Page 59 of The Promise
"Coffee?" Loralee smiled down at him.
He nodded and she bent over him to pour the hot liquid in his cup, her nearness setting his insides on fire. He managed to refrain from pulling her into his lap, instead mumbling thanks to her breasts as they brushed past.
She moved away and he sat back, relieved that the sensual onslaught was over. He was just congratulating himself onhandling it all with some amount of dignity when he realized Arless and Pete had stopped eating, their know-it-all eyes twinkling with laughter.
"Ready for a little dessert, boy." Pete winked and Arless started laughing.
Heat washed across Patrick's face. A quick glance at the stove assured him that Loralee had her back turned. He glared at his two dinner partners.
"Who wants pie?"Loralee carried the pie plate over to the table and watched as three pairs of hungry eyes devoured the pie before she even had a chance to cut it. She'd forgotten how much men could eat. It was amazing. Why, she'd made two dozen biscuits and there wasn't one left.
She had to admit it made a body feel good to have her cooking appreciated. And truth be told, that wasn't the only thing making her body feel good. Every time she got within three feet of Patrick Macpherson, her hands started to sweat and she felt tingly all over. She sucked in a breath, swallowing her thoughts. No good ever came of feelings like that. No good at all.
She focused on the pie, cutting it into hefty slabs and placing them on four tin plates.
"Patrick, why don't you and Loralee take your pie out on the porch. Me and Arless have some business to discuss."
Arless looked up from pouring a flask of whiskey into his coffee. "We do?"
Pete shot him a look. "We do."
He frowned, then grinned. "Oh right."
Pete made a shooing motion toward the door. "Out. Sunset won't last forever."
Loralee tightened her grip on the plate, her mind of two accords. Go… stay… go. Her feet seemed to have made their own decision, and she started for the door. Patrick jumped up, managing to knock his chair over, hot color staining his face.
Good, at least she wasn't alone in her confusion. They arrived at the door at the same time and got stuck trying to pass through. She sucked in a breath as his hard body pressed against hers. Lord, she was behaving like a schoolgirl, and that was hardly the case, to say the least.
Finally, they managed to get out of the room and settle on the porch. Loralee sat on the top step and Patrick sat across from her, his long legs straddling the railing.
"I think we were set up." Patrick's emerald eyes twinkled and she felt a sudden burst of warmth somewhere deep inside.
"Yes, but with such a lack of subtlety." They laughed and then ate in companionable silence. The sun hung orange-red at the crest of the mountains, almost as if it was riding them. Loralee knew that in just a few minutes it would dismount, dropping behind the peaks, leaving behind pale streamers of pink and orange. And even those would soon slip away almost as if they were tethered to the sun itself. Sunset came fast in the mountains.
"Why'd you become a…" Patrick stopped, his face burning red again.
"Whore?" She filled in the word for him, unashamed of her choices.
"I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked you that. It's just that sometimes you seem so innocent, I forget that you, that you… Aw, hell."
She reached up and patted his knee. "It's all right. It's an honest question." She sighed. "I ran away from home when I was thirteen. My daddy drank. And when he was through sleeping with Mama, he started turning on us."
"Us?"
"Me and my sister, Faye." She set her plate and fork down on the step and leaned back, looking out at the mountains, remembering. "I woke up one morning, stiff and bruised, and figured I'd had about enough. So I packed up my stuff and left."
"What about your sister?"
"I tried to get her to come, but she was afraid. In the end, I just left her there."
"Where'd you go?"
"Here and there to begin with. I took odd jobs. Washing, cleaning, sweeping up, whatever I could find. I worked mostly for a place to lay my head and a bite to eat. I wound up in St. Louis, cooking for the girls at a fancy bordello." Patrick sat down beside her on the step, his presence comforting somehow. "I worked there for almost five months. The money was good and my bed was clean. Then one night a drunken customer mistook me for one of the girls. I fought like a hellcat at first, then finally decided it wasn't like I had anything to lose."
She laughed and was surprised at how bitter it sounded. "The next morning, he was gone and I had twenty-five dollars. Well, it didn't take too much ciphering to figure out that was more than I made in a week of cooking. And all I had to do was what my pa had already forced me to do." She shrugged philosophically. "Only problem was I wasn't one of the girls. Word got out and I found myself out of a job right quick. So I nosed around and tried to find a place in another parlor house."
"In St. Louis?"
