bed at night, otherwise she was going to have a long and lonely life. Not that he cared. He was only sorry that heâd wasted his time with her. Going to see her had been a mistake. Kissing her a bigger one.
Suddenly, he laughed out loud. His breath created a small cloud. He slapped his arms over his chest and walked faster. Kissing her hadnât been a mistake, it had been mighty pleasurable. Heâd wondered if anything had changed between them. Now he knew it hadnât. The passion, the fire, had still flared, and sheâd tasted as sweet as he remembered.
Just thinking about her yielding body pressing against his was enough to make his groin harden. Unfortunately, even the cold didnât ease the swelling. He hoped thoughts of their kisses were bothering her as much as they bothered him. He grinned. It had been worth it, thatâs for sure.
Justin walked around the back of the Bartlett General Store, then across the muddy street toward the sheriffâs office. He had to lock up for the night before he could head back to his hotel room. As he passed the saloon, he heard the familiar sound of music and yells of excitement. No doubt there were a couple of poker games going on inside. He should probably make an appearance, but his duties didnât officially start until the morning.
He paused across the street from the building and stared at it. This saloon was newer and larger than the smaller Golden Landing down the street. He made himself walk toward that one, wondering what it would cost him to go inside.
The old building hadnât changed. The worn sign still needed painting. Three panes of glass had been covered over by boards, so little light filtered onto the boardwalk. Upstairs the windows were dark. The women hadnât started their âhostessâ duties yet. It was early and most of the customers hadnât found their way to the saloon yet. Tinny piano music covered the sound of conversations and clinking glasses. Justin knew that in an hour or two the raucous noises would drown out the sound of the piano, and by ten oâclock, the man playing the instrument would give up. He knew the sights and sounds and smells of that saloon. The Golden Landing had been the first wooden building constructed in town. His mother had worked there for as long as he could remember.
Without trying to he could recall the sound of her weary footsteps on the stairs as sheâd climbed up to their room. Year after year sheâd worked washing glasses, serving customers, cleaning up after everyone had gone home. Time and time again sheâd been offered money to warm a manâs bed. With a growing boy to provide for, she must have been tempted to take the easy way out. But she hadnât. Sheâd kept their tiny room spotless, him in food and shoes. Every year heâd watched her grow weaker. Heâd quit school to work, but the extra money hadnât helped improve her cough, or changed the gray tinge to her skin.
He swallowed hard, fighting the memories. His mother had been a decent hardworking woman. But no one in Landing had cared. Sheâd worked in a saloon and hadnât married his father. That was all anyone had needed to know.
He turned away from the building and the past. As he had several times already that day, he wondered if heâd made a mistake by coming back. The idea of returning to Landing and making his peace with the town had sounded so easy. Now he wanted to forget heâd ever heard of the place. And Megan Bartlett.
Without trying, he could feel her body pressed against his and taste the sweetness of her mouth. Damn. Heâd never been able to resist her. He wouldnât have come back if heâd known she was here. Why hadnât she married and moved away? Now he was going to have to deal with the fact that heâd once offered his heart to her, exposed his most secret self and sheâd thrown all of it back in his face. Sheâd reminded
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