Forever Love Page 2

  Like an unlucky penny you couldn’t get rid of, Hank Beaumont walked through the door. Her heart sped up.

  “Mornin’, Miz Ashbury.” He inclined his head respectfully.

  His lazy drawl had her stomach all aflutter. It had absolutely nothing to do with the sound of his deep voice. No, surely it was just the flapjacks she’d eaten for breakfast. She never should’ve had the second one.

  “Everything go well at breakfast this mornin’?” He leaned against the counter, propped his elbow atop the registration book and rested his chin on the back of his hand. His dazzling smile revealed perfectly white teeth.

  All right, so the man took care of his teeth better than most she’d seen since coming out West. Maybe he even had one of the newest bone toothbrushes with hog bristles like she’d brought with her from the East. Surely that wasn’t reason enough for her to—

  “Miz Ashbury.” He waved his hand in front of her face, his smile widening.

  Mercy, she’d been staring. Miss DuPree, her former headmistress from Miss DuPree’s School for Proper Young Ladies, would surely lecture her for such common behavior. Ladies did not stare. Especially at men of low moral character who kept ladies-of-the-night at their place of employment.

  Definitely not at one who made her forget everything when in his presence.

  “Pardon me, Mister Beaumont. I fear I’m not quite myself this morning. It must be something I ate.” Curse the man. He was still smiling.

  “Speakin’ of food, I need to let you know the hotel’s cook, Miz Hasselhoff, told me this mornin’ her sister’s about to have her baby. I said she could go tend her and we’d see her whenever she got back. She feels right bad about it, but figures she might be gone quite a while.”

  Jessica, straightening a few things on the counter, quickly glanced up. “Who will cook for the hotel’s restaurant?”

  “Why…you darlin’.”

  “How dare you call me darling?” She huffed frustration that he take such liberties. Even though the twinkle in his eyes said he did it apurpose. “I’ll have you know—”

  “Many hotel owners do their own cookin’,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.

  Jessica stood there, closed her mouth as soon as she realized it was open. “But I—”

  “You do know how to cook, don’t you, darlin’?” His look challenged her to object again.

  “Well...” She bit her lip, unsure what to say. “No.”

  Hank crossed his arms and arched a brow. “How’d you cook for your husband?”

  She turned up her hands, feeling as if he thought this a shortcoming in her. “I never learned to cook. Geoffrey and I… we had servants that took care of that.”

  “Servants that fixed your grub?” The blue eyes bore into her.

  She nodded. Never before had anyone made her feel inferior for having a higher station in life. His reaction was unreasonable. Insufferable man!

  “As in more than one?” His tone sounded disapproving.

  “Yes,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “I suppose you never lifted a finger to clean either.” He took in her appearance. He cursed out loud and obviously had no intention of apologizing for doing it. “What was your man thinkin’ to bring you out here?” He glanced at the black ribbon tied around her arm in memory of him. To her surprise, he’d offered to loan her money to buy material for a black mourning dress, but she’d quickly informed him that wouldn’t be proper. After all, she wasn’t about to be beholden to this man. She had her pride, and she’d make do with the clothes she had, alternating between wearing the ribbon and two dresses she’d tried dying black. Seeing him look at the ribbon brought her memories flooding back.

  Now he frowned again. He always seemed to frown around her. “From what little you told me on our way back to the stagecoach, he didn’t even teach you how to shoot a gun before you came out here.”

  That did it! He’d done nothing but find fault with her since she’d arrived. She’d had enough. Her shame at not being able to cook turned to ire. He had no right to humiliate her. She rounded on him. “Geoffrey brought me here because he thought it would be a new beginning for us. He’d had some setbacks in the banking business, and when Father died Geoffrey lost…” She stopped. She’d almost revealed too much. This man thought little enough of her now. If he knew she’d been responsible for Geoffrey losing his job, the intolerable man would probably hogtie her and place her on the next stage East.

  “He thought he’d come here and play at being a hotel manager? This is the West, Miz Ashbury. You don’t play out here. You make it—or you don’t. It’s a hard life. Certainly no place for the likes of—”

  “Me?” Angry, she walked around the counter and faced him toe-to-toe. She narrowed her eyes as she glared into a pair of clear blue eyes. Eyes that looked as irritated as she felt. Yet, oddly, there was a flicker of something else in those startling orbs, though she couldn’t begin to tell what. It caused her stomach to do a slow roll. Even so, she wasn’t backing down. “Is that what you were going to say, Mister Beaumont?”

  She poked a well-manicured finger in his chest. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I can do anything I set my mind to. Geoffrey always said I was the most determined woman he’d ever met.”

  Hank believed every word. Dadblast it if she wasn’t beautiful when riled. And he had no doubt she was one strong-willed woman. Maybe stronger than he first gave her credit for.

  Her brown eyes blazed with anger. Brown eyes that reminded him of the chocolate he’d tasted over at Guth’s General Store. Chocolate that tasted slightly bitter, slightly sweet. Just as he imagined Jessica Ashbury would taste if he lowered his mouth to hers right now. Bitter from anger, and sweet from the essence of her. Oh yes, he wanted to taste her. Only she was a widow, and she didn’t belong here. Didn’t belong to him. And that’s what stuck in his craw. He sure didn’t want to give her the money back from the down payment, but if that’s what it took to get her packing and on the next stagecoach back to Boston, that’s what he’d do.

  Before he lost his mind. Before he did what he had no business doing and kissed her senseless. His thoughts were broken by Valicia Bishop who stood on a step halfway down the staircase.

  “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt, but did I hear you say Missus Hasselhoff, your cook, has to be out of town for a while?”

  Shifting his eyes from Valicia back to Jessica, Hank said, “Yup, she headed out of town ‘bout an hour ago.”

  “I can cook,” Valicia offered.

  Hank and Jessica said in unison, “You can?”

  “Yes. Before my husband passed away, we ran a stagecoach relay station on the Cimarron Cutoff. After Joshua died, I wanted to keep the station, but the stage line wouldn’t let me. They were kind about it, but insisted it wasn’t safe for a woman alone with a child. I thought to head to a new town, see if I could work in a millinery shop or something. I’m a good seamstress, too. I owe you both for letting me stay here while my Molly gets better. I’d be mighty obliged if you let me help by cooking.”

  “Who’d watch Molly?” Hank wanted to know.

  “I would,” Jessica rushed to say. “Thank you, Valicia. I’d be honored if you’d help in the restaurant.”

  “See here now…” Hank began.

  “Mister Beaumont, surely you can’t object to my saying Missus Bishop can help with the cooking.” She gave an exasperated sigh.

  “I own—” He raised a brow as she interrupted him.

  “Half the hotel, Mister Beaumont. I own the other half…and my half says we hire Missus Bishop.”

  Hank rounded on her. “That’s not how it works. I still make the decisions here.”

  She stomped her foot. “You most certainly do not. Partners discuss things.”

  Anger flared in her beautiful brown eyes again. Mercy, he might have to rile her more often just to see those sparks fly. Would her kisses be just as passionate? Whoa! He’d best stop that line of thought right there. She was his busines
s partner, nothing more. It was all she could ever be.

  “All right, we’ll talk about it—then I’ll make the decision.”

  “We’ll talk about it and then we’ll make the decision together.” She stood her ground, never taking her eyes from his.

  She was beautiful. Her eyes blazed at him, but the rest of her looked soft, vulnerable. He wanted to draw her into his arms. Wanted to pull the ribbon out of her hair and let it cascade down her back. Wanted to run his fingers through those dark brown tresses and crush his mouth to hers.

  Instead, he merely nodded in surrender.

  “You agree?” Her tone sounded incredulous.

  “Yes, I agree.”

  “And Missus Bishop?” She turned to look up at Valicia, who still stood on the steps.

  “Starts cooking today for our evening crowd.”

  Valicia rushed the remaining distance down the stairs. “Thank you both so much. I won’t let you down. I promise. My Joshua said I was the best cook he’d ever known.”

  * * * *

  A month later, Hank stood behind the bar watching the flurry of activity. Same as every night, some drank at the bar, some played cards, and others socialized with the girls. He’d spent most of his life here except for the brief stint he’d spent in the Army fighting stragglers who’d refused to give up the fight after the Civil War. For the most part, he liked what he did, and he’d certainly never been lonely―not with his girls around. With his ma owning the hotel and saloon, he’d been educated to the ways of men and women at a very young age.

  In her day, his grandmother had been a madam here. Evangeline—Angel to her friends—had stolen the heart of most every man in town. That she’d captured and held the heart of Beauregard Beaumont was a legend in itself. They’d never married, but soon after Beau had bought the saloon, it became clear to one and all that Angel was his even though she refused to marry him. She’d left the saloon and never set foot in it again, taking over the hotel instead. When she’d borne Beau’s children, he’d insisted they carry his name.

  The preacher had repeatedly tried to convert her. Had tried to get her to come to church every Sunday. Though to the best of Hank’s knowledge his grandmother had never set foot in the church, she’d taught him about God.

  She’d told him God was everywhere. She taught him to see the beauty of his surroundings. To this day, he never traveled anywhere without truly looking at nature. God had created it all.

  Most of all, she’d taught him how much God loved him. And that He’d sent His son Jesus to die for his sins. Even after all she’d taught him, he’d sure had a passel of those! But she made sure he was in church every Sunday. And baked pies for him to take whenever there was a church sociable.

  Never once in his youth had he thought that odd. To this day, he believed every word she’d told him. Which was part of the reason why he wanted to make changes in his life. He just hadn’t planned on the likes of someone like Jessica Ashbury coming into it.

  A portrait of Beau and Angel hung in the hotel lobby. Jessica wanted to replace it with a painting she was having shipped from Boston. Beau and Angel weren’t going to like that. When Beau had added the hotel onto the saloon, he’d made it the most respected in the area. And Angel had made certain everything about it was perfect. Beau had believed in the area’s growth even back then. Hank doubted Beau could have imagined what the town had grown to. Redrock City was one of the most bustling towns of the growing West.

  Hank had often thought of leaving and going farther west. Still did once in awhile. But for what? He liked it here. He really did. The saloon had always been home. He’d never wanted anything else. Like a house with windows and lacy curtains. But now… He just didn’t know anymore.

  Some people liked him, others didn’t. He cared little. That he’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket had never bothered him. He had his saloon. He’d never needed anything else before.

  Until now.

  * * * *

  He’d walked next door that afternoon to check on Miz Ashbury, see if she needed any help with anything in the hotel. She’d mentioned wanting to start decorating for the approaching holidays. Just like a woman to want to change a perfectly good lobby.

  He’d stopped short when he saw her—Jessica—having afternoon tea with Andrew Kingsbury, the barber. His best friend. He’d wanted to plant his fist in Drew’s face. What was she doing having tea with a man she scarcely knew? Her husband barely dead and buried in the ground and she was cavorting with a stranger. All right, maybe not quite cavorting. She certainly had a right to talk to customers, even sit down and share some tea with them. But she’d smiled at Drew while they talked. Smiled at him—like Hank wanted her to smile at him. All she ever did with him was frown.

  Of course, he did always antagonize her. So he guessed it was only normal. But he had to get her to leave town and go back to Boston where she belonged, even if it made him miserable never to see her again.

  He’d be more than miserable if he saw her with another man. What was he going to do?

  “Hey, Hank! You’re not payin’ attention, pardner. Said I wanted a beer.” Andrew Kingsbury stood on the other side of the well-polished cherry wood bar.

  Yup, he still wanted to plant his fist in the man’s face. Instead, Hank set down the cloth he’d been cleaning the bar with and drew him a mug of beer. “Thought I saw you in the hotel earlier today. You close down shop early?” He set the mug in front of Drew, then reached beneath the bar to grab the stock order he’d been working on. Anything to distract him from what he felt after seeing Jessica with Andrew.

  “Naw, just took a short break.”

  “Any particular reason?” He leveled his gaze at his friend.

  Andrew looked up. “I was thirsty, thought I’d have a bit of tea.”

  Hank guffawed. “Tea? Since when did you start drinking tea?”

  “Since that’s what Miz Jessica had available in the dining room this afternoon. Said she’d have cider tomorrow,” Andrew informed him smugly.

  Hank narrowed his eyes. “Tomorrow?”

  “I invited her to go ice skating by the old pond outside of town tomorrow if the ice is safe enough. She turned me down flat, of course, but I did finally talk her into letting me show her the countryside. If she’s going to stay here, I convinced her it’s only fair she knows all about the town she lives in.”

  “You invited her…you invited her…” He snatched Andrew by the collar of his shirt and almost yanked him over the bar. “You invited her to go ice skating? The woman just lost her husband! She’s not available.”

  Andrew jerked away and straightened his shirt, eying Hank warily. “What the...? What’s the matter with you? It’s not a date. I’m just showing her around.”

  “You lay one hand on Miz Ashbury and I’ll break you clean in two.” He picked up the towel from the bar to clean some glasses, threw it right back down.

  Andrew’s jaw dropped. “Well, I’ll be darned.”

  Hank was in no mood for games. “What?”

  “You want her for yourself.” Andrew tilted his head.

  “Don’t be ridiculous—she’s my partner. Nothing more.” Hank turned around to fetch two mugs from the shelves behind him when two drovers entered the bar. When they indicated their order, he drew two ales and took them to the end of the bar before returning to Andrew.

  “I’ve known you since we were knee-high to a grasshopper, old buddy. You’ve never acted like this. Not even with Becky Witherspoon before she and her pa moved away.” Andrew reached up and moved his hand over his jaw.

  “I don’t want to talk about Becky.”

  “No, I’m sure you don’t. Just like I’ll bet you all of a sudden don’t want to talk about Jessica Ashbury.” Biting off the end of a cigar and spitting it into the nearest spittoon, Andrew followed Hank’s every move as he continued serving patrons.

  Hank returned and glared at Andrew before drawing a deep breath and saying, “She doesn’t belong here, A
ndrew. She needs to go back to Boston.”

  Andrew shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong, Hank. She’s available. Granted she’s in mourning right now—I thought she’d never stop crying when they buried the man—but her husband’s dead. She’s too young and far too pretty to stay alone for long. If someone in town don’t sweep her off her feet, someone from the trail will claim her and take her back with them to set up a holding somewhere.”

  Hank leaned forward, locking eyes with the barber. “Drew, I said she’s not available. She’s as unavailable as they come. Cancel your outing.”

  Downing the last of his drink, Andrew set the mug on the bar. “No, pardner, I don’t think so. I plan on keeping my engagement with Miz Ashbury. And I intend to enjoy every minute of it.” Not looking back, he crossed the room and pushed open the saloon doors, leaving them swinging in his wake.

  ~3~

  Three hours. That’s how long Jessica Ashbury had been gone. Hank didn’t need to pull out his pocket watch. He could tell from the position of the sun how much time had passed. Not that he was counting. He merely stood outside his saloon smoking his cigarette while scanning the town with careful eyes, watching people move about. Redrock was a bustling town—had a mercantile, a millinery shop, undertaker, feed store. Just about anything anyone wanted could be found in town. And here he stood enjoying the good weather—thermometer said it was almost thirty-two degrees. Strangers passing through were in town. It wouldn’t be long before snow prevented travel, but for now business was good. Already some men were inside spending their newly earned wages. He heard them calling out orders to old Sam.

  Who was he kidding? He was freezing, and he was watching for Jessica to return to town. Blast it, he’d already rolled and smoked six cigarettes. He should be inside helping Sam tend bar, not outside mooning over some irritating woman. He didn’t move.

  The fact he knew how much Jessica hated his smoking made him enjoy the smoke all the more. Instead he took out the makings and rolled another smoke.

  Doc rushed by heading to the hotel.