Western Future (Copper Kings Book 3) Page 2

  He waved away her worry. “I can get a room tonight.”

  She bit her lip and shook her head. “I’m afraid not. There’s no one manning the desk at this hour.”

  “I beg your pardon?” He couldn’t fathom such a thing. Then again, he’d never been anywhere quite this rustic.

  She seemed to understand and nodded. “Unfortunately, I can’t go home either. It isn’t safe this late.” She bit her lip. “I have an extra set of sheets. I can change the bed and then sleep on the couch.”

  It wasn’t proper at all, and he knew it would raise the eyebrows of more than one matron if they ever heard they’d stayed under the same roof. Alone. “Absolutely not. If anyone is sleeping on the couch, it’s me.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh no. I couldn’t do that. It’s only right for me to take the couch. It is, after all, your lodging.”

  He raised a brow. “Even if this were proper and you were staying with me for some reason other than this, I would still insist on you taking the bed. Besides, I don’t imagine the couch is very comfortable.”

  She winced and then nodded. “It’s not a bed by any means, but it’s sufficient. I’m afraid you won’t have a restful night there.”

  “After several nights on a train, one more unpleasant night won’t be a problem.”

  He could see her softening, and he homed in on the weakness. “I bet the padding is better than anything in the passenger cars.” He gave a false shudder and felt his heart lighten with her laugh.

  Amusement gleamed in her eyes. “I didn’t sleep hardly a wink on my trip West. So I understand completely.” She sighed. “I really am sorry. Had I known you were coming early, I would’ve never stayed so late.”

  He waved off her concern. It was his own fault for not notifying her. It was just one of those things that happened. Fate. Coincidence. He didn’t know which it was, but he accepted it. “Why don’t you show me the couch? With any luck, there’s an extra pillow and we can both fall asleep quickly. Morning is going to come all too soon.”

  She snorted as if she knew the truth of that all too well. She turned around and crooked a finger for him to follow her.

  He knew she hadn’t meant anything seductive by it, but for some reason, as he trailed her up the stairs, doing his best to keep his eyes on her back and not anything lower, he realized she affected him much more than he was used to.

  She was beautiful, but in a wild, unclassical way. Society darlings had never interested him, and this woman’s unconventional looks appealed to him more than any had in a long time.

  She’s married, he reminded himself, but then he realized he’d never got her name. “What is your name?”

  She reached the top and turned to face him as he took the last few steps. “Oh. Forgive me. I’m Charlotte Hayer.”

  Charlotte Hayer? Why did that name sound so familiar? He glanced around the Spartan furnishing of the sitting area, noting a door that let outside. It would be convenient not having to walk through the bakery.

  He glanced across the room at the open door, the unmade bed dimly lit. “Is your husband in there?”

  Charlotte guffawed, and she looked at him with wide eyes. “Husband?” She shook her head with a bemused expression. “There is no husband.”

  “No husband?” He didn’t appreciate how that knowledge affected him. This woman was unattached and available, and that shouldn’t appeal to him nearly as much as it did. He squashed the interest rising within. He neither had time for, nor did he want, a woman in his life. And one like Miss Hayer—sweet, innocent, and delicate: the type who’d always lured him—would only be trouble.

  “Forgive me for the mistake. Female-run businesses are rare. Unless you have a male partner?” She folded her arms across her chest and frowned. Ah. So she was sensitive about that.

  “I am quite capable of running things on my own.”

  He was fascinated how her annoyance changed her features. He should have found her displeasure unattractive, but, strangely, he liked it. What was it about this small woman that intrigued him so? “Well then, let me congratulate you on such a well-run establishment.”

  Her hands dropped. “I beg your pardon?”

  He pointed down the stairs. “I can tell you take great pride in the place. It's clean as a whistle, you’ve kept up on repairs, and you’re working hard. That’s the recipe for success.” Although, if she wanted even more success, she would have to get outside help, but he wouldn’t suggest it a second time. “On top of that, your wares smell delicious.” At that moment, his stomach took the opportunity to grumble loudly. He inwardly sighed.

  Her eyes widened, surprising him. “You’re hungry?” she asked, stepping forward with a hand raised as if she would touch him. But she must have realized how inappropriate that was because she stopped and lowered her hand. “If you’d like, I can bring you a few muffins. I wish I could offer more, but that is probably the most nourishing thing I have on hand. I don’t make bread until morning.”

  “That would be appreciated, thank you. I was caught up with something in the mine and wasn’t able to get away for dinner.” His stomach grumbled again. “Perhaps a few cookies, as well?” he asked. He was entranced by the soft chuckle escaping her lips.

  “I think I could scrounge up a few.” Her eyes twinkled in the soft light. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I fetch a pillow and your food. You must be exhausted.”

  He nodded appreciatively. Now that everything was settled, he felt completely worn out. “Thank you.”

  Before he could make it over to the sofa, she was already back with a pillow from the bedroom. “I hope this is all right.”

  Anything would be appreciated at this point. He nodded gratefully and took it. As she turned toward the steps, her scent lingered in the air, and it was then he realized it was also coming from the pillow.

  He brought it close to his face, inhaling deeply of her cinnamon and sugar scent. Had she been sleeping on this one? The intimacy of it speared him, and it took all his willpower to lower the pillow to his lap. He wanted to bask in her scent a little longer but flatly refused. He had no intention of getting involved with anyone, no matter how beautiful they were or how amazing they smelled.

  He was here to do a job, and he needed to focus on that until it was time to move on.

  Chapter 2

  Charlotte punched the dough she was kneading a little too hard, deflating the air bubble. It was still early, but the sun was beginning to rise. She’d have to keep going at full speed to have everything ready by opening.

  But she’d make it. She knew she would.

  A little thrill wove through her as she thought of how the day would proceed, wondering how her customers would feel about her new offerings. If they took to the new treats like they had the sandwiches she’d added two days ago, things would go well indeed.

  But even as she tried to focus on her customers and her business, her mind kept trailing to the man sleeping upstairs. With him there, she’d hardly slept a wink. She wasn’t worried he would try anything untoward, but having a man so near—a strange, handsome man—wasn’t conducive to a good night’s rest.

  She gave the dough a quarter turn and continued to knead, aware she needed to stop beating the loaf or it wouldn’t be fit for sale.

  She’d been terrified when Mr. Blackgate had shown up in the dark like some avenging angel. She rolled her eyes just thinking of the way she’d threatened him with a cooking spoon. He must have thought she was mad. What had she expected her paltry weapon to do? Leave enough welt marks to render him unconscious?

  She was grateful she didn’t have to use it at all. Maximus Blackgate wasn’t anything like she’d imagined he would be. She knew he was a Copper King, knew he was beyond wealthy, but she imagined he’d be more like Mr. Eversley. Smooth, polished, refined. But he didn’t appear to be any of those things.

  He was rougher, earthier, and had an appeal that far surpassed the smooth fops she’d seen driving in their fine
carriages. Mr. Blackgate was built like the miners around town, with rough, thick muscles. His dark brown hair was wavy, a bit too long, and matched his eyes to perfection.

  She knew he must have been clean-shaven earlier in the day, but with it being so late, there’d been a dark scruff she found more appealing than she should. The man was like a walking confection, and she didn’t mind admitting—at least to herself—that she wanted a sample.

  He was exactly the type of man she’d always been attracted to, but she didn’t entertain any delusions they might share anything more than a tenant and landlord relationship.

  It wasn’t as if she were some heiress or a beauty he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of. She blew a quick breath toward a curl that had come loose, hoping to swing it out of view. Case in point.

  She would never be a polished lady, and frankly, she never wanted to be. She’d slowly wither away if she had to endure such tepid, false society.

  Nope. Give her flour and sugar, and she would create things that brought people happiness.

  Maximus Blackgate wasn’t for her, but she was grateful to him for one thing: last night had shown her that she could find someone who wildly attracted her, who intrigued her, and who made her feel things she’d thought she couldn’t. And if she could feel those things for him, she could feel them for someone else. Someone more suitable. Someone she could share a home and family with.

  That man would never be a powerful, logic-driven, and wealthy Copper King.

  She finished with the dough, cutting a design on top before allowing it a few minutes more to rest.

  She heard heavy footsteps from the floor above her. Her stomach fluttered, and she pressed a flour-smeared hand to her apron, hoping to force the feeling down. She was nervous to see him again, and not only because she’d embarrassed herself the evening before. But she reminded herself for the millionth time that she couldn’t have foreseen his early arrival. Plus, she had every right to stay in the apartment above. It was her bakery, and his lease wasn’t official for a few more days.

  Still, it was embarrassing to be caught in his bed.

  With any luck, the feeling would fade, and they would form an easy, platonic, and boring relationship, politely greeting each other as they passed in the street.

  She could do that. She could be professional.

  It wasn’t exactly her nature, but she could manage. She was friendly and outgoing and enjoyed others, but she’d learned long ago that such behavior wasn’t appreciated by all. Mr. Blackgate didn’t seem the type to appreciate it either.

  She finished with the bread, popping several loaves into the oven just as she heard him come down the steps.

  She dusted her hands and sent him a smile. “Good morning.” Her smile felt a bit too bright, but she pushed through the awkwardness.

  He looked at her and gave her a small smile. “Morning.”

  His rough voice sent a shiver through her, and she turned away as if busy cleaning something. Polite and platonic. “I would ask how you slept, but then you’d tell me the truth.”

  He let out a soft laugh and stepped closer to her. “Well enough. The couch is more comfortable than it appears—if a little cramped.”

  He shrugged, and she could tell he didn’t mind the sleeping arrangement. In fact, it didn’t appear to have affected him at all. She couldn’t sense any embarrassment or awkwardness coming from him. And if he didn’t feel any, she was even more resolved to get over her own feelings. She turned back to her cleaning. “I’m glad to hear it. I’ll make sure the bed is made up with fresh sheets before opening so that, whenever you return, the place will be all yours.”

  “Thank you.” He stepped forward to look at the bread baking in the brick oven. “If you don’t have any spare time before opening though, don’t worry about it. I won’t be back until late again.”

  She wiped off her workspace with a frown. “Do you always work so much?” The question was far too personal and none of her business, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

  “Depends on the project, the schedule, and the needs of the operation. For the mine, the longer I take, the more money will be wasted. For something this size, the loss could be significant. I have an obligation to do everything I can as quickly as possible.”

  She nodded but wasn’t sure she completely agreed. True, waste was never a good thing, but did it mean you had to drive yourself into the ground just to save money? That would place money over health, and she couldn’t accept that. “Surely your partners can step in and take some of the burden.”

  He shook his head. “This is my responsibility. It’s why I’m here.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t comment further on the subject. But when she saw him eyeing her fresh peach tarts, she took the platter and turned toward him. “Would you like one?”

  Deep, dark eyes met hers, and a small smile bloomed on his face. “Absolutely.” He took two. “How much do I owe you?”

  She waved him away with her free hand and replaced the platter in the display cabinet. “It’s on the house.”

  “Thank you.” He took a healthy bite, and by the way he paused after the initial taste, she could tell he enjoyed it.

  She turned away before he could see her grin. “Would you like anything to take with you on the road?”

  “No. These are perfect.” He paused. “You know, I’ve been giving some thought to our conversation last night about increasing your profit. I highly recommend you hire someone. You have the perfect location,” he said, glancing out the window at the foot traffic which was already brisk regardless of the early hour. “And your wares are top notch. If you hire someone, you’ll be able to expand more quickly than you’d ever be able to on your own.”

  Part of her agreed with his assessment, but the other part of her, the more sentimental one, wasn’t ready to bring anyone on. This was her dream. And, at least for a little while, she wanted to keep it all to herself. She loved working in the quiet of the early morning, loved talking to customers and getting to know them as they came in to purchase a treat or sandwich. If there was someone else here, it would change the dynamic of it all.

  “Thank you for your advice.”

  “But you aren’t going to take it.” He shrugged after his direct words.

  “At this time, no. I might hire out to help with specific jobs, but I don’t like the idea of someone else in the shop, baking the inventory.”

  He took another bite of the tart, chewing thoughtfully. She thought he might be upset with her for refusing to follow his advice, but he surprised her. “I think you’re wise. You have a skill that can’t be learned when it comes to your creations, and having someone else making them, even with a written recipe, would hurt you in the long run. No. I don’t recommend someone baking for you, but I would advise getting help in the front. That way, you’d be available to bake after opening and replenish as you run out.”

  He was right. It was a brilliant strategy, and she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. However, if she hired someone for the front of the store, it meant she would lose the chance to interact with her customers. She would lose that special bond she’d come to love so much. “I’ll think about it.”

  He lifted his other pastry in a salute. “Thank you again. I’ll be off and out of your way now.”

  She offered him a friendly smile. “Have a wonderful day.”

  He paused, a bemused expression on his face. Then he nodded, a reluctant smile curving his lips. “I will,” he said before walking to the front of the shop, the sound of the door opening and closing marking his exit.

  She stood still for a moment, taking stock of what had just happened. Although she hadn’t meant it to, her goodbye had felt intimate. Like a wife wishing her husband off to work.

  She colored at the thought, hoping he hadn’t thought of it in that way. She didn’t need to appear any sillier than she must already.

  Besides, she reminded herself, Mr. Blackgate wasn’t someone she
could or should get involved with. He was handsome and intense, but he was also too logical for her tastes. She could appreciate that he was good at what he did, but he seemed to lack the ability to temper that logic with heart.

  He would never understand her decision not to hire someone, because logically, it didn’t make sense. That type of man could never appreciate her as a wife. She was messy and illogical and prone to silliness just for the joy of it.

  No. Mr. Blackgate wouldn’t do at all.

  * * *

  The front door chimed, and Charlotte glanced up with a smile on her face. “Welcome to—Lily!” Seeing her friend in the doorway, Charlotte hurried around the counter and gave her a big hug. “I didn’t know you were back!”

  “We just got in on the morning train.”

  Charlotte pulled away, taking in her newly married friend from head to toe. She had the same gently curling red hair flowing down her back, and, although her clothes were made of luxurious materials, they were simply cut and flattered her figure. She was happy to see that even though Lily had married into obscene wealth, she was still the same person Charlotte had come to know and love. “How was your honeymoon? Did you love San Francisco?”

  Lily’s bright blue eyes lit up. “It was even more beautiful than I imagined. Chase said he’d take me again as soon as possible.” She got a happy look as if she were remembering some moment in particular.

  Charlotte grinned. “It looks as though married life agrees with you.”

  A flush spread over Lily’s peaches-and-cream complexion, and she looked down shyly. “It does.”

  “I’m so happy for you.” Charlotte squeezed Lily’s hand. “So, what are your plans now? Any thoughts on where you’ll go?”

  “Go?”

  “Yes. You know, now that you’re married,” she teased.

  “We’re staying here.”

  “You are?” Charlotte couldn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “Chase is willing to do that?” She didn’t know the man well, but he appeared to enjoy the luxuries of life. And while Promise Creek had them to a point, they’d never be able to import the lifestyle he certainly enjoyed back East.