Outlaw Love

They turned and headed out of the saloon. When they reached the door, Deuce ventured a glance at his father. Ben gave him a cold stare and walked out ahead of him. Deuce’s shoulders sagged, and he followed along behind.

Clay fell back in his chair and took a long drink of beer. Thoughts of his own father, his own family, floated through his mind, and for a moment he allowed himself to indulge in the memories. Happy times, filled with the love and closeness of a family. Times spent with… Rebecca.

Anger coiled in Clay’s belly. He pushed his beer aside and surged to his feet, knocking the chair to the floor. The saloon quieted, and gazes turned his way. Clay pulled his hat low on his forehead and kicked the chair aside. He didn’t like to remember. It always made him angry. But the anger was easier to endure than the guilt that ate at him. Guilt for his actions—and his actions alone—that forever guaranteed that those happy memories were a thing of the past.

The saloon patrons gave him a wide berth—and plenty of stares—as he made his way to the street again.

Dusk had fallen, and Clay felt tired. He’d seen the hotel when he rode into town this afternoon, so he headed down the street in that direction. Shops were closing for the night, merchants and customers hurrying home to their families. They paused long enough to give him and the star pinned to his vest a curious look. He ducked into the alley, unwilling to be the object of any more idle gossip today. At times, the badge was a heavy load to carry.

Kelsey swept the last of Etta Mae’s meal preparations from the floor and dumped them into the bucket of dirty water waiting beside the back door. She straightened and groaned softly in the silent kitchen. The guests were all upstairs, and Etta Mae had gone home, leaving Kelsey to close up for the night. She didn’t mind cleaning the kitchen alone. Tonight, fueled by thoughts of her encounter with Jack Morgan, the work had gone quickly.

Kelsey wiped her hands on the linen towel and draped it over her shoulder as she looked around the room. Spotless. She carried the bucket onto the back porch. In the fading light, she saw the small stable and paddock across the dirt alley and reminded herself to take the mare to the blacksmith first thing in the morning, before its owner was ready to check out. Early, before prying eyes noticed.

A cool breeze stirred and Kelsey shuddered, anxious to finish her chores and get into bed. She drew back the bucket and tossed the dirty water into the alley.

At that instant, a man turned the corner of the hotel, and the water hit him square in the belly.

“Jesus Christ!”

Clay roared like a wounded tiger as the water splashed up his shirt and down his trousers and soaked his boots.

Kelsey gasped and looked down in horror at the incriminating evidence in her hand. She tossed the bucket aside.

His gaze impaled her, blazing like hot embers in the dim light. “What the hell are you doing?”

Her eyes rounded. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

A stream of filthy curses tumbled from his lips as he looked down at himself and flung water from his hands.

“It was an accident. I didn’t mean to—”

His frown grew more fierce.

“Let me help you.” Kelsey pulled the linen towel from her shoulder and hurried to him. Quickly she pressed the towel against his chest, mopping up the wetness.

“I didn’t see you standing there,” Kelsey explained hurriedly. She dipped the towel lower and pressed it against his belly. “I’m terribly sorry—really I am.”

Fire, more intense than his anger, suddenly ignited low in Clay’s belly. Through the layers of clothing that separated his flesh from hers, the feel of her fingers moving over him, dipping lower and lower, sent a surge of desire through him, swift and strong. Its urgency overwhelmed him.

He felt the towel against his belt buckle, then against the front of his trousers. Clay gulped and jumped back.

“Stand still.” She stepped closer. “I’m not finished.”

If she kept this up, she’d have a finish she hadn’t counted on. Clay pushed her hands away. ‘’Keep to yourself.”

Annoyed, Kelsey planted a fist on her hips. “Stop making such a fuss. I’m just cleaning you up.”

Raging heat consumed him. He glared down at her. “Didn’t your mama tell you that’s no way for a lady to act?”

Kelsey rolled her eyes. “This is hardly the time for concern over proper decorum. Besides, I have brothers.”

“Well, I’m not one of them.” Clay yanked the towel from her hand and mopped the water from his trousers.

Heat flushed Kelsey’s cheeks, and she felt them redden. She took a step back, needing to put some distance between herself and this man, and the feelings his words had evoked.

“I’ve had a hell of a greeting in this part of the state,” Clay grumbled as he wiped his hands on the towel. “This tops off my day just dandy.”

Kelsey’s back stiffened. “You needn’t stand there acting as if this were all my fault”

He looked down at her, his eyes narrow. “You’re the one who threw the water, lady.”

“Well, you’re the one sneaking around the alley.” She planted her fist on her hip.

He waded the towel in his big hand and pointed. “I’m going to the hotel.”

Her nose went up a bit. “I don’t know where you’re from, but around here, guests use the front entrance.”

He lowered his face, leveling his nose with hers. “And I can sure as hell see why.”

They glared at each other for a moment before Kel-sey stepped back and lifted one shoulder. “Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”

He grumbled, then flung the towel over his shoulder. “No harm done,” he finally said.

“Good. Now, give me your trousers.”

His chest swelled. “What?”

Kelsey’s cheeks flamed. She twisted her fingers together. “To have them laundered.”

He drew in a long, ragged breath, then handed her the towel. “I need a room for the night Where’s the hotelkeeper?”

“That would be me. Kelsey Rodgers.”

His brows inched upward, and then he touched the brim of his black Stetson. “Clay Chandler.”

Noting that he hadn’t said he was happy to make her acquaintance, Kelsey turned quickly on her toes and led the way into the back entrance of the hotel. She felt him behind her, his height and wide shoulders a force of their own. The man radiated a heat she’d never noticed in any of her brothers. His big, heavy steps sounded on the bare floors, drowning out the light scuff of her slippers.

She tossed the towel on the sideboard as they passed through the kitchen and led the way down the hallway to the small lobby. Modestly furnished, it held the registration desk, a settee and two upholstered chairs. The dining room was located at one end of the room and the staircase to the second floor was situated at the other.

Clay took in the lobby in one sweep, then sauntered up to the desk. He pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his black, wavy hair. Kelsey slipped behind the desk and turned up the wick on the wall lantern. Their first meeting notwithstanding, she desperately needed another guest in the hotel, and she would take this stranger’s money gladly.

She put on her best hotelkeeper’s smile and turned to welcome him to the Eidon Hotel. The words suddenly died on her lips. Pinned to his vest, shining in the lanternlight, was the badge of a United States federal marshal.

Raw terror ripped through her. A federal marshal! Right in her own hotel! Had he come for her? Did he suspect her involvement in today’s stagecoach robbery? Would he arrest her on the spot? Kelsey gripped the edge of the desk.

“I’ll be staying a couple of nights.” Clay dropped his Stetson on the desk. “Give me a room facing the street.”

Kelsey swallowed hard and forced her gaze from his badge to his face. Recognition coiled her stomach into a knot. This wasn’t just any federal marshal, but the marshal she’d rescued from a hanging only hours earlier.