Ace's Wild (Hqn) Page 12

  “And what does that mean?” It suddenly occurred to Petunia that working at the saloon, Hester had plenty of opportunities to know Ace intimately. The thought disturbed her more than it should.

  “Don’t get your bloomers in a twist,” Hester said. “I don’t know him biblically. I’m not to his taste.”

  “And what exactly would Mr. Parker’s taste be?”

  Hester looked her over from head to toe. “You’re not his usual type but I’d say—”

  “Is my pa going to be all right?” Terrance interrupted.

  Of all the lousy timing! Petunia bit her tongue and forced a smile. “He’s fine. Mr. Parker’s taking care of him.”

  “Is he going to go to jail?”

  “That wouldn’t be the worst place for him,” Hester said gently. “Might be he could dry out, get a few good meals under his belt, find some common sense even.”

  “They feed them there?”

  Petunia nodded. “They feed them there.”

  “I can visit him?”

  Hester looked at Petunia. Petunia shook her head. It didn’t make sense, but some of the worst people had the best ones caring about them.

  “I’ll take you myself.”

  “How long will he be in jail?”

  She wanted to hug him so badly. Kneeling before him, Petunia settled for brushing his hair off his forehead. “Not long at all, I’m sure. Just long enough for him to rest up and see some sense.”

  Terrance nodded. “He doesn’t think right when he drinks.”

  No child should know that about a parent. Petunia wanted to smack Brian all over again.

  “You were very brave tonight.”

  “I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

  “I appreciate that, and I appreciate you don’t want him hurt, either.” Biting her lip, Petunia struggled with the right thing to say. “Sometimes our parents put us in difficult positions without meaning to.”

  “It didn’t used to always be this way.”

  “I know he must have been a good man at some time.”

  He said, “You do?”

  She smiled as Hester stepped past, going up to comfort her own children. Petunia did hug Terrance then. “He has you for a son. That much good doesn’t come from bad.”

  He suffered the embrace. “Dad said my ma loved him.”

  “I’m sure she did.” At some point.

  “He was real sad when she died.”

  Which might explain Brian’s drinking.

  Taking him by the hand, she led him to the kitchen. “Well, I’m sure if Mr. Parker talks to him, it will have some effect.”

  “Do you really think so?” he asked, taking his seat.

  She poured him a glass of water. Her hands were still shaking, she realized, as the glass rattled when she set it on the wood. It was so hard to remember that Brian was this boy’s father, and no matter what the man did the boy loved him and was going to defend him.

  She took a seat adjacent to Terrance. “Mr. Parker has the look of a man who routinely works miracles.”

  He didn’t touch the water. “Do you think he can fix my pa?”

  “I hope so, but right now we both need some sleep. I’ve got to teach school in the morning, and you’ve got division to master.”

  “Can I take some cookies with me?”

  After everything else that had happened, what could it hurt? “Just two, though. Any more and you won’t be able to sleep.”

  “I can sleep.”

  She smiled and repeated, “Just two.”

  He took his cookies and left the room. Only when she heard that fourth stair creak did she fold her hands and drop her head to her forearms and cry.

  * * *

  AN HOUR LATER there was a knock at the front door. Hester looked up from where she sat across the table.

  “I guess we know who that is.”

  Petunia was afraid she did, too.

  “I assume that it’s time for me to go to bed.”

  A shiver snaked down Petunia’s spine. “There’s no need.”

  Hester shook her head and pushed to her feet. “I’ll be up in my room if you need me.”

  If all she’d done was go to bed, it would have been fine. But along the way to her room, she just had to stop at the front door and open it. Darn it.

  “Evening again, Ace.”

  “Evening, Hester.”

  Petunia wished she could see his face.

  “I want you to know I appreciate what you did for us,” Hester said.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  That sounded entirely too genuine.

  With a wave of her hand, Hester indicated the hall behind her. “Petunia’s in the kitchen.”

  Ace took off his hat. The small part of Petunia that’d hoped he’d leave this until tomorrow died. A man didn’t take off his hat unless he was serious.

  With a look over her shoulder that could have meant anything, Hester said, “I’m off to bed.”

  In the next heartbeat there was nothing between Petunia and Ace except an empty hallway. He looked as fresh as he had that afternoon. While she knew she had dark circles under her eyes, her hair was coming out of its braid and her clothes were rumpled. And her hands were still shaking. It really wasn’t fair. She had the urge to kick him again.

  He collected the gun from where it was propped against the wall of the landing. “Why is the gun on the landing,” he asked, entering the kitchen and leaning the rifle against the wall beside the door, “and not here?”

  “Hester put it there.”

  “That’s not what I told you to do.”

  “I don’t like guns.”

  He eyed her for a moment. It was hard to stand still under that stare.

  “Hester’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s gold through and through, and she can handle the job. You should hire her.”

  “I already have.”

  He set his hat on the counter. “Townsfolk aren’t going to like it.”

  “The townsfolk can go to hell.”

  He cocked his eyebrow at her. “You’ve taken to swearing.”

  “Tonight I feel the need.”

  She expected a smile, not...concern?

  “Invite me in for a cup of coffee.”

  “You’re already in.”

  “Humor me.”

  He didn’t really give her much choice. Not just because he’d ordered it, but because he was already moving down the small hallway toward the front door. Was he coming or going? She followed behind, licking her suddenly dry lips as she noticed the breadth of his shoulders, the thickness of his thighs, the tightness of his butt. She was halfway down the hall before she remembered the gun.

  She didn’t need to say more than “Oh, shoot” for him to know what she was thinking.

  “Leave it. I’m here.”

  A woman could do a lot of things to feel awkward. Show up at the right party in the wrong dress, say the wrong thing at the wrong moment, fall in love with the wrong man, but none of those things could make Petunia feel as silly as that heart-clutching moment when Ace stepped out the door. It closed behind him with a soft click. Sillier still while she waited on this side and him on the other, anticipating a knock that might not come. But when it came, so did her smile. When she opened it, he was standing there, hat in hand, looking for all the world like a suitor.

  “Evening.”

  Maybe it was the stress of the evening. Maybe it was her own sense of the absurd, but her smile softened, felt more natural. Seeped inside. Stepping back, she waved him in. “Good evening.”

  He stepped inside. The foyer suddenly seemed too small. Her mouth too dry.

  “Would you care for coffee?”

 
His lips quirked. “That I would.”

  She closed the door behind him and followed him—again—down the hall. There was something so wrong about that, but at the same time right.

  He set his hat on the spindle of one of the kitchen chairs as if he’d done it a hundred times before. As if he had a right to do it here. As if he was staking a claim. Running his hand through his straight brown hair, he pulled out a chair kitty-corner to the other and sat down. Leaning back in his chair, he put his feet up and stretched his legs out. He looked entirely too comfortable like that. Too...male.

  She grabbed a towel and picked up the cooling coffeepot. “You know,” she pointed out drily, “it wouldn’t hurt you to get it yourself.”

  His smile was pure, confident male.

  “If I were you I wouldn’t push it.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Threats aren’t my way.”

  She put the pot carefully down on a hot burner and took a steadying breath. It wasn’t the first time she’d had a man threaten her, but it was the first time that a threat made her feel like rich, creamy butter in a too-hot crock. There wasn’t anything particularly sexual about the way Ace was sitting back in that chair staring at her the way he did with those eyes that bored right into her, but there was something in his energy that made her knees weak, the area between her thighs ache and her nipples pull tight. His gaze dropped to the front of her nightgown. She quickly folded her arms over the betraying sight but it was too late, and they both knew it. She had to say something.

  “I’ll get the cups.”

  He stopped her with a quiet “Turn around, Pet.”

  She didn’t want to, but again she had no choice. Not only because she owed him, but because it was an order. And Ace had issued it. And for some reason, that made a difference. She turned. Lamplight softened most people’s expressions, but it did nothing to dampen the tension in Ace’s. He was staring at her with that intentness she’d only seen once before when a menagerie had come through town. Behind the bars of a small cage, this magnificent tiger had paced. Back and forth, back and forth. Tail twitching, lethal and menacing, his energy had projected beyond the cage. He’d had that same look that Ace was wearing now. Back then bars had separated them. Her stomach had twisted. There was nothing separating her from Ace.

  “I’m not even sure why you’re angry.”

  “You’re not?”

  She took a cup off the shelf and handed it to him. He took it with that same unnatural calm.

  “No. It’s not my fault the man broke into my house.”

  “No, I can’t blame you for that. It was predictable, though. Hence my telling to keep that gun at hand.”

  “We had a lot going on today. I just forgot.”

  His eyes flashed. “And damn near got yourself killed. If Hester hadn’t arrived when she had, you would have been dead.”

  “I was holding my own.”

  He looked at her with complete disgust. “You were? In whose opinion?”

  “Mine.” She slammed her cup on the table. “And since you weren’t here to assess, you’ll have to go by that.”

  Ace snorted. “You may be tall for a woman, but you’re still a woman, and that means you’re no match for a man in a hand-to-hand fight.”

  “I wasn’t planning on fighting with him hand to hand.”

  “What were you planning on using?”

  The shotgun. Which had been in the kitchen. She sighed and pushed her hair off her face. It wasn’t that she didn’t get his point. She just wasn’t willing to concede that her forgetting the gun gave him any rights.

  The corner of his mouth lifted at the quick acknowledgment of his point. “I’ll take your silence for understanding.”

  “Take it however you want.”

  The water on the stove began to heat. The pot crackled with tension as it expanded. The tension in the room was no less volatile. Petunia took the sugar from the counter and put it on the table. His fingers wrapped around her wrist.

  “Let me go.”

  “Make me.”

  Her free hand doubled up into a fist. She was so mad at Brian, at life, at circumstances, she actually swung. Ace caught her fist as easily as if she had just waved it in front of him. The speed of his reflexes made her blink. A subtle excitement started deep in her gut, springing up to her breasts and down between her legs, and that place that had been dormant for so long heated to a slow ache. Lust, she knew it was lust, completely and inappropriately occurring at a time when she needed her anger. Rational thought didn’t help with the spread; neither did the way his eyes met hers. He wanted her, too.

  She couldn’t let that sway her. “I’m not yours to boss around.”

  He didn’t even hesitate. “You’re whatever I decide you’re going to be.”

  Everything inside her screamed denial, but that stronger pulse of awareness kept her honest because, right now, right here, in this moment it was true. So true that rather than deny it, she just lifted her chin and dared him to prove it.

  His right hand relaxed its grip, and his thumb stroked along her pulse. She knew he felt that instant leap of response. He was too experienced a man not to know the signs of a woman’s interest.

  “You want me.”

  She nodded. “There’d be no point in denying it after that kiss.”

  “There was no point in denying it after the first time we met.”

  “Just because I want you doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.”

  He shook his head. “Little girl, that’s a fool’s belief.”

  “I’m not a girl.”

  He stood. His cock pressed against his denims. Thick and hard. Tempting. Her fingers curled over the need to stroke that hard ridge.

  “This is a real bad time to be reminding me of that.”

  It was a warning she couldn’t seem to heed. She held her ground when he stood, abandoning reason for the anticipation of whatever it was he was going to do next. She didn’t know what it was but whatever it was, she wanted it. From the depths of her soul she wanted it.

  “I know.”

  His response was short and sweet. “Run, Pet.”

  Hers was just as succinct. Placing her hands on his chest, she lifted her too-heavy lids and met his gaze. “No.”

  “Fuck.”

  He took that step in. The one that brought his chest pressing against her breasts, his hips against hers. His foot slid between hers. The inside of his knee bumped hers, spreading her legs wider. Throwing her off balance, he took another step forward. She had to take one back or topple. He took another and another, forcing her back as he raised her hands up. When her hips hit the counter, he brought her hands down behind, pressing her palms to the cool wood as he arched her backward.

  She had a good idea of how she looked, her thin nightgown pulled taut across her breasts, her back and neck arched. Standing there like an offering. She shivered from head to toe.

  In the shadows, his blue eyes appeared darker, his lips fuller; his breath came shorter. His gaze touched her face, her throat, her breasts. Her nipples hardened as if the stroke of his attention were the stroke of his fingers.

  His foot hit the inside of hers.

  “Spread your legs.”

  It was the most scandalous thing that anybody had ever said to her. It was also the most erotic. Of their own volition, her feet separated. He stepped between. His groin pressed intimately against her, and she felt for the first time in her life a man’s hardness where it belonged. It was a shock, a revelation and a promise. One she wanted him to keep. He leaned over, his body pressing on hers. She had a choice. Hold her ground or collapse. The twitch of his lips told her what he expected. She locked her elbows and raised her chin up, matching him challenge for challenge.

  “If you t
hink to intimidate me,” she told him, “you can just quit right now. But if you’re going to kiss me, then make it worth my while.”

  She felt his start from his chest to his toes. Good. Let him dismiss her now.

  “I’m a woman not a girl, Ace. You’re not going to scare me with displays of passion. I might be a virgin, but I’m not innocent to the ways of the world. And quite frankly, it’s been a hell of a night that started with a man bullying me, but I promise you, it’s not going to end with another doing the same.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was a curse or a prayer, it was said so softly.

  “You are hell on a man’s good intentions, Petunia Wayfield.”

  “Who said I wanted your intentions, good or otherwise?”

  His fingertips skimmed from her cheek down her neck to her breasts, blazing a path, finding the peak of her left nipple, pinching it gently.

  “These do.”

  She caught her breath as the sensation streaked southward. Fire caught in lightning, burning away so much of her defenses. She expected him to let go. He didn’t. He pinched harder, watching her eyes, looking for...she didn’t know what. The pressure increased; so did the tension and the pleasure. He pinched harder still. His fingers rubbed lightly and there came that point where she could sense that pain waiting just beyond. Her breath caught, and his lips perked up in a smile.

  But not the smile she expected. He didn’t look victorious. He looked sad, and the next second he took her over that plateau in a quick press that straddled the line from pleasure to pain and just as quickly took her back, leaving her stumbling mentally as his hand cradled her breast. Tenderness, where before he’d been rough, pleasure soothing, where before there’d been pain.

  “That’s why it’s not wise to tease, my Pet.”

  He made it sound like more than a nickname.

  “I’m not one of your pretty little boys from back East who follow the rules, and I’m not your needy gentleman out here looking for a good woman to grace their bed. When I take a woman I take her body and soul, until she’s mine to do with as I will. I take her past any limits either of us think we have.”

  She could see it in her mind. Feel it in her body. Her pussy clenched, and her breath caught.