Texas Hold Him (29 page)

Their hired carriage arrived at Lottie’s front door too promptly for Newt’s liking. The more he thought about it, the more
he was sure Dyer wasn’t going to be pleased with their interference. Might be a good time to retire to that little farm outside
of Memphis. Maybe he should start running now . . .

“Don’t even think about it.”

Newt raised his brow. “Think about what?”

“Backing out.” Sally waited for Newt to step out of the carriage and offer his hand in assistance.

“Why, Miss Summerfield, you insult me with your lack of faith.”

Newt escorted Sally to the front stoop, where he took a deep breath and soundly rapped the knocker against the door.

A plump, older woman answered. “Yes?” she said, “How may I help you?”

Sally took a deep breath, her grip tightening on Newt’s arm. “We’re here to speak to Lottie, er, I mean Miss Charlotte Mason.”

“She isn’t here at the moment. I’m her aunt, Miss Dorothy Mason. Can I help you?”

Sally glanced up at Newt for reinforcement, then returned her attention to the aunt. “My name is Miss Sally Summerfield, and
this is Mr. Newt Crawford. We’re friends of Charlotte’s, and we need to speak to her.”

The aunt frowned. “Are you here on behalf of Mr. Straights?”

“Yes,” Sally said.

The aunt didn’t seem pleased to hear that answer. She harrumphed, “She’s gone,” and started to close the door.

“Wait.” Newt stopped the closing door with his foot. Now that they were here, they might as well see this through.

“Where did she go?” he asked.

The aunt’s cheeks flushed with immediate indignation. Evidently she wasn’t used to people sticking their feet in her door.
“As far away from Mr. Straights as possible. That man is not good for her.”

“Is that your decision or hers?” Sally asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

Newt had to admire the aunt for protecting Lottie. Part of him tended to agree with her, but this was between Lottie and Dyer.
And as much as he hated to admit it, they loved each other. That much was clear. Damn, he was starting to sound like Sally.

He cleared his throat. “Miss Mason, how has Lottie been lately?”

“She’s feeling just fine.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. How much of her days has she spent crying?”

Now the aunt’s eyes were talking, and the flash of sadness answered his question. She sighed. “She’s been upset, but she’s
been through a lot. This move is the best thing she can do.”

“
What move?
” Sally asked.

Dorothy fanned her hand. “I’ve said too much.” She reached again for the door, but this time Sally’s foot got in the way.

“Have you ever been in love?” Sally asked.

All three stood silently as the question hung in the air. Dorothy’s face turned both sad and distant before she finally whispered,
“Once.” Her stare drifted off on a memory.

“Don’t you wish you’d done everything you could’ve to keep it?”

Dorothy’s gaze jerked back to Sally. “I don’t see what this has to do with Charlotte.”

“Yes, you do.” Sally’s statement somehow chipped through Dorothy’s resolve.

She lowered her head with a sigh. “She went to the station to catch a train to California.”

“Thank you.” Sally turned on the stoop, dragging Newt with her toward the carriage.

“But Mr. Straights is a
gambler
,” Dorothy said to their retreating backs.

Sally yelled over her shoulder without breaking stride, “That’s not the worst of it, he’s also a
Yankee
!”

“Oh my . . .”

Sally looked up at Newt. “Did she swoon?”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Yep.”

“Should we help her?”

“Nope. She managed to drop into a chair without any apparent injury. I think she may be a professional.”

Sally chuckled as Newt helped her into the carriage and took the seat beside her.

“You did real good back there,” he said once the carriage rolled forward.

“I guess she didn’t know what I was.” Sally dropped her gaze to her folded hands in her lap.

Newt laid his hand on top of hers. “You mean she didn’t know what a good friend you are to her niece, or that she didn’t know
what a fine woman you are in general?”

She blinked back a tear. “It’s been fun pretending to be like other women, but as soon as we’re finished, I have to go back
to what I really am.”

“A fine woman?”

“No, I mean a riverboat whore.”

“And I’m a gambler.”

“Society is a little more lenient with a man’s sins than a woman’s.”

“Sally, I—”

She patted his knee. “It’s all right. I know my place.”

“How would you like to change it?”

More silence filled the air.

“I’m too old to believe in fairy tales,” she finally answered.

“Me too. But I own a farm near Memphis, and cows are a better judge of character than genteel society.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He knew exactly what he was saying. He just couldn’t believe he hadn’t said it before. But he didn’t have a chance to explain
it to her before the station came into view, a large locomotive pulling away with much belching of steam.

Newt jumped from the carriage and ran toward the train. “Where’s that train headed?” he asked one of the men who’d just loaded
the passengers.

“California,” he answered, stepping away.

Sally caught up with Newt just as he turned to head back to the carriage.

“Damn,” Newt muttered. “We’re too late.”

Sally took his arm. “Maybe it would be better if the two of them figured it out on their own, anyway.”

“Well, hell, I think I’ve been saying that all along.”

Sally’s lips lifted in a soft smile. “You can’t blame me for trying. A woman’s always going to hope for love to conquer all.”

“Sometimes love is overrated,” he said, helping her into the carriage.

“Why, Newt Crawford, you sound like a cynic.”

“Just a realist.” He couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Lottie and Dyer were good together, and they were in for
a lot of empty years if they didn’t figure that out.

He paused. Maybe he should pay closer attention to his own advice.

The horse plodded along for a few moments before Sally said, “You don’t think love is real?”

“Not as real as friendship.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “How about it, Sally? Surely two old river
rats like us could be happy together on my farm. Will you come with me?”

She hesitated for a moment, then looked up at him with hope-filled eyes. “Do you think the cows will approve?”

He chuckled. “Any that don’t, we’ll eat.”

Lottie watched the train pull away from the station, realizing she’d just made an important decision. It was a frightening
decision and an
I’ll probably regret this later
decision, but it was a decision nonetheless.

She loved Dyer. God help her, but she did, and if this entire situation had taught her anything at all, it was that Charlotte
Mason was a force to be reckoned with.

Taking a deep breath, she picked up her valise and left the station. Dyer may send her on her way or tell her he didn’t love
her or laugh at her, but what ever happened, would happen to her face.

She’d traveled a riverboat, gambled with the best in the country, saved her father from a blackmailing lunatic, and ridden
a farting jackass. And she’d done it on her own. Almost. Facing Dyer couldn’t be nearly as difficult as all that.

Gulp.

Dyer waited patiently for the dealer to shuffle the deck and distribute the cards to the gamblers at the table. It had been
two weeks since he’d killed Dawson, but the emptiness inside him felt deeper than ever. Instead of life getting better, it
had taken a turn for the worse. None of the whiskey was smooth enough, none of the women were pretty enough, and even the
tables lacked the excitement he longed to feel again.

Of course, that could be due to the fact that every dealer on the river had decided to give him the shittiest cards they could
deal. He picked up his newly dealt hand, not surprised to learn that this dealer was in cahoots with the rest of them. There
wasn’t a card in the five worth keeping.

“Why, isn’t that the cutest thing? All your cards match.”

Dyer continued to stare at his hand, barely aware of the other men rapidly pitching their cards to the center of the table.
He didn’t want to look up.

What if it was Lottie?

Or worse still, what if it wasn’t?

He laid his pathetic hand of cards facedown on the table, slid them to the dealer and took a deep breath before he glanced
up at her. It was a good thing he’d taken that breath, because the beautiful vision in front of him practically jerked it
right back out of his lungs.

He loved her, and even though he knew he should push her away, he couldn’t. Not anymore.

She’d used some of her winnings on a blue satin gown that skimmed down her beautiful body like he ached to. A low neckline
trimmed in lace drew his eyes to the creamy breasts that swelled above her bodice and the golden locket that danced between
them. A matching little hat tipped saucily over one eye, an eye that currently had a brow raised in an unspoken,
Well?

He stood and started to speak, but she stopped him by silently pointing to the door. He dropped his head and headed toward
the deck. He’d let her give him a piece of her mind. She had that right, but then he was going to carry her back to his cabin
and make love to her until that mind would be incapable of thought.

He stepped into the Louisiana night and hooked his thumbs into his belt to keep himself from grabbing her and kissing her
senseless.

“What can I help you with, Miss Mace?”

“I believe there is a matter of some unfinished business between us, Mr. Straights.”

The tip to her chin and the curl to her sassy little mouth just asked for it. “And what might that be?” he asked, his blood
pumping hotter than it had in weeks.

“You had promised the second time didn’t hurt. I think that implies a second time, does it not?”

There was a slight quiver to her voice, and he knew if there was enough light to see her clearly, her face would be six shades
of red. But she had said it anyway. And she wouldn’t have unless she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

His heart filled to the point of breaking. He wanted to shout and pull her into his arms. Instead, he rubbed his
chin and pretended to contemplate her statement. This was going to be one hell of a night, and he intended to savor every
minute.

“I can see how that statement did have implications, but the conditions were not clearly established.”

“Conditions?”

Good. Her shaky voice showed the minx was still unaware she had his balls, not that he minded, of course. There was no place
he’d rather they be. He placed his finger under her chin and tipped back her head to look into her eyes.

“I propose a wager, Miss Mace.”

“What type of wager?” Her voice was wispy and breathless, and he fought the urge to sip it into his mouth.

“Poker,” he said. “Five Card Draw, winner takes all.”

“All what?” she whispered.

“All he wants.”

“All
he
wants, Mr. Straights? What if
she
wins?”

A slow smile lifted the corner of his mouth, his voice dropping to a low rumble as he said, “That would be even better.”

He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her up the steps and across the deck to his cabin. She waited patiently
while he unlocked the door and guided her into the darkened interior.

It was tempting to tumble her immediately to the bed. But he had promised her pleasure, and by damn, she was going to get
it.

The lamp on his bureau sent a flood of soft light into the room, allowing him to find his cards and return to the table. Lottie
had already taken her seat, and the amber glow on her skin threatened to steal his breath once more.

“You wish to deal, or shall I?”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips, and his whole body jumped to attention. Well, at least part of it did.

“You deal. I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good at it.” She nervously tucked a blonde curl back under her hat as though it would
stay there.

He took his seat before she could realize the effect she had on him and shuffled the cards. A few quick flips of his wrists
and both had their first five.

Lottie picked up her cards, willing her hands not to shake. It had taken every bit of resolve she had to force herself to
come to the
Belle
and offer herself to this man, and now he toyed with her like a cat would a mouse. To make matters worse, she still didn’t
know if he wanted her. He seemed so calm and collected while she sat there with enough butterflies in her belly to fly her
clear off the boat.

He leaned across the table toward her. His gaze landed on her breasts before it slid lazily up to her face, his sinfully dark
eyes causing her insides to melt.

“Well, Miss Mace?” The question purred in his throat.

She gulped. “Well?” Why did she suddenly seem incapable of anything other than a one-word response?

“What do you want?” His eyes dropped to her mouth.

“Want?” Another brilliant retort squeaked from her as she found herself leaning toward him.

“Cards, Miss Mace. Do you wish to exchange any cards?”

“Oh!” She straightened up and attempted to study her hand.

Somewhere in this mix of clovers and diamonds, she
needed to make a decision. Keep the high cards, throw out the low cards, she thought, pitching her two lowest cards to the
center before it dawned on her it had been a pair of fours. But it didn’t matter anyway. Winner takes all had been the wager,
and if she won the hand, what would she demand? She had already asked him to make love to her once, and she didn’t think she
had the nerve to do it again.

Dyer slid her two new cards and took one for his hand.

“What have the gods given you?” he asked, laying down his hand to reveal a full house.