HisBootsUnderHerBed Read Free Page B

Skull. That’s what they called each other last night.”
    “Did you ever see them before?”
    “They came into the Grotto one night last week. Didn’t speak to anyone. After a couple of drinks, they got up and left. Then they showed up again last night. Same thing. They just sat, not saying anything to anyone. When you came downstairs, they got up and followed you out. Rumor has it they shanghai strangers traveling alone.”
    “Guess it’s more than a rumor,” Garth said. “Why hasn’t the sheriff arrested them?”
    “The sheriff!” Rory scoffed. “He’s as crooked as they are, and probably in cahoots with them. I’m thinking Mo might be, too. But I don’t think any of the girls are, because they’re the ones who told me about Bates and Skull.”
    “Well, you saved me from a long sea trip, Miss Rory. I don’t know when I can repay you, but you can be sure I will someday when I hit it big.”
    “Don’t tell me you’re a gambler, too. You men are all alike, always betting on winning that big pot.”
    “I’m not talking about gambling, Miss Rory. There’s more than one kind of way to get rich.”
    She laughed. “Indeed. The big gold mine that’s just awaiting for you to pick up the nuggets.”
    Garth chuckled. “Could be.”
    She gaped in shock. “It is that, isn’t it? Holy sweet Mary! I sure had you pegged wrong, Garth Fraser. Figured you had something better under your hat than just a head good for smashing blackjacks over.”
    “Ah…about last night. Right now I only have a few dollars, but you’re welcome to them.”
    “’Tis a kindly offer, but why would I take your money?”
    He glanced toward the bed. “You mean we didn’t…”
    She felt the heated flush of rising anger. “We certainly didn’t !”
    His smile of relief was just as irritating. “Then let me at least pay for the broken bottle of whiskey.”
    “You can be certain I’m doing just fine without your charity, Mr. Fraser.”
    He threw back his head in laughter. “You know, Miss Rory O’Grady, I find it delightful how you slip in and out of a brogue whenever that pert little nose of yours gets out of joint.”
    Rory blushed and took a deep breath to regain control. She’d worked too hard to rid herself of the brogue to get careless now. Glancing up at him, she tried to ignore the effect his engaging grin had on her.
    “The whiskey was put to a better use than it would have been here,” she said. “Now if I were you, Mr. Fraser, I’d get out of town first thing this morning in case those two scoundrels are still around.”
    “I’m not afraid of them. Now that I’m aware of what they’re up to, I can take care of myself. But what about you? It’s not safe for you to remain here. They’ll want to get even with you for helping me.”
    “Neither of them saw me, so I’ll be safe. I’ll go back to work tonight, and no one will be the wiser.”
    “Why are you working in a dump like the Grotto anyway?”
    “Because they didn’t need my services at the Palace.”
    “I mean, why sell yourself for a couple bucks?”
    Despite his friendly tone, she resented the remark. Who was he to judge what she had to do just to keep a roof over her head? Much less a fancy Southern mansion like that soothing Southern accent of his reflected.
    “I am not a prostitute, Mr. Fraser. Maybe you should address your question to Miss Shelia, since I didn’t hear you turn down her offer.”
    “Then why…what…” he stuttered.
    “I hustle watered-down drinks and listen to men’s tales of woe, and if they’re willing to pay twenty-five cents, I dance with them. That’s all any man gets from me: a sympathetic ear or a dance.”
    Rory squared her shoulders, picked up his hat, and opened the door. “Now, I’d appreciate you getting your ungrateful rear end out of here.”
    He came over to her and clasped her by the shoulders. “Rory, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”
    “Please leave, sir. I’m sure your mother