Oh, his winks. He was going to break through her wall again with his eyes flirting with her so sweetly.
He remounted his horse and grabbed the reins of the mare she’d ridden. He touched the brim of his hat before riding off down the street, disappearing in moments.
Mrs. Norton tapped Rosie’s shoulder, crossing her arms and lifting her eyebrows. “Young lady, if you don’t go out with that Rourke boy again, I will.” She fanned her face and went inside her slider door.
Bemused, Rosie stared off down the street again where he’d gone.
Maybe he hadn’t known about Devlyn being her father. Could have just been a coincidence. If that were the case, she wanted to run screaming into the woods. How embarrassing. She’d acted like a complete jerk. Yet, how did she explain the sharp blow to her fragile emotions? Hearing what an awful man her father was on a date with a man she really liked... the possibility that he wouldn’t or couldn’t like her because of her family loomed like the premonition of death.
She still hadn’t brought herself to look at the pictures of long-lost siblings.
The struggle was real though between looking and not. On one hand, how did she reconcile the fact that she had brothers and sisters with a man she didn’t even want to acknowledge as her father? Could she accept one without the other? Did she have to take them as a group or could she reject select people?
Michael had shared more information about the Caracus gang than she’d been able to glean from any one particular source since leaving Mare Ranch.
Her father had been a true bastard.
EDWARDS, THE NEW MANAGER for the department store Phillip had bragged about owning, cleared his throat beside Rosie. She looked up from a ledger she carried to determine the best practices for her time. On a break at the diner, she really didn’t feel like being interrupted. “Yes?”
“Hello, Ms. Scott. I’d like to extend the offer of a contract for the department store owned by Mr. Nelson.” He held out his hand, a slick smile tight on his face.
Slow to take his hand, Rosie returned his smile, equally tight. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer, sir. I can come by for a consult later this evening. I get off the dinner shift after seven. I believe the store hours are until nine, correct?” Rumor had it Phillip Nelson ran his managers into the ground, taking advantage of every second he could of their salaried positions. From what she knew of the man, it didn’t surprise her.
“Yes. We don’t need a consultation. We would be happy to sign. Just let us know how much and we’ll have the papers drawn up.” He withdrew his hand and lifted his chin, small lips pinched together with the corners tilted up.
Rosie had only ever heard of Botox, but if she’d imagined what it looked like, she could believe that Edwards would be a definite recipient. “Well, I need to do one because if you have materials or textiles that won’t react well to my cleaning agents, then we’ll be wasting both of our times and I refuse to do that. I will also need to know exactly what hours you’ll be expecting as well as how much of the cleaning is covered by me.”
If she continued expanding the way she was, she would have to hire someone to help her. Another contract within the week and not a small job either. She needed to schedule out her time, if she wanted to be able to perform appropriately for a company.
Company. Pride pushed her chest up and her shoulders back. She was growing her own company. Her – nobody else. Finally, she had something that was all hers. “I’ll stop by after my shift before y’all close, okay?”
He nodded his head and vanished out the front door of the diner.
She only had an hour and then she’d be off. If things continued to pick up with her cleaning business, she’d be able to quit the diner. The possibility made her giddier than she’d been in a long time.
Not for the first and definitely not the last time did Rosie’s mind wander toward her time with Michael earlier that day. She needed to fix things with him, make sure he knew her sadness didn’t have to do with him without letting him know where it did stem from. Although, at some point, he’d have to find out – because what she wanted with him needed complete honesty.
The hour passed slowly but it didn’t dampen Rosie’s mood. She untied the required apron from around her waist and slung it over her bag.
Almost skipping out the door, she released her hair from its bun and shook the long blonde strands over her shoulder. She’d love to see Michael that night, but wasn’t naïve enough to think she’d be welcome by the other ranch hands to just drop by the bunk house at Lacey Caverns.
Plus, if she really wanted to investigate why she didn’t go out, her guilt made her admit that maybe Michael wouldn’t want to see her so soon after her moodiness that day.
Yet, he did promise to check on her.
Okay, she’d make a deal with herself. If she didn’t see him sooner, she wouldn’t wait for later. She’d find a way to see him – or call him. Anything.
A large chunk of her excitement to even get out of bed was the chance that she might see him that day. Just catch a glimpse of him.
And since she’d kissed him and spent more time with him, the rush at seeing him needed to be stronger. Touching him and talking to him became more of her drive.
The evening stretched out before her. She’d probably spend the majority of it dreaming about Michael and kissing him again, but longer.
If nothing else, the visit with Edwards should be interesting. If she saw Phillip, she would be tempted to run.
The evening wound down.
Other residents drove home, their headlights over-bright in the dusk shadows.
Rosie stifled a yawn as she yanked open a door at the store. One would think with how much money Phillip flung around town on his ego, he’d at least have automatic doors.
A blast of cool air-conditioning puffed the soft strands of hair to the sides of her face. Muted elevator music played overhead and mannequins stared at each other in their varying degrees of trendy clothing and accessories.
Easy to spot, Edwards pointed at something while speaking with a saleswoman. Glancing toward the front, he spied Rosie and waved her to the back.
Picking her way through the crowded aisles, Rosie noted the sporadic placement of clothing racks. Ducking her head as she passed a rack filled with maxi skirts, she noted the anchor setup of the pole.
Groaning at the loss of the potentially profitable client, Rosie shook her head as she reached Edwards. Extending her hand, she gripped his firmly. “Edwards, it looks like you drew up the contracts in vain. I can’t do any cleaning with set fixtures like you have here.” She pointed out the poles and the haphazard aisles that zigzagged around the store.
Alarm forced his lips into an O. “No. You have to take us on as a client. We can move them.”
Firm, Rosie didn’t hesitate. “I’m not being clear. The setup in here isn’t conducive to the type of cleaning I do. You would have to pull all the poles out after removing all the merchandise, stack everything somewhere I wouldn’t be cleaning – maybe outside? – and then you’d have to put it all back before opening the next day. You wouldn’t have enough time for all of that because my cleaning solution requires two to three hours drying time.” Frowning, she softened her tone. “I really am sorry, but thank you for the offer. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
Turning from the manager whose face had frozen in a cross between shock and an unpleasant smile, Rosie rubbed the back of her neck. She’d been working too long at the diner, her posture and muscles were taking a beating. Head bent, she pushed through the store doors.
Hiking her bag higher on her shoulder, she glanced up to cross the street only to make eye contact with Phillip as he waited by the wrought iron light pole outside the store. She paused, dropping her foot mid-step.
Crossing her arms, she surveyed the street for witnesses instead of cars. The intensity in Phillip’s gaze raised the fine hairs on the backs of her arms. She swallowed, careful not to appear afraid. “Phill
ip. Just getting off work?”
Pushing away from his position at the pole, Phillip lifted his hard-angled chin, lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach his cheeks. “I don’t have set hours. So do you work for me, now?”
A tsunami of relief crashed over her. She would’ve been working for him and that would never do. She relaxed her shoulders. “No, actually I don’t. Or the department store, but thank you for thinking of me.”
“Ah, I wonder if you’re working for Madam again, then. I saw her today, buying some liquor at the General Store.” His chuckle contained no mirth.
She ignored the implications of Madam being in Colby. How many times in the past had Phillip made similar statements? Too many to count. But the thought of it curdled her insides. She couldn’t deal with two threats from her past in the same moment.
First thing, escape Phillip.
She’d put the rest together when she got home.
Rosie moved to walk past him, but he caught her upper arm in an unforgiving grasp.
Whirling toward him, her lips parted on a gasp.
Phillip’s mouth crushed hers, grinding the soft skin into her teeth. His short fingernails cut into the flesh on the backs of her arms.
Rosie screeched, clenching her eyes shut and shoving as hard as she could against his chest. Breathing hard, she opened her eyes and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “What are you doing? No. Absolutely not.” Forcing to push past the embarrassment, she didn’t tuck her chin or hide. Even if people recognized her from the Mare Ranch, she wouldn’t let anyone – let alone a no-good man – treat her that way.
She wasn’t for sale.
He stepped toward her, lifting his hand toward her arm and glancing around. “Come on, Rosie, we’ll try again. No need to make a scene. Come here.” He took a second step and his fingers grazed her shoulder, sending a jolt of alarm zinging down her nerve endings.
Before he could grab her again, she dropped one foot back and swung her hips as she slapped him full force across the face. His head whipped to the side.
He covered his cheek with his palm, slowly turning back to face her.
One hand holding tight to her bag and the other pointing a finger at him, Rosie spoke in a loud voice. “I said no. Leave me alone.”
Eyes dark in the shade of his hat’s brim, he smiled, lifting his hands up in surrender. He chuckled. “Okay, baby. We’ll talk about it later.” But his humor disappeared as people continued walking past them. His mutter reached her, carried on the wind of his anger. “You’re going to regret that, stupid wench. I saw you with that ranch hand today. You’re not with me? You’ll die with him.”
Rosie didn’t relax her stance until he disappeared inside the store.
Not only had she brought everyone’s eyes to her, but she hadn’t thought about the consequences of attacking a man in public.
The last time she’d seen a woman hit a man had been at Madam’s. She’d slapped him for trying to get fresh with her when he’d paid for another girl. He’d come back a few weeks later with law enforcement claiming she sold drugs at the Ranch. Madam had to watch her back for a long time after that.
No one had come to her aid. Just like they had all ignored Rosie there on the sidewalk as Phillip had attacked her.
Phillip had a darker, more sinister side than that crazy man had. Something told Rosie she hadn’t only escaped unwanted romantic attention but might have run right into even more unwanted retribution attention.
What the heck had she brought Michael into?
Rosie
Chapter 12
THE SALT AND PEPPER shakers hadn’t been cleaned in almost a week.
Rosie rubbed and rubbed at the greasy glass in disgust. Coming in early often had its perks. Usually she could sit in the back and read while waiting for customers to show up. But arriving before her shift that day had been asking for punishment.
As soon as she’d walked through the door Tom had pointed at the shakers and asked her to clean them before the rush. That was an hour ago. There didn’t seem to be an end in sight and no rush of customers to bring her relief.
“What did those poor things ever do to you?” Michael’s low rough voice banished her irritation at the menial chore.
She glanced up, meeting his dark eyes with wonder. He’d sought her out. Or had he? “Nothing, except have the audacity to get dirty. Can I get you a table?”
He slid into the booth across from where Tom had stationed her. “I think this will work. If that’s okay with you?” His eyebrow lifted as if in challenge... or maybe invitation?
“Of course.” Heat rose to her cheeks. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to apologize for how things ended yesterday. I’m going through some tough things that I didn’t mean to drop you with. You’re...” She cleared her throat and wiped at a new pepper shaker. “Um, don’t you work somewhere?”
Dropping the glass bottle, she covered her mouth with her hand. Eyes wide, she shook her head. “I’m so sorry. Again. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I just...” Well, he’d leave for sure. What was she thinking? Come on, Rosie, get it together.
And how could she just sit there calmly with him while Phillip loitered somewhere, with the task of killing them on his mind?
Chuckling, Michael leaned back in the vinyl-covered seat. “I didn’t take it bad. Yes, I do work out at Lacey Caverns. I’m just finishing up my two day break. I have an appointment with Mr. James this evening. You wouldn’t happen to have any time off coming up, would you?”
How could he be so calm while Rosie sat across from him wanting to shriek with joy? No, so she wasn’t interested in getting him killed, but how could she not delight in the fact that he wanted to see more of her? Especially when she couldn’t think of anything else but him?
The tingles and excitement riddling her when she was around the confident and steady Michael increased her emotional connection a thousand-fold.
She set the shaker to the side slowly as if contemplating his question.
His firm lips spread wider, displaying even, white teeth. “Are you playing coy with me?”
“Not a lot, but maybe a little. Okay, my turn to tease. I have to work until seven most nights. But where would you take me? Here? I work here.” She turned her head enough to peek at him from the corner of her eye. “You’re funny.”
“Not here. We could drive the few hours to Missoula or go north to Kalispell. I’m not picky. I can cook fairly well, too. There’s also a barn raising and dance at the Cavendish’s this weekend. I’d be interested in going with you, if you’d like. But I’ll let you pick.” His easy manner of speaking and watching her had a comforting beat to it. Like he didn’t need to rush from place to place. He could just be.
She liked that. So much.
Tom ducked his head out of the kitchen, bellowing loud enough to overshadow the television and to make the silverware, rolled and piled on the counter, to shift. “Rosie, Mary’s here. Thanks for coming in early, but why don’t you go on ‘til your shift starts? There’s not enough work for two of you.” He marked his words with a jab of the spatula into the air above his head. Mary had a family to feed and with seniority, she usually pulled the extra hours.
Closing her eyes and ducking her head, Rosie mumbled. “I’m sorry. I guess I need to get out of here. I have to work in about an hour, but if you don’t have anywhere else to be, we could go for a walk or something? Unless...” He wasn’t asking to go for a walk. He wanted to have dinner.
“I’ll take whatever time with you I can get.” His honest enthusiasm tore at her, forcing her to look up. A genuine smile creased his cheek, enhanced more by the dark stubble on his skin.
What would the untrimmed shadows on his face feel like against her fingertips? She curled her fingers into a fist at the thought.
“Hey, Rosie. I’ll take over. Apparently, the busboys don’t do this job anymore.” Mary rolled her eyes. The thick blue of her eyelids contrasted starkly with her bright pink lips.
Rosie pushed herself from the booth. Standing, she untied her apron and reached for her bag, hoping he’d join her. She’d have to be back on soon, but spending any kind of time with him would help settle her feelings from a mad-zing-through-me-like-lightning-crush similar to a young teenager’s to something more mature, more solid with a future.
He followed her from the restaurant, only pulling abreast of her when they reached the sidewalk.
Further south because of the season, the afternoon’s sun and its warmth didn’t hold a burning sting like in the summer. Rosie lifted her face and soaked in the bright heat. She turned to Michael. “Want to go to the park?”
“Sure.” He held out his arm, and like a woman in the olden days, Rosie hooked her fingers onto the dark blue and black flannel. His muscles flexed beneath her hand and she had the insane urge to run her fingers up his arm and into his hair.
Get a grip, Rosie.
Nudging her with his arm, he looked down at her, his eyes bright. “So, I hear you slap men who try to kiss you in public?”
Gasping indignantly, Rosie didn’t know what to say or how to react. She huffed for a second, an embarrassed smile holding her expressions hostage. “Uh, I’m not sure how to...” She glanced around, suddenly remembering that Phillip was watching her, watching them, waiting... he might not really kill them, but his intentions weren’t pure regarding Rosie.
And now, Michael.
“I’m kidding. I heard about it from a few ranch hands. Word travels fast here. Remember?” He tilted his hat at her and nudged her again.
Right. She nodded weakly. The smallness of the town and the reminder that rumors spread faster than butter on hotcakes flattened her excitement over being alone with Michael. She chewed on her lower lip.
Ranch hands often visited bordellos and, while Rosie didn’t know the help at Lacey Caverns, she didn’t foolishly hope that they’d never been to one. Most likely they had, but what she would allow to hope for was that they’d been too young when she was there. They wouldn’t be able to remember much or even to go – alone or otherwise.
Romancing Redemption Page 8