A Cowboy Christmas. Janette Kenny
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backside was mostly padding or firm, natural rounding.
“Excuse me,” she said to Mallory as she stopped a respectable distance from him.
Mallory answered her with a snore.
The lady tapped a foot impatiently on the floor and Reid bit back a smile, wondering what she’d do now. From what he’d seen so far, she wasn’t the type to tuck tail and run.
She cleared her throat. “Sir, if I may have a moment of your time.” She leaned close to Mallory, her voice louder and more commanding this time.
Like a schoolmarm. Or a general.
It took grit for a woman to walk into this place. A damn sight more gumption to stay. Just the type of woman who appealed to Reid.
Seeing his dream woman in the flesh brought all the old longing rushing back. A good dose of regret, too, though he rarely acknowledged it anymore. But what shocked the hell out of him was the beginning twitch of an honest-to-God arousal.
The past two years lust had been a stranger to Reid. God knew he’d tried to get back in the amorous saddle again as recent as last night, but nothing any woman did worked. Now, just being in the same room with this lady had nudged his cock awake.
About damn time. Now if only he were free—
She turned to Reid then, and indecision flitted over her inquisitive features. “Is he always like this?”
“He has his lucid moments, but they’re rare.”
Her mouth cinched up tighter than a banker’s purse strings, but the gloved finger she slid between her neck and high ruffled collar was more telling than her tongue slipping out to dampen her full lower lip. That long-missed heaviness paid a teasing visit across Reid’s groin again.
Yep, that part of him wasn’t dead after all.
Reid gripped the empty shot glass in his hands, debating about filling it again. Drinking beat wishing to hell that he was holding soft womanly flesh, but he couldn’t leave the old gal waiting at the depot much longer either.
She shook the sot. “Mr. Mallory. Please wake up.”
“Uh, wha—” The old drunk roused from his stupor and stared at the lady, blinking like an owl.
Reid could well imagine what went through the shanty Irishman’s head. Had he died and gone to heaven after all?
“And just how can I help you, miss?” Mallory asked as he straightened to his full five-foot-six height.
“I’m looking for Mr. Reid Barclay,” she said. “The conductor at the depot said I could find him here.”
Reid froze, his hand inches from grabbing the bottle of whiskey. Had he heard her right?
“Now what would a fine lady such as yourself be wanting with the likes of Reid Barclay?” Mallory asked, voicing the same question that swirled in Reid’s head.
She slid Reid a dubious glance, before turning back to Mallory. “That’s personal.”
The whiskey Reid had swilled crashed like angry waves in his gut. He stared at her long and hard, but nothing about her stirred his memory. Why the hell was she looking for him?
“If that don’t beat all.” Mallory thumped a hand on the bar and let out a wheezing laugh.
“Well? Can you tell me where I can find Mr. Barclay?” she asked.
Mallory bobbed his shaggy head and pointed a gnarled finger at Reid. “That’s your fine gentleman right there.”
Reid pressed both palms on the sticky bar, more discomfited than offended by the Irish sot’s mocking tone.
“Oh.” She pressed a gloved hand to her throat and stared at Reid in clear disbelief.
Reid’s mind churned with reasons, beyond the obvious one, why this lady had sought him out. Damn it all, but that one plausible cause wasn’t reassuring in light of his physical reaction to her.
“Cat got your tongue?” Reid asked.
Again, that telling flush stole over her creamy cheeks. “Please forgive me. I was expecting someone more—I mean, someone far older and, and, and—” She waved a hand as if trying to catch words that had escaped her.
“Respectable looking?” he asked.
Her cheeks turned a fiery red this time. “Please don’t take offense, but you don’t look like the gentleman I’d imagined.”
“None taken, ma’am.”
She crossed to Reid, those sharp bootheels tapping out a lively ditty that had his blood pumping for a fare-thee-well. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Barclay.”
Reid inclined his chin a mite, his neck crawling with suspicion. “Barclay or Reid will do.”
“Highly improper, but if that’s what you wish.” Her cheeks darkened a smidgen, and for the first time she looked as uneasy as he felt.
“Why are you looking for me?”
“I’m Eleanor Jo Cade,” she said.
She couldn’t be the woman he’d been expecting from Denver—the one his housekeeper had recommended for the job in her absence. “Mrs. Leach’s friend?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Why? What?” Reid scrubbed a hand over his face, annoyed as hell that she had him stammering for words. He sucked in a deep breath and wished he hadn’t as he drew in her sweet lilac scent.
“Why didn’t you wait for me at the depot?” he asked, acting annoyed she’d come looking for him in this weather when he was really perturbed that she was a young, pretty and damned desirable woman.
Of course, the fact she was here in the saloon told him she was the type who took matters into her own hands. And dammit all for thinking that because his body jolted again at the thought of her taking him in hand. Shit!
“It seemed silly to wait when I could just as easily find you and we could be on our way.”
There was more to it than that. The spark of panic in her eyes hinted she had another reason that she wasn’t ready to divulge.
That alone was enough reason for him to send her on her way here and now and save himself a passel of grief. God knew he’d surely suffer misery in Miss Cade’s company, for his thoughts were anything but gentlemanly around her. But he’d have a hellish time finding a suitable woman to replace Mrs. Leach at this late date and in this ungodly weather.
He blew out a disgusted breath at being caught between a rock and a hard place. “Then by all means let us collect your baggage and be on our way.”
Her sigh was a fitting reaction, but the wide eyes glittering with relief, coupled with those soft lips trembling into a smile, went too far. Yep, this little woman roused feelings in him best left dead.
Reid shrugged into his jacket and motioned to the door. “Stay here while I fetch the sleigh from the livery.”
“I don’t mind walking with you. It’ll save time.” She click-clicked across the wood floor like a spirited filly and out the door into the bitter cold.
Reid tossed five bucks on the bar and started after her. He would have preferred to lose ten minutes and regain his equilibrium, but it was obvious Miss Cade would rather tramp through the snow than spend another second in the Roost.
“You’ve got your hands full with that one,” Mallory said.
“She doesn’t appear to be the troublesome sort to me.”
“Unlike yourself, Mr. Reid Barclay. For all that cultured talk you spout on a whim, I know you’ve got the heart and soul of an Irish rebel.”
“What if I do?” Reid paused at the door and stared at the