Never Tempt a Lawman. Lauri Robinson

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СКАЧАТЬ it. Rain came down in a solid sheet.

      “Walter VanCamp already rode out to the Bakers’, to tell Dr. Billings he was needed at the Arnold place,” Bess said. “Perhaps Walter should give up peddling his wears and become a lawman.”

      Kirk didn’t need to turn around to know there was a snide grin on Bess’s face. He could imagine it, having seen it numerous times. Nor did he tell her he’d known where Doc Billings was, and could have told Wesley, but he’d been at the saloon, shooing men home so their wives and children would have money for food this week. He shut the door at the bolt of lightning hitting so close the hair on his arms stood. Giving Bess a solid stare, he said, “It appears my interrupting you and your beau has put you in a better mood than normal.” She and that scrawny Clancy kid had probably been planning their wedding, which should make him happy.

      Bess huffed and spun around.

      Not about to let her off that easy, not when another thought struck, Kirk marched across the room and caught her arm. “What were you doing having a man over here when Helen isn’t home?”

      She wrenched her arm from his hold. “I can have Eli over whenever I want.” Stomping toward the stove, she spouted, “Good heavens, Helen and I live with men. You and Mr. VanCamp. The town has accepted that.”

      That wasn’t saying much. The town had accepted him, too. Three years ago, when he’d ridden into Beaver Creek, smack dab in the middle of a gun fight. He’d wounded the man who’d shot the sheriff and apprehended the other two before they got out of town. The next day the city council hired him as their new sheriff.

      He hadn’t been too keen on the idea, but without any real place to be, he’d taken the job, for the time being, and had moved into Martha Trundale’s boarding house. He was still here, and had no plans to change it anytime soon. He’d come to like being a lawman. The solitude of it. Course, Martha Trundale had kept him from getting lonely, even before her nieces moved from Alabama to reside with her. A colorful woman, she, along with her friend Adeline, had entertained him with tales about their younger days back east.

      “You certainly don’t need to concern yourself with my reputation, Sheriff,” Bess said, dumping the coffee pot. “I can take care of myself.”

      It wasn’t necessarily her reputation that concerned him. The idea of Bess being home alone ate at a spot inside him that hadn’t been alive for a long time. Up until a few weeks ago, she wouldn’t have been left alone. Adeline Grabowski would have been here, but last month, Adeline claimed age was catching up with her and moved to Kansas City, where another old friend lived.

      The town council had held a meeting about him remaining at the boarding house after Adeline left—living with two young women was a bit scandalous. He’d assured them it was no different than him living with Martha and Adeline and had pointed out his job included room and board. Besides this being the only boarding house in town, the money the sisters got from the city for his rent was their main source of income. He hadn’t wanted that taken away from them. Martha had told him about all the girls had lost before they’d arrived. Their family. Their home. The war had left a lot of carnage.

      He’d also pointed out to the council that he wasn’t the only man residing at the boarding house. Walter VanCamp spent several nights a month here. Walter was a good man, and didn’t worry Kirk. It was the other travelers who spent a night now and again that troubled him. Beaver Creek didn’t have a hotel. The only bed to rent was at the boarding house.

      The council had deliberated on him remaining here, but not for long. The entire town had high hopes the rumors about the railroad coming through were true. If so, they’d need a place for the surveyors to stay and left things as they stood. Him living with Helen and Bess.

      At this very moment, Kirk questioned that arrangement more than ever.

      Helen might be the one a man would want for a wife, but Bess was the type of woman a man would enjoy. Just keeping her in line would be exhausting. What a fine exhaustion that would be. Keeping her awake all night, sampling that perfect little body, so she’d sleep half the day is what it would take to keep Bess under control.

      The desire that festered uncontrollably in his loins zinged to attention, or maybe it was the crash of thunder that made the entire house tremble that knocked his thoughts in order. Either way, he crossed the room to tower over her. “Someone needs to worry about your reputation. You evidently don’t.”

      The indignation in her pale blue eyes made him want to smile, but the way she gasped, as if air snagged in the back of her throat, had his fermenting desires hitting his blood stream at full force. She had incredible lips. Kissable lips.

      She shoved at his chest and skirted around him. “I can take care of myself. I could have years ago and I can now.”

      A man whose past was woven with pain and regret recognizes it in someone else. Bess had that. Regret. Sorrow. He wanted to know why, and he wanted to tell her it would ease. Eventually. It took time, but sooner or later, one finds a way to combat regrets. He had. Becoming a lawman had shown him the right kind of justice.

      “I’m going to bed now, Sheriff. Considering you’re so worried about my reputation, you can lock up.” Never to be outdone, she eyed him daringly. “Or perhaps it’s your reputation you’re worried about.”

      The urge to kiss her sprang forth bolder and more primitive than ever. She was so righteous and full of herself. He shouldn’t appreciate that, for it made her as dangerous as dynamite, but he did. He liked her smart mouth and her snippety attitude. In truth, there wasn’t much about her he didn’t like. Stepping forward, he touched the end of her nose, knowing how much she hated it. “I don’t give a hoot about my reputation, but you should.”

      She frowned and he was almost to the dining room when she asked, “Why should I care about your reputation?”

      He grinned, and turned enough for her to see it. “Because this rain means Helen will be at the Arnold’s all night and Mr. VanCamp will stay at the Bakers’. Leaving us, you and me, alone here.”

      Speechless due to the swarm of butterflies that suddenly took flight in her stomach, Bess didn’t move. She hadn’t felt this way for years, not since anticipating a boy might ask her to dance at a cotillion. Lately, the closest she’d ever come to a man asking her to dance was Eli chasing her down after church.

      Her gaze caught on Kirk’s grin, his lips. She’d bet money they wouldn’t be wet and sloppy like Eli’s.

      Kirk shifted to lean one hand on the frame of the doorway, and started laughing. Bess clamped her lips shut, realizing her mouth was hanging open.

      The brief but fascinating excitement of a stomach full of butterflies completely disappeared. “You’re a—”

      His challenge was silent, a mere lift of one brow, but it stole what she’d been about to say right out of her lips. She hated being speechless, especially when it came to him. “Good night, Sheriff.” Dredging up the best insult she could think of, she added, “Make sure you take your boots off—I don’t want to have to wash sheets again tomorrow.”

      He pushed off the wall and walked into the dining room with a slow, yet determined swagger. “You never want to wash sheets.”

      “I’ve never complained.”

      “But you want to.”

      Fueled, and unable not to, for arguing with him was the most СКАЧАТЬ