Double Chance Claim [Badlands 3] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) (5 page)

Wade couldn’t tell if she was angry or not. “You were crying in your sleep.”

Her eyes cast downward. “Thank you for holding me.”

“You’re welcome. Want some breakfast?” He regretted the words the second they exited his lips. He didn’t know what Wyatt had left to eat.

She stared at him for a very long time before answering quietly, “No, thank you. I told you I’d leave before dawn.”

“So you did.”

Her wary expression didn’t worry him as much as her sudden movement nearer. Carefully, she closed the distance between them one step at a time. Once she got to within two feet, she stopped. “You aren’t Wyatt Chance.”

No. But how did you guess?

“Sure I am.” Wade pasted a big grin on his face. “Who else would I be?”

“I don’t know, but you aren’t the man I met last night.”

“I held you all night long, honey.”

She nodded. “Perhaps. But you aren’t the man I met first.”

“What makes you say that?”

She leaned in closer and took a deep breath. “You smell different.”

Chapter Five

“That’s just the whiskey. I drank too much last night.” His glib answer didn’t convince Maggie that the man who stood before her this morning was the same as the man she’d met last night.

“How did you have time to drink so much before coming up to my room?” Something was up. While this man had held her all night long and looked very much like the man from the night before, it wasn’t Wyatt.

He shrugged and grinned. “Trust me, honey. It doesn’t take very long to down a half bottle of booze.”

She let the matter go for the time being as she had more important things to deal with this morning. Like what to do with the rest of her life.

“Do you have time to walk me down to the hotel?”

His gaze narrowed for a moment. “Maybe. I have to pick up some supplies at the dry goods store.”

“I can wait.”

“No. That’s okay. Let’s go. Where are your bags?”

 
“Ah, ha!” She whirled on him. “I told you last night. Are you saying you don’t remember?”

He placed a hand across his eyes and rubbed vigorously.
 
“No. I’m saying I drank last night. Memory is a tricky thing after drinking as much as I did. Are you going to tell me where they are or carry them yourself?”

She sighed. “I left them at the church.”

He pulled one hand down his face. “Oh right. The church.”

“You don’t remember because I never told
you
anything, I told your identical twin instead. Where is he?”

“Listen, I’m sorry I’m not the man you wanted me to be when we woke up, but please don’t spread tales around town. It will only make you look foolish.”

She held her tongue, and after a few seconds, she nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Yesterday was a very bad day.”

He approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about your husband. I don’t mean to be such a bastard. My head hurts a little.”

* * * *

Maggie stared at him for a long moment. Had he finally convinced her he was Wyatt? Funny thing to have this intriguing woman able to tell them apart. Because he smelled different.

With her unwavering gaze caressing him, if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was interested, but likely it was just that wanting-to–feel-alive sensation a person got after someone they loved died. He’d felt it more than once in his life. Didn’t matter who died, the overwhelming desire to live always socked him in the gut. The urge to be as close as possible to someone—anyone—was a powerful motivation for human contact and often demanded action. She looked like she needed action.

Wade opened his arms wide, and she fell into them. She grasped him tightly to her lovely body. He hugged her close and whispered nonsensical things to assure her she was all right, she was alive, and she wasn’t all alone. He wondered briefly if Wyatt had offered any consolation last night and to what extent. Wade wished his brother had explained more about this delectable female.

* * * *

“What
do
you remember about last night?” Maggie had lovely memories about the time they’d spent together. Did he remember what happened between them before she fell asleep or was that why he’d been drinking?

“I remember the whiskey.”

“Do you remember the kiss we shared?”

Maggie felt him stiffen in her arms and wished she could see his expression. She suspected he didn’t remember because she hadn’t kissed this man. She’d kissed his twin brother. She wondered why being twins was a secret.

“How could I forget?” His tone of voice was unconvincing. Maggie imagined that kissing him would be completely different.

“Will you kiss me again?”

He remained quiet for a long time before whispering, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He pulled himself away from her. “Because I have a full day and lots of work to do before I open my bar. I’ll accompany you to the hotel if you’d like, but then I have to take care of my own life.”

Maggie secured her hands against his chest and sent her gaze to his eyes. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Thank you for everything. I don’t mean to be difficult.”

He stared at her for a long time before his eyes narrowed slightly. “I hope you don’t feel like I took advantage of you last night.”

“No. I said so last night. You don’t remember me telling you that?”

He shrugged and grinned. “Whiskey makes me forgetful.”

“Are you going to use whiskey as an excuse for every question?”

“Maybe. How many more questions do you have?” He narrowed his gaze and stared deeply into her eyes.

Why was she being so obstinate? This man, or maybe two different men, had housed her when she didn’t have a place to go. She should be grateful.

Maggie cast her eyes downward and away from his piercing regard. Whether or not this was Wyatt, he had the same impact on her. Lustful. She lusted after both of them and since that had gotten her into such trouble back home, she forcefully retreated.

She took a step backward and away from his unique but equally engaging scent. “Thank you for the room…” She paused remembering the intimacy and decided not to remind him of it. “And for the beverage last night. How much do I owe you?”

His gaze went to the small reticule she held in one hand. “Nothing.”

“Please. I can pay you.”

He shook his head. “Just do me a favor and don’t spread tales about me being two men. I don’t want you to get a crazy reputation in town.”

Maggie pondered that information for a moment, wondering why he was so worried about her looking crazy, but she nodded. “Of course, I must be mistaken.”

“The hotel is at the other end of town on the opposite side of the street. You can’t miss it.”

Maggie opened her mouth to remind him that she’d been to the hotel last night and had told him so, but decided not to mention it. Whatever his secrets, he was entitled to them, and she was too indebted to make an issue of it. Instead, she cleared her throat and forced herself to say, “Thank you.”

They walked over to the door she’d entered the night before. He undid the locks and opened one side enough for her to slip through. He followed her to the church without once ever touching her. A pity. Once at the church, he offered to keep her bags at his saloon so they wouldn’t have to carry them all the way to the other side of town.

“Best of luck to you.” He paused and caught her eye. “And I’m really sorry about your husband dying yesterday.”

Maggie nodded and walked away. The wooden planks squeaked as she walked along toward an uncertain future. She ignored the feeling that she was leaving someone important behind. Wyatt, or whoever let her out of the saloon this morning, also intrigued her. As had the man from the night before. She wouldn’t soon forget either of them.

* * * *

The clerk at the hotel had the same sour expression on his face as he had the day before. Maggie formed a wide smile on her mouth and approached the wooden counter ready to be unwavering in her need for a place to stay.

“Hello, sir. I’d like to see about procuring a room for the week, please.” She widened her smile even though he hadn’t lifted his head.

“No vacancies.” He still didn’t look up.

“My dear sir, could you please do me the courtesy of looking at me when you speak?”

His head snapped up so fast he almost lost the surly expression on the way up. However, it had only shifted to anger.

“Whether I look at you or not, I still don’t have any rooms available.” His gaze moved from a full frontal assault to a casual once over from the bonnet she wore to her hands. The sneer that appeared made her think he wasn’t impressed. Likely she wouldn’t be either if she could see a mirror.

Calling up everything sweet from her soul was difficult, but she did it. “Do you think there might be one available later on today? I could wait.”

His thin shoulders lifted quickly and dropped. “I’m not a fortuneteller, madam. How would I know that?”

“Perhaps if you stopped acting like such a tight-assed little toad and looked in your ledger, you might see if anyone is scheduled to leave today.” Maggie regretted her acerbic tone and the words that slipped out in her fit of anger. She clamped her lips together tightly to ensure no more displeasure escaped.

The clerk went from angry to furious in the space of time it took for her to draw another breath. “Step away from this counter, madam. There are no rooms available for you.”

“I apologize, sir.” She didn’t mean it, but desperate circumstances called for a little bit of prevarication. “My husband passed away yesterday, and I find I’m not myself today.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you the one they kicked off the wagon train?” The nasty insinuation showed clearly in the small curve upward at each corner of his thin, cracked lips. His eyes widened as if he contemplated hearing some juicy gossip firsthand.

She wondered how on earth this unpleasant man knew this information. Had her life story already been spread around town? Maggie had a flash of inspiration and remembered the callous women on the wagon train she’d traveled with these past months. Perhaps they also talked behind her back at every town they stopped at.

Maggie sucked in another sharp breath. “I…well, not exactly kicked off, but I was unable to continue without my husband. I need a place to stay until I can make arrangements to go back home.”

The clerk inhaled deeply, dropped his gaze, and searched through his ledger, flipping pages every couple of seconds. Maggie waited patiently, trying not to chew the inside of her lip.

He suddenly slammed the book shut and looked up. “I’m sorry. We don’t have anything for vagabonds or wagon train riff-raff.”

Maggie fisted one hand. Before she could pop the jackass in the nose, a garishly dressed woman stepped up to the counter. She had hair the color of flames done up in a complicated arrangement, a buxom figure most women likely envied and wore lots of make up on her wide face. “Give her a room, Percy, or I’ll tell the management here about
our
little arrangement.”

The clerk’s face drained of color. “But I don’t have any rooms available.”