Boot Hill Bride (23 page)
air, he paused on the landing to catch his breath. Dang it, all
he had done was told her to get out of that hole. Hell,
anything could have happened to her down there. Snake
should have known better than to ask her to do something
like that. And he'd better never do it again. No one had, he
made certain of that, he'd told them all she wasn't allowed to
help at the hotel, at all.
"Geez, Hog. I would have helped you carry that. Those
rugs are as heavy as a load of bricks." Bug walked out of one
of the rooms at the end of the hall, striding toward him. "Let
me help, what room are you going to?"
"I got it," he grumbled.
Bug paused, his face flashed confusion for a moment.
"Which room?"
Howard nodded toward the closest room. All of a sudden
the rug had become extremely heavy. Bug leaped forward,
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opened the door, and stood aside for Howard to carry in the
load.
He dropped it onto the pile of several others, and then
bent forward. Pressing both hands to his knees, he drew in
several long breaths, wishing he could gain control of his
heart as easily as he could his breathing.
"You carried all of those up here?" Bug asked, pointing at
the mountain of rolled rugs.
"Yes," he huffed.
"Why?"
He straightened. "Because they're the rugs for the rooms
on this floor."
Bug nodded. "I know, but they didn't all need to be carried
up right now, did they?"
Howard glanced to the rugs. He'd wanted something
physical to do, needed to burn off his annoyance. Hefting the
huge rugs up the stairs seemed like a good idea at the time.
"Yes, they did," he said, trying to convince himself as
much as his brother.
Bug rubbed a hand over his chin. Though the youngest of
the five brothers was now twenty-one, Bug had that pretty
little-boy appearance and didn't look much over sixteen.
"I see," Bug said.
Howard glared. "You see what?"
"You and Randi had a tiff, did ya?"
"No, we didn't have
a tiff
."
"That's not what Snake says."
"Ya, well Snake better keep his trap shut if he knows
what's good for him."
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Bug sat down on the heap of rugs and patted the space
beside him. "Have a seat."
Howard frowned. Who did Bug think he was? He wasn't
about to sit down and listen to what the little snap had to say.
He moved over to stand by one of the framed in window
spaces, hoped the breeze would cool his sweating body.
Bug patted the rugs again. "Come on, have a seat."
Not the faintest breeze entered. Where was the wind
Kansas was so known for when he needed it? Howard ran a
hand over the back of his neck, where the muscles were
stiffening from the strain of carrying so much. A brief rest
couldn't hurt. He moved across the room and plopped down
beside his brother.
Still miffed, he bluntly said, "We didn't have a tiff."
Bug bobbed his head up and down several times. After a
few stilled moments, he said, "These are nice rugs. Gonna
look real fetchin'."
"Yeah," Howard mumbled.
"I got the last of the closet doors installed." Bug let out a
low whistle. "Built in closets in every room. Folks ain't gonna
know what to think when they see them. You really think Lila
knows what's she talking about?" He waved a hand about the
hotel room. "Built in closets, a private bathing station in each
room," he turned, lifted an eyebrow, "room service?"
Howard shrugged. "I believe her. They all sound like things
people may want while staying at a luxury hotel."
"She's probably right. Women usually are. Guess it's
instinct or something. Men are the hot headed ones. We
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spout off without thinking, just jump into action. Where as
women, they're always thinking."
A shower of cold rain couldn't have been more awakening.
Howard took a deep breath.
"Are you saying Randi's right, too? That I was just
spouting off?"
Bug stood up. "I ain't saying nothing. But I'll tell you Randi
carried an armload of clothes up to your rooms a short time
ago. And Ma said the two of you are going out to have supper
in town tonight."
"Shit!" Howard leaped to his feet. "I forgot. What time is
it?"
Bug pulled a watch out of his front pocket. "A little after
six."
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Howard eased the door off the hallway open and peeked
around the edge before stepping into the empty sitting room.
Closing the door behind him, he turned to slip into the
bathing chamber.
"Howard?"
One foot stalled mid-air at the sound of his name. She was
in the bedroom, the tone of her voice was light, not laced with
anger as it had been before—after he'd thrust her out of the
hole. A heavy sigh left his chest. Had he heard the tone right,
or was it just wishful thinking? He lowered the foot to the
floor and quivering like a kid in trouble, walked to the
doorway.
As earlier, she sat at the little table, this time she poked
pins into the back of her hair. He moved farther in so he could
peer in the mirror. He loved the way she made her hair billow
out from her face and situated tiny curls to hang down at her
temples and in front of each ear.
His heart stopped as their gazes met. One corner of her
lips barely inched upwards.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello," he croaked, unable to swallow the frog in his
throat.
"I laid clean clothes in the bathroom. That is if you still
want to go." She lowered her arms and twisted about to look
at him.
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"Yeah, sure," he answered, a touch apprehensive. "If you
still want to go."
"I do."
"All right." He pointed to his shirt. "I'll go get cleaned up."
She stood, and every muscle in his big frame pulled tight.
The gown she wore fit her like an old glove, so snug every
curve of her body was highlighted. The raven-black material
had tiny silver stitches running along a very low neckline,
drawing his eyes directly to her cleavage. The firm mounds
popped out of the material as if they wanted to play a game
of hide and seek with him.
He gulped. "Y-you look incredible." The word was inferior,
didn't begin to describe how beautiful she looked, but it was
the only one his fumbling mind could come up with. She must
have liked it because a faint pink blush lit up her cheeks.
"Thank you." She stepped closer, and her sweet unique
scent, which always reminded him of vanilla, filled his nose.
"About this afternoon," she started, lowering her dark lashes.
"I—I'm sorry. I-I over reacted."
Repent flooded his system, made him feel lower than an
ant. "No. It was my fault. I'm sorry, I—uh spouted off without
thinking." Bug's words seemed a fitting explanation. She was
close enough to wrap his arms around, but he couldn't, sweat
still trickled under his arms. He held up both hands and took
a step back.
"I gotta get cleaned up, or we'll be late."
Her top teeth bit her bottom lip so hard the area turned
white, and her gaze held a touch of uncertainty. She dipped
her head.
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"Of course."
He couldn't resist and leaned forward to brush a kiss to her
forehead.
"I won't be long, I promise."
Less than fifteen minutes later, he, too, decided running
water was a remarkable discovery. After buttoning the tan
silk vest with tiny brown diamond shapes weaved in the
material, he grabbed the jacket hanging on the hook on the
back of the door and left the room.
"Randi? Randi? Where did these new clothes come from?"
She twisted her elegant neck to gaze at him from where
she sat on the settee in the front room. The sight had the
ability to puff his chest with stalled air. He'd thought of how
she'd look, sitting in the middle of this room while he built it,
but the real sight was even more charming than when he'd
imagined it. She was as well-designed as her surroundings—a
queen in a royal court.
"Does it fit?" she asked.
"Uh?" It took his wandering mind a moment to register
what she asked. "Yes." He slid his arms in the black, silk-lined
jacket. "Yes, they fit. Where'd they come from?"
"Your mother made them. She was going to wait until the
grand opening to give them to us, but decided we should
wear them tonight." With both hands, she lifted her alluring
skirt, stood, and then walked around the furniture, meeting
him in the middle of the room. Her fingers immediately went
to his tie, deftly tied it into a knot—without choking him, a
feat in itself.
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"Turn around," she said. "I told her I'd inspect it, make
sure it fits perfectly."
He did as instructed, feeling a bit foolish having a woman
scrutinize him so.
"It's fine," he said, stopping so they once again faced each
other. "Did she make yours, too?"
"Yes, isn't she talented?" She hitched her skirt off the floor
and twirled around so quickly he barely caught sight of the
dress.
He took her shoulders. "Do that again, but slower, let me
inspect your dress."
Her smile hit his heart like a bullet. Slowly, she turned,
whipping her head about so their eyes met for most of the
time.
When she stopped, once again facing him, she asked, "So,
what do you think?"
"I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
He couldn't wait any longer, not without dying leastwise.
Without further ado he lowered his head and covered her lips
with a smoldering kiss.
He'd much rather stay here, in their apartment, and slowly
uncover the beautiful body beneath the attractive black dress,
but knowing they couldn't, he raised his face, easing out of
the kiss with several small pecks.
Randi sighed, a sound that made his groin quiver, and
rested her head against his chest.
"Do we have to go?" she asked, breathlessly.
He chuckled, stepped back to lift her chin and gaze into
her majestic eyes. That's it, he thought, the name of their
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hotel flashed across his mind, The Majestic. His chest filled
with pride.
"Yes, my dear wife, we have to go. A few minutes ago you
said you wanted to."
"I know, but that was before you kissed me."
Her eyes shimmered with such promise that he truly
considered changing their plans.
"We'll leave early," he declared, brushing one more kiss
over her lips.
The Dodge House was nice, but with black and white
checkered tablecloths and heavy dull stoneware dishes, it
held none of the elegance Howard's—no their—hotel would
possess. Then again, maybe it was her. While walking to the
restaurant Randi silently tried to boost her courage, ready
herself to tell her father he wouldn't be receiving a donation
from her husband—not if she had anything to say about it
anyway. But the minute she'd seen her father and Belinda
across the crowded room, her throat locked up tighter than if
she'd eaten a batch of poison berries, and her toes began to
tremble.
Randi smoothed the red plaid napkin lying on her lap and
snuck a peek at her husband sitting beside her. Dashing,
downright amazingly handsome in his impeccable new suit,
there wasn't a man in all of Dodge who could compete with
his attractiveness. Probably not one in all of Kansas, or the
world for that matter, and the knowledge made her body
sizzle, especially since he was hers—all hers. A touch of
fortitude returned.
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The Majestic. During their walk to the Dodge House,
Howard had asked what she thought of the name for their
hotel, and she'd quickly agreed. She loved it. The name not
only described the hotel, it described him, and her life of late.
She didn't attempt to quell the smile forming on her face,
there really was no use. She was just too happy and literally
bubbling with joy that not even her stepmother could lessen
the feeling. Her throat opened, and the newfound strength
she'd possessed the last few weeks returned. She'd tell them
there would be no donation, and that they should return to
Topeka, post haste.
"You certainly seem smug tonight," Belinda said from
across the table, her brow slightly elevated.
Howard reached over and captured Randi's hand. She
flashed her smile his way.
"No, just happy," she admitted. "Just happy."