~ * ~
The next morning dawned bright and clear with a few scattered clouds promising cooler temperatures. After dressing for the day and putting away the breakfast dishes, Melissa descended the stairs into the store. Masculine voices laughed and chattered amiably below.
Marcus was already there talking with her father as they stood near the rear door of the shop. Casually slung over his shoulder was a sack of oats. Melissa knew it had to weigh at least fifty pounds, and he held it as if it were light as a feather.
“Ah, Lissa,” Chuck said. “Good morning, dear. Where’s Shirley?”
Giving her father a peck on the cheek, Melissa blushed as she gazed up at Marcus. He looked good this morning--wonderful. More handsome than a man had a right to be. His dark hair was clean and thick, curling a bit around his ears and neck. She realized he’d probably cleaned up at the inn. After their interlude in the livery stable the day before, she’d avoided him and never had brought him the water she’d offered.
A pair of blue jeans encased his legs, and a clean but dingy white shirt was already clinging to his chest from his early-morning exertions. He’d rolled up the long sleeves to his elbows, revealing tanned, powerful arms. It was all Melissa could do not to gawk. He wasn’t wearing his guns today, making her sigh with relief although she didn’t know why. Marcus just seemed less dangerous without them.
Turning her attention back to her father, she smiled. “You know how Shirley is. She’ll be up there for at least another hour staring at herself in the mirror.”
Unexpectedly, Marcus laughed heartily as he moved to set down the sack of oats in the corner with ease. Melissa bit her lower lip, blushing while clasping her hands in front of her.
“You must excuse my daughters, Mr. McCaide.” Chuck scowled with humor in his eyes. “They simply can’t resist the occasional dig against each other.”
Marcus nodded, crossing his arms in front of him. His eyes still twinkled as he gazed at Melissa with a wide grin. “Remind me never to get on their bad side.”
Slapping him on the shoulder, Chuck laughed. “Smart man.”
Melissa couldn’t stand being the object of their scrutiny any longer, so she scurried away to unlock the front door for the day’s customers.
“Lissa?”
“Yes, Father?” she answered, turning back to them.
“Why don’t you show Mr. McCaide here the ropes? Give him the tour around the shop, tell him where we stock things and maybe even show him around town. Get him situated here.”
“But…”
“Don’t worry about me. I have Shirley to help out around the shop.”
Melissa knew it would be useless to argue further. Chuck Bloom was used to getting his way, and his expression told her he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer.
Sighing, she nodded and gestured for Marcus to follow. Walking up and down the aisles in the store, she droned on about the different goods they had available, from chicken feed and oats to flour and beans. Once the tour inside was complete, she led him outside and showed him the water pump behind the store and the bucket she used to fill the trough in the mornings.
“You mean to tell me you fill the trough by yourself every morning?” Marcus asked as he took the bucket from her hands.
“Well, yes. My father can’t do it due to his aching joints, and God forbid my sister should get a callus on her perfect hands.”
A slow grin spread across his face as he bent to pump the water into the bucket. “Is she really so dainty?”
Melissa scowled darkly and turned away from him. Having him follow her silently in the store was preferable to talking to him about Shirley. “She’d like to think she is. She loves to be pampered.”
“So you pamper her?” His chuckle grated on her nerves as he walked past her around to the front of the shop with bucket in hand. Tilting it up, he let the water splash inside the trough.
“No, I don’t pamper her.”
“But you’re the one filling the trough and sweeping the walk every day, aren’t you?”
Silence was his answer.
“Well, aren’t you?” He walked back to the pump to fill the bucket once more.
Melissa followed him. “Yes, but if I didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done. There’s a difference between pampering someone and getting the job done.”
“Is there?” His golden eyes looked up at her, pinning her to the spot. “Shirley doesn’t do it because she knows you will. What do you think would happen if you refused to do things any longer?”
“I think my father’s reputation as a sanitary store owner would be in question.”
“I don’t think so.” Walking past her with a full bucket of water, he made his way back to the trough. “I think your father is a formidable man. He’s nice enough, but it seems like he’d about rain all hell down on anyone who crossed him.”
Melissa had to agree with that. It was rare that her father ever unleashed his temper on his daughters, but when he did, Shirley always cried and did his bidding until he stopped his diatribe.
“So you’re suggesting I make Shirley come out here every morning and pump the water?”
“Yup.” Standing from the trough, he ran his fingers through his hair and winked at her before passing her once again. Her heart skipped a beat, and she had to swallow a few times to rid her throat of a sudden lump.
“But… I’m not sure she could even lift it.” Melissa had to trot after Marcus to keep up with his long strides.
“Does it matter?” he asked. “Listen, Lissa. Your sister is being pampered by both you and your father whether you want to admit it or not. The mere fact that you both are doing things for her and indulging her when she whines is simply teaching her to sit on her backside all day long. You can’t be resentful of her laziness when you are part of the problem.”
Melissa stared at his back as Marcus drifted past her for his final dump into the trough, but she didn’t follow him this time. Part of the problem? Her? Did he think she waited on Shirley hand and foot? The audacity of the man! She simply did things so they would get done. She’d have better luck wishing for the broom itself to come to life before Shirley would ever think to sweep the floor.
“What’s next?” Marcus stood before her, smiling gently as both hands rested on his lean hips.
He expected her to show him the sights after talking to her as he just had?
“I’m sorry, Mr. McCaide, but I think I should go help my father in the store.”
Turning to walk back to the rear door of the shop, she was stopped by a strong hand on her shoulder. “Now wait just a minute, Lissa.”
She couldn’t help but shiver as he said her name, but she was so angry she didn’t bother turning around.
“You’re upset.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Furious would be a better word,” she said through her teeth.
“Look, I’m just saying that you should make Shirley do some things. She’s gotta learn that you’re not always going to be there for the rest of her life. Someday she’s going to settle down and have a family of her own. Who’s going to sweep her floors then or take care of her children? Shirley needs to learn some responsibility, that’s all I was saying.”
Biting her lip, Melissa finally turned and sighed.
“I meant no offense,” he said.
How could she stay mad at him when he looked at her like that? He reminded her of a lost puppy when his eyebrows knitted together in concern. Once that thought crossed her mind, she couldn’t keep herself from smiling.
Marcus grinned in response, tapping her nose. “There’s my smile. You still going to show me around?”
Now she blushed. How could this man take her through so many different emotions at the drop of a hat? If she weren’t careful, she just might swoon.
Four
“My sister is going to ask you to the Patricks’ barn dance in a couple of weeks.”
Melissa laughed as Marcus coughed and sputtered the cool water he’d been drinking. They’d returned from their tour of Gideon’s Gulch in just under an hour, seeing the rest of the livery stables as well as the bank and local saloon. A few of the folks out and about had tipped their hats or nodded their heads, and some had even stopped to make friendly conversation. Marcus and his good looks seemed to charm most of the ladies who gave Melissa envious glances.
She’d blushed quite a lot that morning, knowing most people assumed Marcus was her new beau--and after the embarrassing encounter with Widow Skaggs, Melissa was convinced her skin would be permanently stained red. The older woman congratulated them up and down, shaking their hands and asking how they’d met, when the wedding was, and how Melissa’s father felt about such a whirlwind courtship. Despite their claims to the contrary, Mrs. Skaggs hadn’t seemed to hear them and had simply nodded with a grin. With a hasty goodbye, Melissa and Marcus had trotted down the boardwalk giggling up a storm.
Now they stood back at the water pump behind the Blooms’ General Store, each taking long sips of the cool water.
“What do you mean your sister is asking me to a dance? She’s barely known me for more than a day!”
Melissa bit her lips in an effort to keep from smiling. “That doesn’t matter, Marcus. She’s quite taken with you.”
Splashing some water on his face, he looked up and squinted at her in the bright sunlight. Droplets of water pooled on his chin and fell to the ground. Melissa suddenly had the urge to lick them off.
Dear Lord, where had
that
thought come from?
“Well, I’ll just have to tell her I’m not interested,” Marcus said. “I don’t dance much.”
“I doubt she’ll be taking no for an answer.”
“She’ll be taking no from me.”
“Shirley is pretty tenacious when she wants to be. She’s looking for the perfect man.”
“The perfect man for what?” Wiping his face with his palm, he flung the rest of the droplets to the ground.
“For a husband.” Melissa bent to drink from the pump.
Marcus laughed at that, throwing back his head and slapping his knee. “Ah, sugar, that’s the funniest damn thing I’ve heard all day.”
Melissa choked in mid-swallow but managed to say, “Why is that funny?”
“I’m not the marrying kind.”
“Why not?” Standing with her hands on her hips, she stared at him.
“You don’t wanna know.”
“What if I do?”
“Wouldn’t matter.”
“Does it have to do with your guns?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Marcus’s look darkened as he crossed his arms.
“What if it did?” he asked.
“A lot of men wear guns. Cowboys,
sheriffs
--
”
“Outlaws,” he interrupted.
Melissa gasped. “You’re an outlaw?” Her eyes were wide and she took an involuntary step backward.
“I’m not wanted, if that’s what you mean.” He stepped closer. “But I have killed some folk.”
“You? But you’re so nice.”
“I’m not always nice, sugar.”
That nickname made her heart flutter wildly in her chest as she struggled to breathe. But looking into his golden eyes, she could see he spoke the truth. Something fierce and ruthless was behind them just now. She knew she should turn away, go inside and stop talking about his past, but his gaze held her rooted to the spot.