Page 3 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

“More like, I could tell straight away that you’re a woman who will scold me into behaving myself.” He folded his arm on the bar, so his face was closer to hers.

Her stomach rose and fell as though she were in a carriage traveling over a dip in the road. She held his gaze a little too long, aware of the heat that tinted her cheeks. Aware that he could not only see it; he understood it.

“Those bibles must be heavy,” she said with a very deliberate drag of her gaze to his muscled shoulders and upper arms.

“Not as heavy as my conscience. Care to save me from my sins?”

“If it were Sunday, I would be in a position to help you atone.” She batted her lashes, allowing that word ‘position’ to linger between them. She held his gaze until her heart nearly battered itself out of her chest. “Being a Thursday, I can only offer holy water and a collection plate.” She slid her gaze to her tin tray.

“Ha.” He dropped a half dollar onto it with a clink. “I’ll take salvation where I can find it.”

“I thought you were delivering.” She cocked her head.

“I deliver,” he assured her with a confidence that gave her that slippery, out-of-control sensation again. “Have you not found it here?” His lashes tangled together as he looked through them at her. “When did you arrive?”

“About an hour ago.”

His mouth twitched. “In Denver,” he clarified.

“Recently.” She was deliberately cryptic to keep him intrigued.

“Where’s home?”

“Chicago. Have you been?” She resisted the urge to draw back so she could draw a full breath and tried to keep the conversation on him. She was fascinated by him. His eyebrows and sideburns were bronze. His lips were full and smooth and seemed to naturally rest in a secretive smile. He smelled of fresh air, leather, and soap.

“I hear it’s cold in Chicago. I don’t like to be cold.” He was looking at her mouth which made her aware she’d been staring at his. “I could be persuaded to visit, though. If I knew a warm welcome awaited me.”

Oh. Heat kindled in her middle. It licked like flames upward in her chest, past her throat and into her cheeks.

No, no, no.

“I was hoping for the same thing here.” She was barely clinging to her air of nonchalance as she struggled to breathe.

“What brought you here?” His eyelids returned to being weighted. His tone was laconic but held a note that sounded like real interest.

Don’t fall for it.

“Seeking a warmer climate, obviously. You?”

“Bible sales. Obviously.” His mouth paused in its slow smile that stalled as he looked past her. “Excuse me one minute. Business.” He shot his drink and straightened to move around her to the far end of the bar where Mr. Dudley signaled him to go into the room behind the bar.

Temperance released the tension from her chest with a subtle exhale. Who on earth was he to affect her so profoundly? This was worse than Dewey’s effect on her. That had been fueled by flattery and her own hopes. This was visceral. Uncontrollable.

A man called out to her, thankfully pulling her from her daze.

When Owen reappeared, he was placing a wallet in an inside pocket of his jacket.

By then, Temperance had been commandeered into shaking dice for one of the men at the gambling table. She did her best to pretend she hadn’t noticed his return.

Owen stayed for one more drink. She felt his eyes on her for a full quarter hour, but when she looked for him after that, he was gone.

Chapter 2

When the other boarders in Mrs. Pincher’s rooming house began to stir, Temperance made herself rise to wash her face and brush out her hair, even though she’d only had four hours of sleep.

Her thoughts immediately turned to the mysterious Owen. She had been tempted to ask the other miners about him, but one didn’t flirt with one man by asking about another.

Besides, she had no interest in him. She refused to be intrigued by him.

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