Page 51 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

She kept her arms hugged around her legs, too mortified by her irrational wants to lift her face and see if he had managed to clothe himself.

“I wanted to clean up for my meetings with the glassmaker and whiskey supplier. I’m dressed. You don’t have to hide your eyes.” Fabric rustled, though, as he finished closing buttons. “Mick has promised to give me whatever he can get his hands on, but P.J. sells bottles of liquor and tobacco. He might be able to suggest a distillery. I wouldn’t mind trying my hand at making my own, if I can find someone to show me. Why are you back so soon? Was the shop not open?”

“Not for me, it isn’t.” She dropped her hands down to her ankles and let her head fall back onto the wall, barely able to keep her mouth from sliding right off her face. “They wouldn’t serve me.”

“What?” He quit adjusting his suspenders, hands falling to his sides.

“Ivy Greenly was there. She told the woman not to sell me anything. She called me a soiled dove, because I’m living here with you.”

Owen swore under his breath. “Ivy Greenly should be careful who she picks fights with, especially when she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Believe me, I would have told her she was full of shit if I could have, but I can’t,” she said with a pang of anguish in her throat. She folded her arms onto her upraised knees and hid her face with fresh dejection. “I am a soiled dove.”

This was his fault.

“For spending a couple of nights with me?” Owen chided lightly. “Temperance, you know we haven’t done anything we shouldn’t.” She’d watched a woman give birth. She knew how they were made. “Are you upset because you saw me naked?”

That had disconcerted him. He wasn’t shy, but he’d been startled by her sudden arrival and Clarence’s far too friendly behavior. Standing naked before her while she laughed at him hadn’t been comfortable, but he could see the funny side of it now that he was dry and warm and dressed.

“No,” she moaned and kept her face hidden. “I’ve been with a man, Owen.” Her voice was filled with such disgrace it caused a painful hitch in his heart.

He’d wondered about this. She had a certain air of experience, one that allowed her to flirt with a combination of confidence and jaded wariness. She could be naïve at other times, sure, but nothing prepared a person for living rough like this except living it. Citified standards didn’t exist here, so she shouldn’t hold herself to them.

He crouched in front of her. “I’ve been with a woman. Three, actually. What does that make me?”

“A man who has turned three women into harlots?” she suggested, lifting her head to give him a baleful look.

“That’s not what they were, before or after. Two were widows. One had a husband she neglected to mention until after.” The first had taught him how to use a skin, and he might have stuck with the second longer if he hadn’t gone to California. The married one was the reason Virgil had such a nasty scar on his face. Owen had been more careful since, not willing to risk losing someone he cared about through his own stupidity. Not again.

“What happened?” He sat down in front of her, one knee up so he could rest his elbow on it. “You fell in love and he broke your heart? Please don’t tell me he hurt you, taking what you didn’t want to give.” That would kill him to hear. His chest tightened as he held his breath, bracing for the worst.

Her gaze was troubled, but she shook her head.

“No. He was someone I thought I could love, though. He’s the son of one of my father’s colleagues. He was charming, always quoting poetry and different books.”

Owen hated him even worse.

“I thought him witty at the time, but looking back, I see his jokes were always at someone else’s expense.” She picked at a spatter of mud on her skirt. “He’s very good looking and knows it.” Her lashes lifted and the light in her eyes was accusatory.

He knew he was good looking and yes, he used it. He’d been given very little to work with. He had a good memory, the ability to crack a joke, and a face that people trusted. All of that and years of backbreaking labor had got him this far. He refused to apologize for any of it.

“I thought marrying him would have kept me involved in my father’s professional life. Papa loves me, I know he does, but he has four other children plus my stepmother, Adelaide. It’s hard to get his attention, especially when I’m...” She shrugged. “He wasn’t properly married to my mother so I’m…” She lifted a wary gaze.

“Having parents who were married in a church doesn’t make them better than anyone else, Temperance. I promise you.”

“I know, but...” Her mouth pouted with hurt. “Adelaide thinks it does. At least when I work with Papa, I know I have a place in his life. I feel like he needs and appreciates me.”

“I forgot you have so much family to get back to.”

“I don’t, though,” she said with a fresh well of tears in her eyes. “Adelaide threw me out after she realized I’d been with Dewey. He refused to marry me.”

His name was Dewey? That’s what Virgil’s daughter called her baby brother’s penis. Put your drawers on, Harley. Everyone can see your dewey.

“Could your father not have put pressure on him? Talked to his father?”

“I didn’t want to marry him after I realized what sort of man he was!” she choked. “He said he would never marry a woman who has sex before she marries—after turning me into one! He said that’s how a man winds up with a disease. He only seduces virgins, so he won’t get the clap.”

Shit. Now he was going to have to make a special trip to Chicago and cut a man’s cock off, wasn’t he?