He takes a long swallow, sigh content, then tilts the cup toward me. “Next place we come to, I’ll see about gettin’ us more beans. Maybe somethin’ sweet too.”
“Where is that?” I ask.
“Little town down in Kentucky—Salt Lick. Place don’t look like much, just a mill, a store, and a saloon where the whiskey’s cheap. We’ll stock up, fill our bellies proper. Maybe even see what kind of mischief we can stir.”
I grin without thinking, an unexpected giggle bubbling to my lips. I’ve never imagined playing cards in some dusty town saloon. I scarcely let myself imagine being outside the confines of the inn. If I was in anyone else’s company, perhaps I would feel frightened by the unknown, but there’s something about Kodiak that makes me feel safe.
“Sweet mercy. Never reckoned I’d sit across from a smile so pretty. Careful, you smile at me like that in Salt Lick, you’ll give folks the idea I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”
My chest swells, and I shake my head, a flush consuming my cheeks. “You exaggerate.” I busy my hands with the kettle, but I can hardly think, my heart fluttering as if it’s poised to take flight.
“That husband never told you how beautiful you are?”
His father had. It was the way he explained why accepting me in lieu of monetary repayment of my father’s debt was a fair exchange.
“You mustn’t say such things.” My voice quivers, fragile as a strand of silk. “It isn’t proper.”
Kodiak tilts his head, studying me. “Proper’s a cage, little lamb. Ain’t you glad to be free of it?”
His words strike deep, and my breath stutters. I should rebuke him, I know I should, yet the wild, unbidden pull of him won’t allow it.
He reaches out—not to seize me, not rough like before, but slow, deliberate. The back of his finger grazes the curve of my wrist where it rests in my lap. It’s fleeting, no more than a ghostof a touch, yet that small moment of contact sends a shiver sparking up my arm.
“You can call me liar, sinner, thief,” he says, reaching for Joseph’s tobacco pouch, “but don’t tell me I don’t see what’s right in front of me. You’re beautiful, Alice. You smile like that, and all I can think on is how to keep it there. Might spend every mile south dreamin’ up ways to coax another one.”
I swallow hard, and suddenly the fire, the cups—anything but him—become unbearably interesting. He rolls a cigarette, and the flames smear into a warm blur, my thoughts tripping over themselves. “You’ll ruin me…words like that.”
He chuckles softly, licking his cigarette shut, his tongue dragging across the paper with his eyes on me. My toes curl in my boots.Oh my word.
“Then you’d better stop smilin’ so sweet.”
I start to smile again but force it back. How cruel of him to sexualize something as innocent as a smile. Now with every expression of joy I’ll wonder if I’m exciting him, if his trousers strain with it. “You are a shameless flirt, Mr. Randolph.”
He leans back on his hand, cigarette smoldering between two fingers.
The wind lifts a strand of my hair, and before I can tuck it away, he reaches out. His hand brushes the hair from my cheek. A touch that lingers—not possessive, but something tender, perilous.
“You shouldn’t look at me like that,” I murmur, heart thudding.
His thumb grazes the edge of my jaw. “Ain’t lookin’ at you like that ’cause I’m a flirt. Lookin’ at you ’cause I can’t help it.”
I don’t move. Don’t breathe.
His gaze drops to my mouth, but then he seems to think better of it and draws his hand back. “Best we get movin’ soon,”he says finally, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. “Salt Lick’s a ride yet, and the trail don’t wait for folks to finish breakfast.”
Chapter 12
KODIAK
Salt Lick ain’t much—barely more than a spit of land for beasts. One crooked row of clapboard fronts and a church squatting by the creek. Alice takes in the dusty landscape from the carriage. Poor thing really ain’t never seen much besides them few acres in Ohio, awed to death over buildings slouched in mud. She’s in for a real hell of a treat where we’re heading.
“Curious to name a town after a thing beasts lick,” she says, with a cute little squint and her mouth pursed. “On the farm, we kept a block for the cows. They’d wear it down to a nub if we let them.”
I huff a laugh. “They need it. Just like us. Wild ones’ll walk half a nation just to get to salt. Hunters figured it out quick—set yourself by the lick, and supper walks right to your rifle.”
Her brows lift just a touch. I can see the farm girl in her turning it over.
We rattle to a stop outside the general store. I swing down first, boots hitting the dirt, then offer her my hand. Her fingershesitate before touching mine, then I help her down. Reckon there’s something ’bout me that still frightens her.
