on a mouth gone dry.
“Well, look at you,” he said, stupidly.
She beamed him a smile as if he’d just told her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He gave a hard jerk of his head. “It suits you.”
“Thank you. It does feel a bit strange, but somehow not. And you, look how fine you look with your beard off. At first I thought I got the wrong room.”
He brought up a hand self-consciously and rubbed his hand across his clean-shaven jaw. “If we’re going to New York, I suppose I should look the part.”
“Do men not have beards in New York?”
It was questions like this that made him realize how little she knew of the world. “They do, but they’re a bit more neat and trim.”
“You look quite respectable,” Genny said, tilting her head.
It was a fight not to smile because just those words made him feel as if he was something special, something other than the son of an actress and a father he’d never met.
Mitch suddenly wanted to be in a room full of people, noisy, raucous people. And men. Men who drank whiskey, talked about horses and mules, and bet each other on how far they could spit a watermelon seed.
“Come on, let’s go show that jeweler your pretty dress and then go find a place to eat.”
Sacramento had two types of establishments—the ones that catered to bankers and the ones that catered to hard-working men. Mitch chose the latter. He was in no mood for polite company, for putting on airs, for making certain he was using the right fork. He’d been in those places, and they were fine, but he needed a place where no one would care if his boots were dusty or his jacket frayed. He hadn’t brought his dress clothes with him on the trail; that was one of the beauties of his summers. For a long moment, he felt a sharp twinge of regret. Did he really want to go home to New York, to a life where every day would be the same, where a stroll through Central Park would be the closest thing he found to the wild? He figured he could deliver Genny to her family and then go back to his old life if he wanted to. Or he could start his own studio and settle down. That’s what he’d planned all along. That’s why even when those girls in Omaha batted their eyes at him, he ignored them. He wasn’t about to drag a girl away from her family to New York. If he were perfectly honest, there were times he missed the city, missed the sounds and smells of the place. Hell, sometimes he even missed his mother.
When they entered French’s Saloon, Mitch sighed and grinned. Yes, this was exactly what he needed. He cast a worried look in Genny’s direction, knowing he was taking her to a place he oughtn’t. But she was grinning, her eyes sparkling with excitement. And it was still too early in the evening to bring out the hardcore drinkers and the fancy ladies who took their bills. The two of them would eat and leave, then get a good night’s rest before their long train trip back East.
Three hours later, Mitch looked up from his card table to make sure Genny was still fine. She’d been talking to another woman nearly the entire time, taking delicate sips from her teacup. He guessed she hadn’t talked to a female in years and seemed to be enjoying herself. God knew he was. He got to slouch and swear and throw back a couple of whiskeys, listen to ribald jokes and tell a few of his own. A fight at a table near the back nearly broke out, and Mitch immediately stood, ready to escort Genny out of the saloon if need be. But the men quickly settled down and a couple of light skirts swooped in to distract them, so Mitch relaxed. He was having fun after being cooped up with a female for so long. Even if Genny was pleasant company, even if she looked prettier and prettier every time he looked up.
It was near ten o’clock when Mitch decided to call it a night. He could tell Genny was starting to get sleepy and he figured he’d had enough of male company to last him until Omaha. When Genny saw
“Well, look at you,” he said, stupidly.
She beamed him a smile as if he’d just told her she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He gave a hard jerk of his head. “It suits you.”
“Thank you. It does feel a bit strange, but somehow not. And you, look how fine you look with your beard off. At first I thought I got the wrong room.”
He brought up a hand self-consciously and rubbed his hand across his clean-shaven jaw. “If we’re going to New York, I suppose I should look the part.”
“Do men not have beards in New York?”
It was questions like this that made him realize how little she knew of the world. “They do, but they’re a bit more neat and trim.”
“You look quite respectable,” Genny said, tilting her head.
It was a fight not to smile because just those words made him feel as if he was something special, something other than the son of an actress and a father he’d never met.
Mitch suddenly wanted to be in a room full of people, noisy, raucous people. And men. Men who drank whiskey, talked about horses and mules, and bet each other on how far they could spit a watermelon seed.
“Come on, let’s go show that jeweler your pretty dress and then go find a place to eat.”
Sacramento had two types of establishments—the ones that catered to bankers and the ones that catered to hard-working men. Mitch chose the latter. He was in no mood for polite company, for putting on airs, for making certain he was using the right fork. He’d been in those places, and they were fine, but he needed a place where no one would care if his boots were dusty or his jacket frayed. He hadn’t brought his dress clothes with him on the trail; that was one of the beauties of his summers. For a long moment, he felt a sharp twinge of regret. Did he really want to go home to New York, to a life where every day would be the same, where a stroll through Central Park would be the closest thing he found to the wild? He figured he could deliver Genny to her family and then go back to his old life if he wanted to. Or he could start his own studio and settle down. That’s what he’d planned all along. That’s why even when those girls in Omaha batted their eyes at him, he ignored them. He wasn’t about to drag a girl away from her family to New York. If he were perfectly honest, there were times he missed the city, missed the sounds and smells of the place. Hell, sometimes he even missed his mother.
When they entered French’s Saloon, Mitch sighed and grinned. Yes, this was exactly what he needed. He cast a worried look in Genny’s direction, knowing he was taking her to a place he oughtn’t. But she was grinning, her eyes sparkling with excitement. And it was still too early in the evening to bring out the hardcore drinkers and the fancy ladies who took their bills. The two of them would eat and leave, then get a good night’s rest before their long train trip back East.
Three hours later, Mitch looked up from his card table to make sure Genny was still fine. She’d been talking to another woman nearly the entire time, taking delicate sips from her teacup. He guessed she hadn’t talked to a female in years and seemed to be enjoying herself. God knew he was. He got to slouch and swear and throw back a couple of whiskeys, listen to ribald jokes and tell a few of his own. A fight at a table near the back nearly broke out, and Mitch immediately stood, ready to escort Genny out of the saloon if need be. But the men quickly settled down and a couple of light skirts swooped in to distract them, so Mitch relaxed. He was having fun after being cooped up with a female for so long. Even if Genny was pleasant company, even if she looked prettier and prettier every time he looked up.
It was near ten o’clock when Mitch decided to call it a night. He could tell Genny was starting to get sleepy and he figured he’d had enough of male company to last him until Omaha. When Genny saw
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