“I have no intention of rebuilding it. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You’re in a brothel.”
“It’s the middle of the day.”
“It’s a brothel!” He shoved her down the hallway. Bess was standing where Petunia had left her. Ace shot her a glare. “What the hell were you thinking, Bess? Letting her up here.”
“What did you expect me to do?” Bess snapped back.
“Trip her and knock her down, throw a punch.”
“She wasn’t looking for me.”
“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath. “Fucking women.”
Petunia wanted to shout back “Fucking men” but no matter how liberated she was, she hadn’t gotten to the point where she could say words like that.
Ace hustled her down the stairs. Her skirt caught on her heel, tripping her. He hauled her up. “Keep moving.”
“It would be easier if you slowed down.”
“I’m getting you the hell out of here before somebody sees you with me and starts thinking we need to get married.”
“I have no intention of getting married.”
He grunted. “Probably a lot of men grateful for that fact.”
She planted her feet. “Did you just insult me?”
He yanked her forward. “I haven’t begun yet.”
“Should have taken me, honey.” Jimmy lurched toward them. “Seems like he’s not in any too hurry to have you.”
Ace swore. Petunia looked over her shoulder at the drunk and smiled sweetly. “I insisted on clean sheets.”
He hauled her along to the back of the saloon. “I hope nobody saw you come in here.”
“I imagine everyone on the street watched me come in here.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“I don’t know what you’re worried about. Even if they march you down the aisle with a shotgun at your back, I’ll never say I do.”
This time he was the one to jerk them to a halt. “Why the hell not?”
“Because my standards for a husband are a bit higher.”
Pushing her through the back door and into the alley, he snarled. “I bet.”
Letting go of her arm, he faced her. He was still standing too close for Petunia to catch a decent breath. And with his shirt flapping open like that, he was still too much temptation for her mind to focus the way she needed it to. She wanted to run her fingers through the dusting of hair on his chest to see if it was soft or wiry. She also had an incredible urge to bite his right pectoral. To leave her mark on him.
Clenching her fists at her sides, Petunia reached for focus. It stayed just out of reach. The circular scar just to the left of Ace’s breastbone was far more tempting. She wondered how he’d gotten it. She wondered how it’d feel. Were the edges soft or rough? Was his skin warm to the touch or cool? How would he taste?
With a growled curse, Ace yanked his shirt closed. “So what was so important that you had to come storming into my bedroom?”
“I did not storm.”
He sighed. “I’ll rephrase. What was so important you had to wake me from a good sleep and put us both in peril of a shotgun wedding?”
She wanted to stomp her foot. “Will you stop harping on a wedding?”
The muscles in his jaws bunched. His tone when he spoke was more even. “What was so damn important?”
“You were at a card game last night with the father of one of my students.”
“I was in a game last night with a lot of fathers of a lot of kids.”
“Terrance’s father is Brian Winter.”
“Ah, that one.”
“What does ah mean?”
“He drinks too much, has too many tales and bets more than he can afford.”
“That’s why I’m here. I want you to give him back what you won.”
He blinked. “You want me to do what?”
“I want you to give him back what you won.”
“Why in hell would I do that?”
“Because he lost more than he can afford to.”
“Not my problem.”
“He took out his frustration on his son. And without a home the Winters will have to leave...”
Ace’s expression didn’t change.
“Terrance is a good student with an inquisitive mind. He deserves a chance to grow up to be a man who can use that mind.”
“Nobody ever said life was fair.”
Now she wanted to growl. “Life might not be fair, but people can be.”
“And you think it’s fair to ask me to give back my winnings?”
“Yes.”
“You do realize this is how I make the majority of my living?”
“Yes, I realize you make money this way, a lot of it. Enough that you can afford to give him back his.”
Ace leaned back against the building and folded his arms across his chest. It was a position that spoke of confidence and power. Her knees went weak.
“What’s in it for me?”
“The knowledge that you bought a little boy some time.”
“You think because I give this money back, Brian won’t go back to that table again?”
“Giving the money back isn’t enough.”
“Not enough?”
She shook her head. “You can’t gamble with him anymore.”
Another of those slow blinks. “I can’t?”
“No.”
“Honey, I’m a grown man and so is he, and your nose, cute as it is, is sticking where it doesn’t belong.”
That was too much. Very calmly, very precisely she said, “This morning, Terrance, my student, came into my classroom with a black eye and a split lip asking for my help because he’s being put out of his home. That being the case, I’m here to appeal to whatever shred of decency that still exists in your body to give that horrible man back his money so that little boy will have a home tomorrow.”
Ace pushed his hat back and rubbed his forehead. In the late-afternoon light, she could see the paleness of his skin, the tightness of his expression. He was hungover.
He sighed. “That’s a hell of a lot of words to throw at a man before coffee.”
She looked at him. “I’ve got more.”
“Save them.”
“Then just say you’ll do it, and I’ll let you go get your cup of coffee.”
“That’s a fool’s mission.”
“You’re Hell’s Eight and a Texas Ranger. There has to be honor in you somewhere.”
“That’s a common myth.” Taking off his hat, he ran his hand through his hair again before asking, “He beat the boy?”
“He beats Terrance every time you take his money.”
His