Page 35 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“After the place changed hands at least a half dozen times in a year, the owner couldn’t find another fool to buy it. He gave up and was heading back East when our paths crossed.”
“Why did it have so many owners?”
“I mentionedit’s a roughtown, but I could tell from his stories he had no clue what he was doing.”
“And you do?”she asked, immediately regretting it whenhe scowled ather.
“You insult me, woman. When have I ever failed at anything?”
Sex and whiskey loosened Fen’s tongue. At least twice, he’d bet enough to buy Eldridge House and lost it all, starting over from nothing each time. She thought it best not to bring up either case now and risk provoking him further.
“I’m worried for you,”she said, switching topics to one of his favorites—himself.
“I cantake care ofmyself. Besides, the prior owner oftheBucket ofBloodsaid things have calmed since the outlaws aren’t running the town anymore.”
“Gads, what an awful name,”she exclaimed.
The images it prompted weren’t much better, of rough-and-tumble men with pistols on their hips and no law to contain them. It would be worse than St. Louis ever thought to be. At least the city had a full-time police force. Although they usually avoided the river district, with all the bars and brothels, unless a riot or murder demanded their attention.
“Are you going to employ women at your saloon?”
“I doubt I’d have many customers without ’em.”
“What kind?”she asked, an idea taking shape. “Dancing girls? Barmaids for serving drinks? Or do you intend to run an upstairs business?”
“I had thought all three.”He quirked a brow and asked teasingly, “Why? Are you looking for work?”
“Yes.”she said without hesitation.
“Ah, now I know what this is about.”A devilish grin overtook his features, and she could hear the smugness in his voice. It forewarned her to prepare for Fenton to do one of three things—be at his most arrogant, vulgar, or insensitive. “You’re going to miss me, aren’t you, Lottie? While it’s true, you’ll never find another to match what I’m packing, a pretty little whore who’s as good a cock sucker as you won’t have a lick of trouble filling my spot.”
And with that, all three combined into one offensive statement, he outdid himself. Adding the hated Lottie was the cherry on top.
Charlotte closed her eyes as the insult washed over her. Fen wasn’t stupid, but his tenant farmer father believed schooling was a waste of time and young Fenton’s strong back. He’d been cast out at ten when his mother revealed that Fenton, Sr. wasn’t his father. As such, he lacked the most rudimentary of the social graces. To him, a spade was a spade, a whore, a whore, and a bastard was a bastard, just like him. By his way of thinking, praising her looks and the ability to get him off with her mouth was a compliment. On that, they strongly differed.
“Safe travels,”she said coolly on her way to the door. “I’m going down to the kitchen for a snack. You can let yourself out.”
He bolted upright on the bed, shocked. “That’s my goodbye? After a year?”
“I’m only a good little cocksucker. What do you expect?”
“Aw, Lottie. You know I was teasing.”
“And you know I don’t care for that nickname, Fenny.”
Off the bed and in front of her in a blink, he barred the door with his body. “Don’t go. We’ve still got the evening ahead of us.”
Clasping her hands in his, Fen pulled her back toward the bed. “I’ll be good. We’ll talk. You can read to me.”
With an unenthusiastic sigh, she wondered aloud, “Why does a slice of apple pie sound so much better than that?”
“Name it,”he cajoled, the charm and grin reappearing. “What do you want to do?”
“To strike a bargain with you.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and guided her between his thighs. Looking up at her, he stated, “Lay it out for me.”
“What I’m suggesting is that we form a partnership.”
