Thank you for your continued support. This chapter starts off with an insight to what Sam was thinking ad feeling after the porch kiss and Buford's announcement.
Standard disclaimer.
Sam was raging, as he stood at the bar and watched that whiny ninny, lead Mercedes back inside the house.
She looked flustered and confused, but the short officer looked happy and triumphant. She wasn't anymore confused, than Sam was.
He'd kiss the prim old maid out there on the porch, in his plan to seduce her and get her share of the business.
But, he'd never had a kiss affect him like that. Never.
He signaled Len for another drink. The bartender paused.
"You sure boss? This ain't like you…"
"Gimme another drink, damn it!" he ordered, as Fortenbury marched proudly across the floor, to where the band played and signaled for silence.
Although the drunks in the crowd, cheered at the Lieutenant's bold announcement, there was uncertain applause among others.
The lieutenant wasn't the most popular officer at the fort.
'What the hell?' Sam swore under his breath.
How could she have been out on that porch with him, kissing him, like she was going to surrender her virginity, in such hot passion one minute and a few minutes later, her engagement to that shitty upstart, was being announced?
Fortenbury was so low-down, he'd steal the milk out of a baby calf's bucket. It was all Sam could do, not to throw his glass at the idiot of a man.
Of course, the officer was only beating him at his own game, he told himself.
But, not only was that freak going to take her virginity, it looked like Sam and him would soon be partners.
'Not even if hell freezes over,' Sam vowed.
Everyone was gathering around the officer now, shaking his hand and offering congratulations.
Sam didn't move.
Instead, he glared at Mercedes.
She looked at him and then glanced away.
She didn't look too happy, to have just accepted a marriage proposal.
Quinn had sneaked in through a side door and blended into the crowd.
No one noticed her leaning against the bar, smoking a cigarette.
She signaled Len for a drink, as she caught Sam's eyes, and smiled at him.
"Hey sport, what do you think of that?" she asked. Sam shrugged.
"He's after her half of the Lily."
"You don't think he actually loves her?" she asked. She sipped her whiskey, smoke curling around her blonde head.
"Of course, not," he snapped.
He remembered the surprise of Mercedes' hot, wild kisses. Now, Buford would get those. The thought made Sam grit his teeth. Quinn winked boldly at him.
"You don't look too happy about the engagement." He shrugged again.
"Except for the battle over the Lily, why would I care?"
"Why don't you come on over to the Bucket O' Blood, Sam? I got a room there and we could have some fun." He shook his head.
"I'm the host. I can't leave."
"Any excuse is a good one."
"What do you mean by that?" he snarled at her.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." She took a big drag on her cigarette and ashes flew everywhere.
"Be careful with that, Quinn, you'll start a big fire someday."
"Yeah. Well, see ya."
She finished her drink and walked slowly out the front door, swinging her little hips. She turned and gave him a smile and nodded in open invitation.
Sam swallowed hard.
He needed a woman bad, but he didn't want that slut tonight.
Funny, he didn't used to be that choosy and Quinn really knows how to please a man.
He just kept clenching his fists and watching Lieutenant Fortenbury's grinning triumphant face, as he now stood at Mercy's side, with his arm around her.
How dare he?
'How dare he what?' he asked himself. If that fool was going to marry her, he had a right to put his arm around her waist.
He was looking at her like he owned her.
That really annoyed Sam.
The members of the Town Beautification Committee drifted over to him.
"Don't say anything," he warned.
"She took him over you?" Will said, more than asked. "That don't make no sense." Pug shook his head and said,
"I reckon, you ain't the ladies' man we thought you was, Sam." Sam's hand itched to punch him for that comment. But he refrained. Pug was still his friend.
"I'm not done yet," Sam countered. And then, "That lock will come off her door, you'll see."
"Yeah, but for which man?" one of the other guys asked and Sam grabbed him by the collar.
"Watch your mouth." The others grabbed his arms.
"Easy, Sam. Don't hit him. He didn't mean nothin," Pug begged.
"I told you, I'm not through yet," Sam said. "You'll see," he finished.
"It don't matter none," Pug soothed.
"It matters to me," Sam snapped. "My pride is at stake. How could she choose him over me?" Will ran his hand through his thick hair.
"Did you ask her to marry you?"
"Are you insane? I may be drunk, but I'm not that crazy." He leaned on the bar and surveyed the room.
"Well, the man that beds her, will have to marry her," Will said.
The others nodded in agreement.
Sam was tempted to tell them about kissing her on the porch, but he didn't. He'd had a feeling out there, that if he'd gathered her up in his arms and carried her out to the barn, he'd have her clothes off and the two of them putting out enough heat, to set the hay on fire.
"Just wait," he promised.
The bar ran out of liquor, so the men began to drift away.
The bride and groom had left hours ago, but no one seemed to notice.
Now, as the crowd thinned, Sam marched over to where Buford and Mercedes stood, accepting congratulations, and said,
"Time to go home, soldier boy."
"Are you ordering me out of here?" Fortenbury asked.
"I am," Sam said. Mercedes bristled.
"You can't do that. I'm half owner…"
"Remember, we run a respectable house and time for gentleman callers to leave," Sam said.
Her eyes blazed.
Why had he never noticed, how long her lashes were and how endearing her freckles are?
"You aren't suggesting we'd do anything improper, are you?" she seethed. And then. "Buford, my honor is at stake here."
Sam grinned at her.
Surely she didn't expect the cowardly officer, to take a poke at the best saloon brawler in Texas?
"Uh…" said the shorter man, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I'm merely closing the Texas Lily, for the evening. Good night, Lieutenant," Sam said.
Fortenbury acted as if he wanted to argue, then seemed to realize, just how tough and muscular the Sam was.
"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow, darling." Mercedes held out her hand awkwardly and said,
"Good night, Buford."
He kissed her hand, claimed his hat from the frowning Carmen and left the house. Mercedes turned to Sam.
"That was rude."
"Yeah, I know. I'm a rude fellow."
"Worse, you're drunk," she said.
"Also guilty. Good night, Miss Jones."
He stumbled towards his room and tripped against a table leg, caught himself and kept walking.
Behind him, Mercedes watched him go.
Yes, he was everything she didn't want in a man…savage, virile, rude and of no background. He was everything the Lieutenant wasn't.
She heard him stumble into his room and slam the door so hard, the house shook.
Carmen gave her a disapproving frown and began to turn out the lights.
Mercedes stood there in the growing darkness, trying to decide what to do. She shouldn't care that the scoundrel was angry with her, but somehow, it mattered.
A few minutes later, Mercedes tiptoed across the floor and down the hall to Sam's room. She rapped lightly on his door.
"Mr. Evans? Sam?"
"What the hell do you want?" He sounded annoyed.
"I…I want to explain to you…"
"Go away."
She stood there, hesitating.
What did she want? This was not at all proper…she knew it and yet, here she stood.
She should go up to her room and dream about her upcoming wedding to Buford.
Once again, she was back in the garden, getting that big, wet smack of a kiss. She had, maybe, fifty years of those kisses ahead of her, she thought.
Without a second thought, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"Mr. Evans? Sam?" The door opened suddenly, and he stood there, big and manly, with an angry expression on his gorgeous face.
"I said, what the hell do you want?"
Mercedes was paralyzed with indecision, staring up at this drunken, sexy man, remembering that wild, passionate kiss.
Passed his shoulder, she could see his bed and the way he was looking down at her, told her exactly what he was thinking…about gathering her up in his arms and taking her there, to make sweet, hot love to her.
She was completely unnerved at the bold need in his eyes.
"I…nothing. I didn't want anything," she got out.
She turned on her heels and fled down the hall, up the stairs, into her room and closed her door, locking it.
She stood gasping for air, as she leaned against the door.
Why had she done such a foolish thing? Buford was right, she needed to move out of this place as soon as possible.
I blame Mercedes' upbringing for the way she is. Smh.