“We were harassed by some young boys,” Winnie said, wrangling her absurd thoughts under control.“They’re the ones who threw the dirt.”
He spread his arms wide and turned in a full circle. “And where are these mysterious boys now?”
Winnie’s nostrils flared, the few remaining vestiges of attraction vanishing in an instant.Noman called her a liar. “Are you suggesting I’m inventing a tale?”
"All I know is that you’re the only one covered in mud and standing beside my damaged automobile. If the shoe fits…”
“It might shock you to know that the Seattle Suffrage Society has loftier goals than damaging your automobile,sir.”
“They ran away after they dirtied Winnie,” Olive said.
The squeak in her shy friend’s voice heightened her anger, but what more could be said? It was clear Mack had already made up his mind, and as she had learned countless times throughout her life, a woman’s word always came second—at eight years old, when Tommy Whitaker let her take the punishment for spilling ink all over the classroom floor; at sixteen, when she witnessed a robbery but the male thief convinced everyone she was a liar; at twenty-one, mere months into her marriage, when her late husband decided she should stop working despite her wishes—it was just another item on a long list of insults.
She wouldn’t waste another breath.
Jaw clenched so tight it hurt, she whipped open her handbag and rummaged inside for her coin purse. Thrusting as many coins as she could into Mack’s hand, she said, “Here. I’ll pay for the boy’s damage to your windshield.”
He gave the money in his hand a cursory glance and shook his head. “This is something that can be resolved with your husband. I won’t take your pin money.”
Her face grew hot, and her chest tightened to a painful degree. That was all the money she had until the next payday, and he’d dismissed it like it was nothing. Maybe itwasnothing, but she’d be damned before she let him humiliate her in front of her friends.
“There is no pin money. I manage my own accounts,” she said between gritted teeth. “And my husband’s been dead for two years, so good luck getting any money out of him.”
If the silence had been awkward before, now it was excruciating. Mack’s mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. Her friends moved closer in silent support, giving her the strength to raise her chin and meet Mack’s gaze head-on.
The movement shook him from his reverie, and he said solemnly, “Mrs. West, my words were unconscionable.”
“Agreed,” Rhoda said icily.
“Instead of throwing accusations, I should have asked after your well-being. A refined woman like yourself deserves such a courtesy, and I fell short.” His throat bobbed, but he didn’t break eye contact. “And since you have never given me reason to doubt your word, I have done you a grave disservice by accusing you of a malicious act. Please accept my apology.”
The flames of Winnie’s outrage reduced to glowing embers—able to be rekindled if necessary, yet soothed by Mack’s sincerity. How had he knownexactlywhat would get through to her? Part of her suspected it was a ploy to save face, but another part wanted to crow in triumph—at last, a man had admitted to his unfair treatment.
Then his gloved fingers were wrapping around hers, enclosing the coins in her palm. She sucked in a breath as the gentle touch sent an electric pulse of desire between her thighs. She almost laughed at her body’s lack of judgment, but it meant nothing—anger and lust were merely two sides of the same coin.
“I won’t take your money,” he said softly.
“Fine by me.” She pulled her hand free and dropped the coins back into her change purse. The task returned her senses, and she looked up with renewed boldness. “I accept your apology, Mr. Donnelly, which could only be made sweeter by a generous donation to our cause.”
“You can send it to Longfellow House,” Clem chimed in helpfully.
Something like admiration flicked across his face. “You’ll receive my donation in the next few days, Miss…?”
Winnie quickly performed the introductions, and though Rhoda’s greeting included an ill-concealed glare, his apology had seemingly worked on them as well.
“And will you allow me to sign your petition?” Mack asked.
Winnie couldn’t contain her surprise. “You support our cause?”
“If all suffragists are as earnest and resolved as you are, I would be a fool to stand against it.”
Olive let out a low, dreamy sigh, and Winnie fought to maintain a serene expression as she removed the petition from the basket. Once it was signed, Mack handed it back to her, his finger grazing hers as the pen exchanged hands.
For the second time in a span of moments, a spark of awareness shot through her. Was she so desperate for affection that the smallest touch could affect her so? Or was it because Mack stared at her with an intent expression, as if she were the only woman in the square?
Rhoda came to the rescue once more, saying, “You’ve earned the pleasure of living another day, Mr. Donnelly.”
A wry grin tugged at his lips, finally revealing an adorable dimple. “I’m pleased to hear it, Miss Carlisle. Now, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I see my friend has arrived. He’ll help me sort out this mess.” He replaced his hat, and then in a softer tone that made her neck prickle, he said, “Mrs. West, I’ll see you at the office.”
