Page 93 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

Her climax struck with exquisite force, engulfing her in waves of joyous pleasure while his hips continued to piston, holding her on that plateau of ecstatic beauty.

The very moment the pulses began to recede, he pulled out and thrust against her bare belly. Harsh groans escaped him as bursts of wet heat spilled across her skin.

Chapter 25

The first fingers of light were straying past the curtain when Clarence whined and scratched at the door from the parlor.

Owen bit back a noise of discontent, wanting to stay beneath the covers with Temperance. He pushed himself from the bed, dragging one of the blankets with him and wrapped it around himself as he opened the door to let Clarence in from the parlor. The dog wanted to go outside, so Owen then opened the back door, swearing under his breath at the cold air that rushed in.

While he waited for the dog, Owen poked at the banked fire, getting it going. Once Clarence was in and his cold, snow-caked ass was on his blanket in the corner, Owen turned back to the bed, but paused when he spotted the envelope that belonged to Temperance, still sitting on the table.

She was awake and lifted the blanket in an invitation for him to join her.

“Do you want this?” He brought the envelope.

“I don’t know. Who is it from?” She squinted through the dim light. “That’s Adelaide’s handwriting.” She made a face. “I hope Papa made it home safely. Do you mind?”

“No. Read it.”

He crawled in beside her and they rearranged themselves, so he spooned her while she clumsily opened the letter and held it up to catch the light. She read aloud:

“Dear Temperance,

Your father has asked me to advise you that he has arrived home safely from Fort Kearney and resumed his teaching position. The physician has put him on a strict diet of eating regularly which seems to keep his fainting spells at bay.”

“That’s good news,” Owen noted.

“Your brother is assisting him in your former capacity. Together, they have prepared your notes for printing. Your father anticipates sales will be modest but will cover the cost of your return to Chicago. He has made those arrangements. The details are enclosed.”

From a fold in the letter, Temperance drew a ticket that looked like the one Owen had purchased for Mavis and another that Owen presumed would take her from Leavenworth to Chicago.

He couldn’t seem to swallow the lump that lodged itself in his throat.

“Oh. This is from Caroline,” she said with excitement as she turned the page over to show him a note written in a childish scrawl.

“Tempy,” she began to read.

“Tempy?” Why had she never told him she had a nickname. He liked it.

“I have moved into your room,” she continued. “so Jeremy and Jacob can have their own. Papa said I might have to give it up if you come home, but Mama said you would make your own home somewhere else. If you come back, can you take my old room? This one is nicer with the fire and the desk by the window. I miss you and I hope you’re having a nice time and will write to me again soon. Please draw a picture for me. Here is one of Rascal.”

An illustration of a cat decorated the bottom of the page.

Owen rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to be brave about it, but his chest felt as though it was split wide open.

“Are you going to go home?” He held his breath.

“I thought this was my home,” she said in a small voice.

“Thank, God.” He rolled to grab her and drag her close again. “I was almost thinking about having a cry there. I didn’t know how to keep you from leaving when this is all you’ve wanted or talked about.”

She sighed, but her breath hitched. “I wanted her to accept me. My whole life, that’s all I’ve wanted, but did you hear any welcome in any of this?” She waved the papers. “If I went back, she would still find fault and make me feel like an interloper. You’ve never made me feel as though I was someone who had to be tolerated.”

He hated to see the shadows of old rejections in her eyes so he released a long-suffering sigh and said, “It’s the dog I have to tolerate. I can’t believe you saddled me with him.”

“Oh, please.” She pinched at his belly. “If he ran back to Mrs. Pincher’s today, you’d be over there within the hour with a pound of gold and a loaded gun, willing to do whatever it took to get him back.”

“Coincidentally, that’s also what I would do if you went back to Chicago.”