To Love A Texan. Georgina Gentry

a new start in the hotel business here.”

      He laughed and sipped his coffee. “The Lily is not exactly a hotel.”

      “So I’m now aware.” She set her jaw and glared at him.

      “So just where is this conversation headed, Miss Primm? We seem to be caught in a Mexican standoff here.”

      “A what?”

      He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “It’s Texas talk which is like no other in the world. It means we’re at loggerheads. What do you have in mind? It seems quite evident that we’d be unlikely partners.”

      “Me? A partner in a—a—?”

      “See? You can’t even say the word.” He grinned at her. “You should have accepted my generous offer and stayed in Boston.”

      “I wish I had,” she snapped back, “but I had no idea—”

      “But now you do, so my offer still stands—no, I’ll sweeten the pot.”

      “What?”

      “It’s a poker term. I’ll give you eleven thousand dollars if you let me buy you out and keep the Texas Lily and you go back to Boston.”

      She was nothing if not shrewd. “So what was worth ten thousand is suddenly worth eleven? Could it be worth even more than that?”

      He sighed and lit a cigar without even asking her permission. “Do not toy with me, Miss Primm. Take my money and go away. It’s a fair offer. Although I’ll have to borrow the money, it’s worth the extra thousand to get you out of my hair and out of town.”

      She coughed politely and waved a little lace hanky in front of her nose, but he seemed to pointedly ignore her as he continued to smoke. “If it’s worth that much to you, sir, perhaps it’s worth that much to me, although in good conscience, I cannot imagine running a—a—a bordello for a living.”

      “Oh, Lord,” he blew smoke in the air and looked skyward. “Lil McGinty, what were you thinkin’? I thought you liked me.” Then to Lillian, he said, “all right, Miss Primm, then you buy me out, and shut the place down.”

      “Are you insane? I don’t have ten thousand dollars.”

      “Ah, I thought we were talkin’ eleven? However, to break this partnership, I’d accept ten thousand and move on. No, I might even take nine thousand. I’ve been run out of better towns than Fort Floppett anyway.” He put his boots up on his desk and smiled at her.

      “I do not have even nine thousand dollars and I do not want to own a—a—” She still could not even bring herself to say the word.

      He smoked his cigar and grinned at her. “So you will accept the ten thousand and return to Boston.”

      “You said eleven.” She glared at him.

      “You are a tough one to deal with,” he smiled in grudging admiration. “All right, eleven. There’s an evenin’ train—”

      “No.” She said and glared back at him.

      “No? Did you say no?” Evidently, from his expression, the handsome rogue had never heard that word from a woman.

      “I said no. The Primms have a long history of resoluteness,” she snapped. “We do not run from adversity. We did not run in the Revolutionary War and we did not run when our dear President Lincoln—”

      “Oh Lord, I’d forgotten you are also a damned Yankee.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed.

      She was horrified. “Don’t tell me you stood with the South in the Rebellion—”

      “I served with Terry’s Texas Rangers and proud of it, right along with my cousin, Waco. Matter of fact, my Pa lost a leg at Shiloh.”

      She took a deep breath and decided on a different tack. This scoundrel was as stubborn and determined as she was. “I do not know what the answer to this conundrum is, Mr. O’Neal, but—”

      “This what?”

      “Conundrum.”

      He sighed. “A damned Yankee and a schoolteacher. I came up through the school of hard knocks, Miss Primm, as did your aunt.”

      She winced. “I am embarrassed by my aunt. I cannot imagine she needed money so badly that she would stoop to this.”

      He gave her a cold look. “You should live to be half as warm and generous as Lil McGinty. In Texas, we say don’t judge anyone until you’ve walked a mile in their boots.”

      “This is getting us nowhere, Mr O’Neal. I think we should arrange a meeting with this despicable lawyer who wrote the letter—”

      “Dewey?” He grinned. “He’s really a good old boy.”

      “I have another opinion of him—hotel indeed.” She sniffed. “I understand he is an acquaintance of yours so you’ll know how to contact him. Let us say about four o’clock this afternoon?”

      “On a Sunday?” He paused, cigar in mid-air. “I think Dewey is usually takin’ a nap or playin’ pinochle with Dimples and Pug on Sunday afternoons.”

      “Who? Never mind. Send him a message to forego his afternoon pleasures and we’ll meet at his office at four o’clock sharp. We’ll let him mediate this mess.” She stood.

      “What?”

      “Try to straighten it out.” She walked briskly to the doorway. “I shall see you in Mr. Cheatum’s office, which I presume is on Main Street. This problem must be resolved.”

      He sighed. “I was plannin’ on goin’ noodlin’ for catfish this afternoon afore supper.”

      “What?”

      “It’s a Southern thing,” he explained, “you dive down and feel along under the river bank until you stick your hand in and find a big catfish lyin’ under the bank in the mud where it’s cool. Then you grab him and toss him up on the bank. Last one I got weighed fifty pounds.”

      “It sounds dangerous and primitive.”

      “Just like me.” He grinned.

      “Well said. I could not agree more. Now good day to you, sir.”

      “Well, it was until you showed up,” he answered.

      “Humph!” And she went sailing out of his office, out the door and down the steps, fuming. Brad O’Neal was primitive, but she wasn’t certain how dangerous he was. The way the girls at his establishment had sighed and smiled at him, he certainly thought he was God’s gift to women. Well, this was one woman who was immune to his oily charm, even if he was a big, handsome man. Or at least some women might think so, Lillian sniffed as she got in the buggy and ordered the driver to return her to the fort. She was not going to let that rascal win this!

      Chapter Three

      Brad sighed, got up, and went to the window to watch the red-haired spinster marching down the front steps and into the buggy. “Lady, what am I gonna do about you?”

      Sadie came into the room behind him. “You talkin’ to somebody, Brad, honey?”

      He turned and looked at her. She had last night’s lip rouge smeared across her mouth and her neck looked dirty. She reeked of stale tobacco. Miss Primm had smelled of soap and her face had been shiny clean and scattered with freckles, rather undignified for a strait-laced schoolteacher. “Naw, Miss Primm just left.”

      Sadie laughed. “Ain’t she a hoot, though? Skinny, homely, and probably never had a man in her bed.”

      “You got that right,” Brad said, watching the buggy go up the driveway. “But there ain’t many girls that would go toe to toe with a man. She’s as stubborn as I am.”

      Sadie leaned