Betting It All Read online

  A bitter chuckle escaped. She’d done the tossing instead, and her kick to his hard groin left him writhing in agony. Too bad it wasn’t the lasting kind of pain, like he’d inflicted on her, claiming she’d begged for it. His lie followed her for years on the whispering lips of other boys who wanted what Floyd supposedly had.

  Would Mac treat her so poorly? Of course not. She’d provide him with wages. If she wasn’t careful, he’d woo more from her, and soon she’d have less than nothing. No money, no saloon and worst, a ruined reputation. No man would rob her of that.

  She lifted her bag, then thought better of it. Let Mac learn right away to take orders from her. After setting it on the bed, she put on her hat and opened the door.

  Mac leaned his shoulder against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, aimlessly twirling his tweed cap in his hands. Glancing up, he straightened and scrunched the cap.

  At least he pretended seriousness. “Please get my bags.”

  He flashed a smile and winked. “Yes ma’am.”

  A more fragile female might be devastated by his charms. Oh, she hoped this wouldn’t turn out to be a terrible mistake.

  Hoisting one bag under his arm, he grabbed the handle of the remaining one. “All set.”

  “Excellent.” She led the way downstairs, stopping at the front desk to check out and settle her account. Outside, she found Mac wearing his cap and a smile.

  The bustle of the busy street made her hurry in excitement. “I wish I had time to explore the city.”

  “It’s something, isn’t it? Makes me feel more alive.”

  Slowing her pace, she glanced over. “Yes. Exactly.” She couldn’t hide her surprise at sharing that feeling. “Once I make my success, I’ll indulge my curiosity. Until then, I have too much work ahead.” She hurried on.

  He fell into easy step with her. “There’s always time for work. My mama always said it’s more important to take time to celebrate.”

  “Celebrate what?”

  “Life.” He said it as if she should have known the answer.

  Funny, she’d never shared that inclination. Life presented too many challenges, too many obstacles she had to scrabble over. “I’m glad your mother was able to do so.” Estelle pretended to gain pleasure from her work, but Norah knew it was all an act; otherwise, why would her mother bury herself in a bottle to ready herself for the next man?

  “Only because she set the time aside. Otherwise, she’d have worked every day.” He jostled the luggage. “Might we board a streetcar? These are growing heavy.”

  “Of course.” She should have thought of that. No need to tire him needlessly. He’d need plenty of energy for what she had planned.

  ***

  After Norah unlocked the door and Mac stepped inside, his hope renewed. This place might be her dream, but it could also prove his salvation. She’d never admit to needing him, but he’d make himself indispensable.

  He set down the bags. “Looks great. A little cleaning up’s all it needs.”

  “Wrong, Mac. I have plans.” Folding her arms, she looked around the room with a studious air.

  Uh oh. He could almost see the cogs churning ideas through her pretty little skull, and he recognized the light in her face. It meant hard labor. On his part. “But it’s in good shape.”

  “Customers can find an average place elsewhere. Mine will be a cut above the rest.” The dreaminess in her voice and face softened her, made her more beautiful than ever.

  “Will it now?” His brogue surfaced, and he cleared his throat. He couldn’t afford for her to fire his Irish ass for repelling patrons. “What will you name it?”

  A frown wiped away her smile. “I’m working on that. Meanwhile, you’ll clean. I have sewing to do.”

  “Sewing? If men wanted frilly curtains and such, they’d go home.”

  She laughed. “Exactly.”

  Her knowing look intrigued him. Norah Hawkins would surprise him, of that he felt sure.

  His heart leapt at seeing the piano. “Saints alive.” He strode toward it.

  “I didn’t order it,” she called.

  Did he hear regret in her tone? He walked his fingers along the keys, up a scale. Only a little out of tune. He could fix that.

  “I may get rid of it.”

  He whipped his head toward her. “No.” He couldn’t help the urgency in his voice.

  She stilled, expression wary.

  Why did she suddenly look ready to fend him off? He could ill afford to lose a job he’d barely started, so forced a smile. “It would be a shame to part with it.”

  The hardness in her jaw reflected in her eyes. “I told you, I need a bartender, not a piano player.”

  Again with the tough act. Yet he recognized the vulnerable girl hiding behind it. “Sometimes you don’t know what you need until you find it.” He hoped to prove that to her, in many ways. Someone had hurt her, but he could show her not all men were cads.

  “What?”

  The room filled with tension, heating the air. His senses sharpened, every inch of him aware of her. The rise and fall of her breath. The wisp of hair escaping from the twist to curl along her neck. The beauty mark on her neck that invited him to lick and taste. The yearning in her eyes ignited heat that sizzled along his veins. The only thing stopping him from reaching for her was her fear. So plain in the way she grew rigid and eased away from him, it checked his desire.

  Now he couldn’t recall what she’d said. “What?”

  She blinked hard, and turned stiffly away. “Take my bags upstairs, please. Then we’ll go buy some cleaning supplies. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”

  Funny how hearing her include him in her plans filled him with the joy of a lad.

  “Right.” Yes, the woman would surprise him in many ways, he’d wager. He had a few surprises in him as well.

  ***

  The saloon. The saloon. Norah repeated it in her head again and again as they rode the streetcar. She couldn’t make her dream come true if she forgot why she’d come here: to fashion a successful business, and become respectable in a place where no one knew her, or judged her by her mother’s chosen profession.

  All that threatened to crumble away when Mac looked at her like that. No other man made her wonder what his lips might taste like.

  No! One moment’s foolishness. It would be no more than that, but it would cost her everything. From now on, she’d double her guard in his presence.

  For once, she welcomed an overcast sky and cool air. It revived her senses. She wouldn’t lose them again. “I must find a fabric store. I’ll need several bolts.” Focusing on renovating the saloon—my own saloon!—helped block other thoughts. How his dark hair curled at his collar. His broad shoulders, and the wisps of chest hair escaping from the top of his shirt, the first few buttons undone. To keep from reaching over, she gripped the pole and let the breeze wash over her.

  Mac stared out the open car beneath furrowed brows. “You need a horse and cart soon.”

  “I don’t need one. I have you.” Strong as any ox, she’d bet, with those shoulders. Yes, wide and probably rippling with muscles. The thought of running her hand across his naked contours made her shift away to keep her mind clear.

  He narrowed his eyes in a bitter face. “Right.”

  Good. Let him stew in his own juices. It would remind him who paid his salary. She tensed, realizing they hadn’t discussed actual wages. What if he wanted a king’s ransom? Well, she’d have to fire him. Better to get those details out of the way now.

  “Until the business opens, I’ll be short on cash.” Not entirely true, but she needed to reserve her funds.

  He swung his head toward her. “What are you saying? You won’t pay me until then?”

  “I can’t afford much right now.” No use trying the little girl act; he’d see through her as he had from the start.

  Nostrils flared, his lips thinned into a grimace. “Then I’ll be wanting the back room to sleep in.”

 
She winced. “What?”

  He looked incredulous. “How do you expect me to live on no wages?”

  My, my, but he flew off the handle easily. It helped her regain her cool balance. “I didn’t say ‘no wages’, only that I couldn’t afford much.”

  He flailed an arm. “Which leaves me with no options. The back room, or I find other work. That does pay.”

  Like it or not, he had a point. “Fine. But only until I make a profit and can pay you more. Then you’ll have to find board elsewhere.”

  “Fine.” He straightened to his full height.

  His strong jaw hardened, its curve making her want to hook her fingers along its edge. The sensation of standing so close made her senses come alive, like the thrill of risking a dare when she was young. Only now, the risk was much greater and the consequences much more devastating.

  He pointed. “We need to get off up here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve been through here a few times. I made note of supply stores and such.”

  “Oh. Good.” She didn’t want him to recognize her ignorance. The city still confused her. She hadn’t yet figured out its streets. How had he managed to?

  He stepped from the moving vehicle. Turning, he reached to help her down.

  A gentleman—another surprise. She grasped his hand and alighted beside him. “Where to?”

  He extended his elbow. “Follow me.”

  Not in her nature usually, but she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. The firm muscle beneath startled her. So did he, when he waited for her to walk alongside, not behind. Likewise, their equal strides seemed perfectly matched. She forced that thought away.

  In her short life, she’d known of no two people who’d ever been perfectly matched. Or happy together, for that matter. The woman always complained of the man, who inevitably turned to find solace in another woman’s arms.

  Better to stand alone in this world than to rely on someone who’d let her down.

  Chapter Four

  The place had a definite flair, Mac had to admit. Norah’s industriousness surprised him. The striped pillows and matching curtains she sewed added class. Green and gold, the colors of money. Polishing the wooden bar, he could easily imagine a roomful of men enjoying this place.

  Maybe a little too much. Norah herself added to the ambience, and most men would expect more services than she wanted to provide. He had trouble concentrating when she stood on the chair to hang the curtains. As she strained to straighten them, he resisted the urge to hurry to her aid. Hold her narrow waist, steady her so she didn’t fall, unless she might fall into his arms.

  Some nights, he lay awake, tense on his cot, listening to her pace the floor above. He’d never known a more driven woman. More infuriating. More challenging. Somehow, her challenges always brought out the best in him. He liked to think he did the same for her.

  She stepped down from the chair and placed her hands at her hips. “Do they look all right?”

  “Fantastic.” Not as nice a view as when she reached up to fix them, though.

  She swung toward him with a wry smile.

  Oops, too much. He rubbed the cloth along the wood. “I mean, very classy.”

  “Good work on the counter, too.” She sighed. “All we need now is a name.”

  We. Warmth twisted through him. She’d included him again. “No luck yet, eh?”

  “It’s silly, I know. But it has to be perfect.” She strolled over and rested her arms against the bar.

  “Yes, to match the atmosphere.”

  “Right.” Pleasure lightened her voice.

  “Because you can’t have people assuming your saloon is like the others in the Barbary District.” He’d neglected to warn her earlier, and hoped she’d take his advice to heart.

  “The Barbary District?”

  Had she never heard of it? No, of course not. She’d spent the last few weeks preparing to open. When she did venture out, she returned with supplies or food. She’d never taken any time to explore, as they’d discussed.

  He had to warn her. “Unsavory places offering all manner of vice.”

  Her face hardened, and her diction grew crisp. “I already explained to you. My saloon will be an establishment for gentlemen.”

  “Plenty of so-called ‘gentlemen’ frequent that area, Norah.”

  She bristled. “Then let them go to the Barbary District.”

  “And they will. Who will that leave to patronize your establishment?”

  Her jaw clenched. “True gentlemen.”

  True gentlemen would stay home with their wives and families, he wanted to say. “Perhaps if you hired other entertainment.”

  “Such as a piano player?” She pursed her lips.

  If the counter hadn’t separated them, he might have reached over and smoothed those lips, run his finger along her mouth….

  His gaze returned to hers. Hell’s bells. Caught staring. Again, the wariness in her eyes as she moved away kept him in check. Though he’d never press himself on her—he’d never had the need to with any other woman—he could ill-afford to put her on edge. More than that, he wanted her to know she could trust him.

  He shrugged. “I’m simply offering advice.” Advice that would ensure she’d keep him around longer. Oh, he liked the idea of Norah needing him.

  “I need workers, not advice.”

  At least he tried. “I can provide that as well.”

  “Then do your job. I’ll worry about the business.” Her glare iced him before she whirled away and rushed upstairs.

  A frustrated breath escaped him. She wouldn’t recognize the danger until too late.

  He’d have to watch out for her, whether she wanted him to or not.

  Frustration propelled Norah up the steps. She slammed the door and stomped across the floor. Damn that man. Did he really expect her to run a whorehouse because that’s what a few customers wanted? Surely some decent men lived in San Francisco. The others could take themselves to the Barbary District. Let Mac go, too, though the hurt that thought inflicted came as a surprise.

  She plopped onto the bed, and cursed its creak. This wrought iron bed had caught her eye in the store, and she’d spent a little more than she should have. When it proved rickety, she still loved it, but vowed in the future she’d never have less than the best.

  Nor would she lower herself below that standard. Her establishment would be the epitome of class and finery.

  “That’s it.” She rose. “I’ll call it ‘A Touch of Class’. No man in his right mind would believe it a bordello then.”

  Satisfied, she headed to the door. Hunger made her belly rumble. It must be past noon, and she hadn’t eaten all day. Had Mac?

  Pausing, she listened. His whistle echoed through the room downstairs, and chairs scraped along the wooden floor. Even after her outburst, he kept polishing and cleaning.

  Her cheeks flushed. Why wouldn’t he? He worked for her, after all. And he worked hard. If she didn’t want him to drop over, she’d have to feed him.

  Smoothing her hair and pinching her cheeks for good measure, she descended the stairs and halted at the bottom.

  His light-hearted whistling stopped when he looked up, his entire body tense as a jaguar ready to pounce. Then he whistled again, and continued polishing the tables.

  She stepped closer. “I’m going out for something to eat. Would you like to come along?”

  With a chuckle, he glanced down at himself. “I’m not fit to go out.”

  “You look fine.” To her, and likely to most other females.

  He arched a brow.

  Exasperated, she sighed. “Fine enough for a sandwich.”

  “All right.” He untied the long white apron he wore and cast it aside. “Let me wash up.” He strode behind the counter to the sink and scrubbed his hands, then splashed water on his face.

  How could a man look more appealing wet? She licked her lips without thinking. He caught the motion in the long mirror behind
the bar, and stared.

  His attention ensnared her. To free herself, she walked to the door and stepped onto the small wooden landing. The spring sunshine warmed her face. April already. Time slipped away so fast. She still had so much to do. So much to prove to the world.

  Mac stepped beside her and donned his cap. His rolled-up sleeves exposed the muscles in his forearms.

  Realizing she was gaping again, she turned away. “Ready?”

  He pressed his lips together, but smiled beneath. “Don’t you need your purse?”

  “Oh. Be right back.” Fool. She’d let herself become distracted by him. Rushing inside again, she found her purse upstairs and hurried back out. “Let’s go.”

  Falling in step with her, he spoke with his usual air of mischief. “I have a grand idea.”

  She chuckled. “I’m sure you do.” And just as sure she wouldn’t approve.

  “Let’s take the rest of the day off.”

  She strode faster. “Oh no.”

  “You need to acquaint yourself with the city, Norah. Enjoy life for a change.”

  Focusing ahead, she frowned. “We have too much to do.” Easy enough to spend time with Mac at the saloon, where their roles were defined. How would she know how to act elsewhere?

  “Remember my mama’s advice. Celebrate life.”

  The very invitation filled her with anxiety. “There’s no time.”

  He leapt in front of her and grasped her shoulders. “This is the time. Now. We’re going to the Chutes and Zoo.”

  Lost in his eyes, she forgot herself for a moment. Forgot he was the employee and she his employer. Forgot his touch meant nothing, or was not supposed to mean anything. Forgot to say no. “Where?”

  He grinned. “You just come along with me.”

  When he crooked his elbow toward her, she stiffened. Her glance bounced from his arm to his eyes. Warm, inviting eyes that seemed to say, Come on, Norah. Take a chance.

  “One afternoon,” she cautioned. “Then back to work.”