“I’m sorry I missed the first time you played along.” His breath tickled my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Lulu asked me if I wanted to bag a Clanton or an Earp. I think I prefer a cactus. Besides, she told me we’d make money. That’s all I cared about then.” I leaned back against him, and his arm instantly wrapped around my middle. It felt possessive, and I let it feed into my fantasy of being appreciated.
Coming to Tombstone had just been about a paycheck and a busted car. I never expected to find something real after I’d run from something awful. This wasn’t all sunshine and roses. It was terrifying in a way I’d never experienced. This man was dangerous, and I honestly believed what I’d said to him. We each had the power to destroy the other, and I’d never see the gaping hole in my chest until I was already gone.
I wasn’t someone who usually showed emotion over simple things, but the excitement sizzled in the air, making it impossible to stay numb. I smiled, wanting to absorb as much of it as possible. It reminded me of when the world had held answers instead of warnings. The re-enactor playing Ike Clanton for the day lumbered down the street in front of us.
“My head,” he moaned, stumbling around, before taking a fake sip from the bottle he used as a prop. I thought I would just be another tourist in the crowd, but he recognized me. Tipping the bottle in my direction, Ike wagged his fingerat me. “You’re trouble. Brought here by the devil.” He tripped, stumbling over his feet a few times. He positioned himself close to the rail. “Ms. Roxy.”
Cactus’s arm tightened around my waist, eliminating any space between us. “Don’t get attached to his character. Ike showed up at the O.K. Corral unarmed. You don’t want someone like that.” He made a humming sound. “I’ve never backed down from a fight.”
The corner of my lip turned up. I didn’t pay him any attention, knowing if I did, it would just encourage this Neanderthal behavior. Secretly, I didn’t mind. I’d been around enough motorcycle clubs to know how possessive they could be. This was Cactus staking his claim in a way that didn’t scare me. The snippets of history were nerdy but cute.
I bent backwards, thinking I’d get his attention. It didn’t work, so I slid my fingers between his at my waist, squeezing. “If I forget to thank you for today, thank you. I’m having a good time.” I meant every word, but it had also been a ploy to distract him.
There was a family standing next to us at the rail, but the grandmother had her mouth open. “I know you from somewhere.”
“No,” I laughed, not wanting her to draw attention to me. She’d probably seen the video and couldn’t put two-and-two together without my saloon girl uniform. “I work at the Blue Angel,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks in embarrassment. I didn’t want her persistence to ruin the day with Cactus by bringing up bad memories.
The cowboys were loud enough that we could still hear them up the street.
“I know I saw one of the Clantons running down here.”
They appeared, and I wanted to jump up and down like the little kid next to me. These four were the men who always ate lunch at the saloon. I wasn’t sure it would have been as fun if it were another set of actors the city employed.
“I’m telling you, Wyatt. He was here. Can’t you smell the wasted liquor?” Doc hit the marshal in the arm, pretending to sniff the air. “One should never take good liquor in vain.”
“If he’s drunk, he can sober upin a jail cell.”
“You know he is, but I want to know if he’s stupid enough to bring his gun into town.” Morgan Earp flapped the edges of his duster coat as he strolled down the street. “The Clantons are a stain on society. Speaking of stains, I haven’t seen a red sash.”
“No one likes a snitch,” Doc drawled.
A chuckle spread through the crowd on both sides of the street.
“Well…I’m ready for lunch, so if we don’t find him, you all know where to find me,” the man playing Virgil Earp said.
Had Angelica made a deal with the city? That was weird. She’d talked about making the cowboy visits permanent, but I had heard nothing concrete.
“Not me. If Clanton doesn’t show, I’m going to bed.” Doc Holliday stood at the end of the street, twirling his cane. He stabbed the end into the dirt, leaning against it as he struck a pose, yawning.
“You probably spent all night playing poker,” Morgan laughed.
“You would know, ole boy. You were sitting next to me.”
Another laugh spread through the crowd.
“Besides,” Doc said, “my favorite saloon girl is off, so there’s no point in going.” He tipped his hat in my direction, sending the grandmother next to me spiraling again.
I squeezed Cactus’s hand.
“You’re my favorite saloon girl, too,” he whispered directly into my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.
Doc started to say something else, but there was a loud boom. The cowboys took off running towards a side door. They disappeared, and a volunteer from the O.K. Corral came out of their shop, offering tickets to the show.
“Do you want to go?” I turned to ask Cactus.
He pulled two tickets from his pocket, swishing them between his fingers.
