Kitabı oku: «Ace's Wild»

CHAPTER ONE

Simple, Texas November 1860

SHE WAS GOING to hell, for sure. Petunia Wayfield stepped off the rough board walkway into the dirt street, barely missing a pile of excrement left by some animal. Dust rose in a puff around her skirts. It’d been a long spell since the last rain. If this drought kept up another month, Christmas was going to be a dusty affair. Shielding her eyes against the late-morning sun, Petunia chided her morals. Here she was, fresh out of a sermon on the seven deadly sins, and she was about to commit two of the worst: the sins of gluttony and—she paused before stepping back up onto the opposite walk—lust. And she blamed it all on Maddie Miller’s cinnamon rolls. Because if Petunia had never smelled the delicious aroma of those baked goods wafting out from beneath the pink-and-white awning that decorated the front of Maddie’s bakery, she never would have stepped through the door the very moment that Ace Parker had stepped out. Would never have smashed her face into his chest; would never have associated the temptation of cinnamon rolls with the scent of hot, masculine man. At least that’s what she told herself. Because it was what any rational, practical woman would tell herself. Even if it was a lie.

With a sigh, Petunia continued on toward the bakery. It wasn’t like she needed that cinnamon roll. At almost thirty, she didn’t need the soft, warm, delicious, yeasty bun filled with fragrant cinnamon and topped with a melted sugar glaze to add to her womanly shape, but she wanted it. She also didn’t need a six-foot-plus tall, broad-shouldered, lean-hipped, no-better-than-he-needed-to-be-maybe-worse-than-some, smart-mouthed gambler like Ace. But, she admitted resignedly as she opened the bakery door and the little bell jingled announcing her presence, Petunia wanted him, too. With the same shameless, mouthwatering, crave-it-no-matter-what lust that had her slipping out on a sermon early to satiate her need for decadence.

On some level Petunia had always felt that she was just one reckless decision from slipping into dissolution. Which was a sad thing for the only daughter of the pillar of Benton, Massachusetts, society to be admitting. Her father liked to blame her wayward tendencies on the flaw in his upbringing after her mother’s early demise. She preferred to call those tendencies progressive thinking. It was a point they’d never agreed upon and which had sent her West on her own without her father’s financial support. And the expected outcome of that venture was yet another bone of contention. He expected her to fail at establishing her business in California while she expected to succeed. She just needed her luck back.

She swore she’d never had such a run of bad luck as she’d had since leaving Benton. First, the stagecoach had broken down in Simple. Which wouldn’t have been so bad except the one-night stay at that supposed boardinghouse on the edge of town had resulted in her being robbed of all her money except the few coins she’d sewn into her petticoat... Only the love life of the local schoolmarm had saved her from ruin, or worse yet, having to send a letter home to her father asking for help. That was an absolute last resort. Petunia Wayfield was not a woman that failed.

The aroma of sweet dough and cinnamon surrounded her in a blissful hug as she pushed the door closed. Petunia closed her eyes and breathed deeply, drawing the comfort in. This was what she needed, the occasional sensual indulgence, not an ongoing challenge like Ace Parker.

Liar, the little voice inside whispered.

She took another breath, fighting the truth. For the first time in her life, she actually wanted, genuinely wanted, a man. But it couldn’t be some nice steady man of business. Oh, no. True to the contrariness of a nature her father bemoaned as misplaced in a woman, she had to lust after a man who was completely wrong for her. A man whose way of life mocked her beliefs. A man for whom, if she did succumb, she’d be nothing more than a toy. Everything inside rejected the notion. She was no man’s toy. She was a modern woman, an independent woman, a woman who intended to have the vote one day. She was not any man’s plaything.

“It does my baker’s heart good to see you step through that door and take in that first breath like you’ve just found heaven.” Maddie Miller interrupted her thoughts with her usual sweet cheerfulness.

Petunia opened her eyes and smiled at Maddie standing behind the counter, a big white apron covering her green dress, flour dusting her freckled cheek and stray curls of red hair escaping her bun. The one thing Petunia prided herself on was not being silly.

“Probably because I just did.” A board squeaked as she stepped up to the low counter. “Your cinnamon buns are my one weakness, I’m afraid.”

Again that whisper of liar.

As if she heard the silent rebuke, Maddie paused, a tray of just risen rolls in her hand.

“I don’t know why people think weaknesses are bad.”

Because only the strong survived. Petunia bit her tongue on the comment.

“If a body is never weak, how would they ever know what they needed?” Maddie asked, swapping the trays and putting the hot, unfrosted rolls on the counter beside a bowl of frosting before closing the oven door.

For that Petunia didn’t have an answer. “That’s a good point.” Darn it.

Maddie just smiled and dropped the cloth she’d been using to carry the hot pan beside it. Resting her hands on her hips she stretched her back and gave Petunia a knowing glance. “Besides, there are some weaknesses that are just plain enjoyable.”

And that fast Petunia felt laid open and vulnerable. “Not in my experience.”

“Maybe you don’t have enough experience.”

There was a time when Petunia had thought Maddie a bit, well, simplistic, but soon she’d seen the real woman. The woman who’d started her own business from nothing but scratch and need, a woman who’d won the heart of the notorious Caden Miller. A woman who’d refused her husband until he respected her independence. Looking at the petite redhead on the other side of the counter, Petunia found it hard to believe someone so soft-looking could be so determined, but it was just another reminder of how one shouldn’t judge by appearances. Maddie could be a very focused woman. And right now she was uncomfortably focused on Petunia.

“Have you seen Ace this afternoon?” Maddie asked with a nonchalance Petunia couldn’t imitate.

“No. Should I have?”

“I heard he had words with Brian Winter at the saloon last night.”

Petunia handed Maddie the bowl of frosting. “Why would that concern me?”

Maddie rolled her eyes and took it. “I have no idea. Outside of the fact you’re unhappy with Brian and the way he treats his son.”

Petunia licked the sweet glaze off her finger. Brian Winter was a brute to the helpless. But Ace Parker was far from helpless. “If Brian was at the saloon, it was to gamble. It only stands to reason any fighting that went on had to do with cards or money or both.”

“Uh-huh.”

She ignored the skepticism. “Mr. Parker is not the civic-minded sort.”

“You like to believe that.”

“Because it’s true.”

Maddie didn’t argue the point. “He can’t be all bad. He’s the region assayer.”

“For reasons of his own, I’m sure.”

Maddie looked up from the frosting she was stirring. “It’s a respectable job.”

“He probably won it in a poker game.”

The wood spoon thumped against the side of the crockery bowl. Maddie switched the subject. “How was the reverend’s sermon this morning? He sounded all riled up, even from over here.”

He had been, for sure. “He was enthusiastic and as motivating as ever.”

“About what today?”

Petunia smiled slightly. “The sin of turning the other cheek.”

“That’s a sin?” Maddie asked, pouring glaze over the fresh batch of rolls. Petunia was a bit ahead of the church crowd, but soon the shop would be packed with a line out the door.

“He had a new take on it.”

“Oh?”

Petunia felt certain the sermon was aimed at her endeavors to help the children and less fortunate of Simple and the lack of interest of the townsfolk. “It’s his opinion that people around here have gotten too used to turning a blind eye, even when they should be paying attention.”

Maddie smiled and set the glaze aside. “A theory near and dear to your heart.”

Petunia nodded. “You should have attended. He was quite animated.”

Maddie’s expression closed right up as she started moving the rolls to the display plates. As curious as Maddie always was about the reverend’s sermons, as far as Petunia could tell, the woman had never set foot inside the church.

“You should come on in one Sunday.”

Maddie became overly busy getting a roll just so on the display plate. After a few seconds she looked up, a not so engaging smile on her face.

“Well, if I did that, who would cook the cinnamon rolls for the congregation when the sermonizing is over?”

She was clearly flustered at the idea of going to church. For the life of her, Petunia didn’t know why. There was no one more kind and considerate than Maddie. It was a mystery, and mysteries were Petunia’s downfall. She poked a little more.

“I’m sure the reverend would love to see you at service more than he’d rather see a cinnamon roll.”

Maddie shook her head. “I don’t know about that. The man is particularly fond of his pastries. Missing one might just throw him off his sermon.”

Maddie’s resistance just increased Petunia’s curiosity. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”

The pink gingham curtain behind the counter hissed slightly as it slid open. Caden Miller, Maddie’s husband, stepped from behind the cloth barrier and slipped his arm protectively around his wife’s waist. There was all the love any woman could want in that embrace, but there was steel in his blue eyes as he looked at Petunia, reminding her he was one of the legendary Hell’s Eight. Men known for their bravery and loyalty. Caden, in particular, for his unpredictable nature. The tiny shop suddenly seemed that much smaller.

“There’s no purer angel walking this earth than my Maddie, with or without church.” Dropping a kiss on the top of Maddie’s head, he challenged Petunia to continue her prodding.

Petunia was not a fool. “Good morning, Caden.”

A nod of his head acknowledged her greeting. “If you don’t believe me,” he continued, taking the cinnamon bun out of Maddie’s hand, “all you’ve got to do is taste her baked goods.” The little paper napkin beneath wrinkled as he set it on the counter and pushed it toward Petunia.

A lock of hair fell across his forehead. Maddie turned and brushed it back, her fingers lingering on his cheek. Caden’s expression softened as he turned his head and kissed her palm. Petunia felt a pang of envy and more than a little superfluous. “They are the height of my Sundays.”

Maddie turned to her and smiled in her easy, open way. “Between you and Caden my head is going to swell so much, I’ll have a hard time getting through the door.”

“No problem, Maddie mine.” Caden stole a pastry for himself. “I know where you store the hat pins. If things need popping I’ll be right on it.”

Maddie shook her head and laughed. “Thanks.”

“It’s my husbandly duty to make sure you stay—” his gaze lowered to Maddie’s ample curves “—all in proportion.”

“Caden!”

All Maddie’s protest inspired was a chuckle from her husband and an offer to share his roll. Petunia’s blush faded as Maddie laughed again and took a bite. It was good to see a man who knew how to be a man and cared about his wife. And there was one thing everyone knew about Caden. Caden loved Maddie with everything in him, which surprisingly seemed to be a whole heck of a lot. Surprising because if you asked half the town’s populace, they’d tell you stories, all of them designed to convince you that Caden Miller didn’t have a heart. But he did, and she was plump and sweet with red hair and green eyes and a talent for baking.

The scent of the cinnamon roll on the counter beckoned. There had been a time when Petunia would have said it was better than any man’s arms, but watching Maddie relax into Caden’s embrace, seeing how natural they were together, Petunia was beginning to have those doubts that said maybe the course she’d set for herself and the beliefs she held to so strongly were not all that a woman needed.

Petunia passed her money across the counter, took the roll and ignored that pang of envy that she didn’t have time for. “Thank you.”

She had an important meeting in two days, and she couldn’t afford any distractions. There were things in this town that people didn’t want to see that she insisted they would. Too many children in her school were neglected, hungry or abused while others were just left out of an education entirely simply because their mothers were forced to work above stairs in the saloon. It was unacceptable. It had to change. Every child deserved to be safe and educated and before she left this town she was determined some changes would be made, no matter how unpopular her determination made her with most, including Caden. The man was a bit overprotective. Maddie’s quiet support of her cause did not put her in danger. With a smile she made her excuses. “I’m going to scoot before the reverend gets here and lectures me about slipping out on church early.”

Caden grinned. “Are you worried about eternal damnation?”

She reached for the door, her mouth watering, impatience nibbling at her the way she wanted to nibble on the roll. “Not this week.”

Maddie chuckled. “You have a nice day, Petunia.”

Petunia glanced back, the door half-open, the little bell’s jangle just a ting of sound. Caden stood behind Maddie, his arm still around her waist. He looked like hell waiting for a place to land, all squared shoulders and contained aggression. Maddie, on the other hand, looked...at peace. The hand resting on Caden’s was relaxed. Her fingers stroked across his darker skin. Such a small gesture, but it had such a profound effect. Caden visibly relaxed. Petunia smiled. Maddie was a woman who knew her power and wielded it wisely. Yet she wouldn’t step inside a church she clearly longed to visit. It made no sense. If Petunia had more time she’d definitely be exploring that wrinkle. But time she didn’t have. As soon as she saved enough for her ticket, she’d be on her way to starting her own dream.

“Thank you, Maddie. You both have one, too.”

The “Will do” came from Caden.

Outside, she stopped and took that long-awaited, much-anticipated first bite. The pastry melted in her mouth. She closed her eyes and just appreciated the moment, letting the pleasure roll through her.

“You know, if you wore that exact same expression on your face at the next dance, you might spend more time on the floor dancing than on the side talking.”

Petunia didn’t have to open her eyes to know who was goading her. Ace Parker. The thorn in her side, her personal Achilles’ heel, Caden and Maddie’s best friend. She’d never understand how two productive people could appreciate a man of such low character. Opening her eyes, she found herself looking straight into the shadowed intensity of his. A frisson of awareness shot through her, hooking deep and drawing invisible wires tight. Damn the man. He even had beautiful eyes. She wanted to knock the black cowboy hat off his head so she could see the sky-blue irises flecked with those mesmerizing shards of icy gray. Eyes that saw too much. Eyes that made her want to... To push. Shove. Fight. His mouth quirked at the corner. She couldn’t look away.

They made her want to surrender. Damn him.

It was easy to see how Ace won so many poker games. There was an uncanny calm about the man. A subdued power that drew a person to trust where they probably shouldn’t. But she wasn’t a wrangler halfway through a bottle of cheap whiskey. She was a strong woman of intellect. Taking a slow breath, she gave him a small smile of her own, keeping it casual as if her breasts weren’t tingling and her lungs weren’t struggling to remember how to get her next breath.

“Of course a man of your predilections wouldn’t understand that it might be my preference to not carry on on the dance floor.”

“I understand, as a woman, you might be well on the shelf, but you’re not dead. You’ve got time to turn things around.”

He wasn’t the first to imply she needed to find a man, marry and devote herself to raising children. Petunia swallowed the bit of cinnamon roll and forced that smile to stay in place. It was hard. Very hard when she wanted nothing more than to touch his cheek, feel that slight stubble against her fingertips. He probably hadn’t even been to bed yet. “I’ll keep that in mind between my other endeavors.”

Ace leaned against the doorjamb, that quirk becoming a grin, but whereas hers felt tight, his looked easy. The aggravating man seemed to find humor in everything, especially in the matters close to her heart.

“Would that be the endeavor that involves taking children from the whorehouse, putting them in your house and trying to make them respectable?”

She tucked her roll into the napkin and straightened. There’d be no enjoying it while he was picking at her. “That would be the one.”

“And you think the citizens of this town are going to go along with that? Having those children of lust in their school with their properly raised and primly conceived children?”

It was probably a flaw in her defense that she did enjoy his way with words. “I don’t plan on giving them much choice.”

He sighed. “You just can’t shove reform down people’s throats.”

“When the alternative is leaving innocents neglected, uneducated and unloved, to grow up to be a bane on our society far into the future, I can force whatever I want.”

His left eyebrow crooked up. “You think you’ve got that much muscle?”

“I think with Christmas coming up, and the spirit of charity that goes with it, I have a good chance of making a start.”

“And you’re just going to take that inch?”

She nodded. “And stretch it into a mile.”

His right eyebrow joined the left. “And you don’t expect resentment?”

“Oh, I expect resentment.” She was already experiencing some. Her roll was getting cold.

“But you plan on getting past it?”

She nodded again. “I plan on getting past it.”

Ace shook his head and straightened, opening the door for Caden, who was bringing chairs out to the porch. “You know, no matter how many good deeds you do, they are never going to elect you mayor.”

She gritted her teeth. “The town already has a mayor.”

“Which you don’t think much of.”

He had to be observant to know that.

The mayor was a lazy man, and lazy men tended to stay the heck out of her way. So she was content with him in that office. “I’m hoping he’ll be supportive.”

If only by his disinterest.

Maddie spoke up from where she was wiping down the counter. “It is a good cause.”

Ace looked over at her. “It may be, but going about it this way is just going to make enemies.”

“Why?” Petunia stepped back as Caden set the chair in front of the door to hold it open. “Why should helping children make any enemies?”

Caden looked up from where he was bracing the chair. “Because those children have fathers who prefer that they stay hidden.”

“If those children have fathers,” she snapped, “then those fathers should be taking care of them.”

Ace shrugged. “They are, in their way.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Caden offered, folding his arms across his chest.

“Not by much.”

Petunia could see the first of the congregation leaving the church. If she didn’t get moving, she’d be forced to be civil to people who’d be taking veiled stabs at her. Her plan really wasn’t popular. “No living thing should suffer needlessly because others are too lazy or too worried about how it looks to help them. Society is only as strong as its weakest link.”

Ace swore. She flinched, even as every nerve ending snapped to attention. His eyes narrowed, and as if on cue her breath caught. Darn it! Why this with this man? It was so...inconvenient.

Caden looked between the two of them and just sighed. “You know if you two spent a little less time fighting and a little bit more talking, you’d probably find out you’re on the same side of most of your discussions.”

She lifted her chin. “I highly doubt I have anything in common with Mr. Parker.”

From the tug Ace gave his hat, he wasn’t any too pleased with the observation, either. “Yeah. You’d have to shove a broomstick up my ass to get me to be that uptight.”

“Ace!” Maddie reprimanded from within the store.

Petunia just raised her brow. Did he think his crudeness would shock her? “We could probably arrange that.”

“You and what posse?”

“I imagine we could assemble a few of your disgruntled companions to make it happen.”

Ace made a sound. She couldn’t tell if he was choking on outrage or laughter. Before she could ask, Caden interrupted.

“Never seen two cats fight as much as you two do. At least not without a hell of a good reason.”

Ace was entirely too quick to say, “I’ve got a reason.”

And she was entirely too curious to know what it was. Before she could open her mouth to retort, Maddie came around the counter. “Please. We like you both.”

Caden didn’t move, but the air suddenly seemed thicker. “What my wife is trying to say, Ace, is that no one cares about your reason. As my wife’s friend, Petunia is always a welcome guest in my home.” His voice lowered just a fraction. “And always under my protection.”

Ace pulled up straight. Shoulders squared as subtle tension entered his stance. His “The hell you say” was low and threatening.

Maddie stopped dead. The catch in Petunia’s breathing became permanent. Caden wasn’t even ruffled. “You heard me.”

If Caden had spoken to her in that tone, Petunia would be running. Ace didn’t even bat an eye. Caden waved his hand. Maddie went back behind the counter.

“This is none of your business, Caden.”

“So take me to court.”

“That’s not fair, Caden,” Maddie called. “You know Judge Bracen is holding a grudge against Ace.”

“Another one of your satisfied customers?” Petunia asked with a lift of her brows.

Ace shrugged. “He’s not pleased I didn’t declare that fool’s gold of his genuine.”

“Cost him a pretty penny on that land deal.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Petunia interrupted, wanting this to end before it got more combative. She might not want to like Ace, but she did like Caden and Maddie, and Maddie was sympathetic to her cause. Caden she wasn’t so sure of. Out of the corner of her eye she could see the set of Ace’s shoulders. Along her nerve endings she felt the weight of his stare, and that breathless trembling started anew. It was definitely time to go.

“Thank you for the cinnamon roll, Maddie.” She forced herself to take a nibble. The soft pastry sat like lead in her mouth. Tension skimmed along her nerves. “It’s delicious as always.” She nodded to Caden. Ace she ignored.

He naturally couldn’t let that pass. “Not even going to say goodbye?” he asked as she turned.

Nope. Not a goodbye. Not a glance. Not anything that would feed her weakness. Lifting her skirts with her free hand, she stepped off the walk, ignoring the inner prompting that wanted to know if he watched her, if he was smiling, if there was approval in his eyes. She forced herself to continue toward home and not give him the satisfaction of looking back. It was the hardest thing she’d done in a long, long time.

* * *

ACE WATCHED PETUNIA stroll down the street in that purposeful way of hers and shook his head. Seems he’d been watching Petunia since the day she’d stepped off the stage all pale blond elegance and temptation. She wasn’t the sort of woman a man like him would approach. Buttoned-up women were notoriously boring in and out of bed, but there was a reckless side to Petunia that no amount of blue serge could conceal. One that, once fed by the fire of conviction, could take her where angels feared to tread. Like right up into Simon Laramie’s face when he’d protested her effort to feed his hungry kids. Laramie outweighed her by a hundred pounds, but she’d stood there like size didn’t matter and taken him to town. A man had to admire that much gumption. Protect it. Preserve it... Nurture it. Shit. He wanted to punch a wall. He wanted to follow her, pick her up, toss her over his shoulder, swat her on that delicately rounded ass and carry her off to his bed with her gasp still ringing in his ear. He wanted her in his arms. His bed. His home. With a silent curse, Ace cut that line of thinking short. Again.

That was the dangerous side of Petunia Wayfield. She made him want things he’d long ago given up hoping for. A wife. Family. Men like him didn’t have those things. But it didn’t mean they couldn’t protect the one who fed that faintest of hopes. About a month ago, he’d accepted Petunia was that one for him. There was something within her that drew him. Fascinated him. Enthralled him to the point that lately, all he could think about was her lying bound in his bed, that sweet pale flesh wearing his mark, her femininity sweetly displayed. His blood heated even as he ground his teeth. The woman was like a bad case of poison ivy, a constant irritation.

“Why do you tease her so?” Maddie asked when Petunia was out of earshot.

For no reason fit for Sunday discussion. “The woman has too much starch in her bloomers.”

“So you irritate her just to get a reaction,” Maddie stated, coming up beside him and shaking out her cleaning cloth.