Breathless(11)

“Are you always this sincere?”

Portia felt as if they were alone in an empty room. “When I need to be, yes.”

“Good to know,” he said softly.

The three words left her heart pounding.

Regan walked up. She looked to Portia first and then Kent. Waving her hand in the space that separated them she said, “Hey, you two. Aunt Eddy and Uncle Rhine are saying their good-byes. Everyone is going home.”

Portia stood. Whatever was unfolding inside herself wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before, so she had no name for it nor any idea how to go about handling it. But she did know that this cowboy and his compelling gaze was the source. “I—I have to go.”

He nodded, and as she and her sister walked away, she didn’t see his smile as he finished his cake.





Chapter Three




Kent had no idea what time breakfast was served or how it was handled but as was his custom, he got up before dawn and went in search of food. The hallway anchored by the girls’ bedrooms at one end and Rhine and Eddy’s at the other was quiet. If they were still sleeping, he didn’t want to disturb them so he left the hallway as quietly as he could. Retracing the route from yesterday, he walked down another short, tiled hallway that led to the family sitting area. Hearing voices, he followed the sound into the dining room. Eddy and Portia were seated at the table. There were plates in front of them and cups of coffee.

Eddy greeted him with a smile. “Good morning, Kent. Join us please. Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Been a while since I slept in a real bed.” For a man more accustomed to sleeping on a bedroll on the ground or the hard slats in a bunkhouse, it had been wonderful. He gave Portia a nod. “Morning.”

She glanced away from her newspaper. “Good morning.” Her attention immediately returned to the paper but not before letting her eyes stray his way one more time.

“Do you want eggs with your breakfast?” Eddy asked.

“Yes, but I can cook them myself. Just show me where things are in the kitchen.” He noticed Portia’s look of mild surprise.

Eddy shook her head. “No. I haven’t been allowed to cook in days, so humor me.”

He was accustomed to taking care of his own needs, including his meals, but he knew a losing battle when he was in one, so he offered a compromise. “Okay, but I cook them tomorrow.”

“That’s agreeable. Now, how do you like them?”

“Scrambled.”

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

She went into the kitchen and left him alone with Portia. He didn’t want to disturb her reading while he waited for Eddy to return so he walked to the windows that faced the well-manicured grounds. The sun was just coming up.

“How long are you planning on staying with us?” she asked.

“Rhine’s offered me a job, so it depends on what it’s going to be.” He turned to gauge her reaction. Her face showed nothing. She’d be a good poker player. “Do you and your sister help out around here?”

“Yes. I manage the hotel, the guests, and the books.”

He raised an eyebrow. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting her to say but it certainly hadn’t been that, but then again he remembered all she’d done last night at the party. “Lots of responsibility.”

“Yes and responsibilities some people believe I shouldn’t have.”

That confused him. “Why?”

“Because I’m female.”

“Ah.” That now made sense, so he added, “Not all women are flighty. Just as all men aren’t jackasses like Day.”

Her mask dropped and there was interest in her eyes again. He decided he liked surprising her. He got the impression that the men who did were few and far between. “Remember, I lived in Virginia City with Eddy and Sylvie as examples of female know-how.” Sylvia “Sylvie” Stewart, married to his father, had owned quite a bit of property in town. Her business acumen was as well-known and respected as Eddy’s had been.

“You have no idea how many men think otherwise.”

“I can only imagine.”

Eddy returned with a bowl of steaming eggs. He took a seat and filled his plate. There was a platter holding warm biscuits—hidden beneath a tea towel to keep in the heat—fresh butter, slabs of crisp bacon, and orange marmalade. After pouring himself a cup of coffee he started in. The eggs were wonderful, far more expertly done than he could have managed but he was determined to cook tomorrow. The spoiled boy he’d once been had died in the Mexican prison and he didn’t like being waited on—not even by friends. “Where’s Rhine this morning?” he asked Eddy.

She smiled over her raised cup of coffee. “Still sleeping of course. He’s never shaken the habit of owning a saloon and staying awake until dawn. Personally, I don’t think he’s ever made a serious effort to change. He enjoys lazing about until midday.”

The younger version of Kent had enjoyed that as well, but when you hire on with a ranching outfit, foremen didn’t pay you for lying in bed. There were horses to feed, fences to mend, cows to herd, and broncs to break. He looked to Portia. “Is your sister still sleeping?”

She spoke as gracefully as she could around the biscuit she’d just bitten into. “No. She’s having breakfast with Old Man Blanchard. She eats with him a couple of mornings a week. His wife died about ten years ago and he likes Regan’s company. He has a married daughter in Tucson but she doesn’t visit him very much.”