Little Red: An Everland Ever After Tale (5 page)

It felt far more
perfect
than a simple touch had any right to.

She was the one who snapped out of it first. Narrowing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she pulled her fingers from his, and then nodded smartly while he stood there staring like an idiot. Then, not meeting his eyes again, she swept past him towards the stairs, and he watched her backside sway under the gray wool.

Behind him, Theophilus Gunn cleared his throat just slightly. “You could’ve at least asked for adjacent rooms, Mr. Cutter.”

Hank cursed and stalked for the door without looking back. He needed a drink.

And a woman.

It was only later—after he’d sold both horses at Herb Waters’ livery, after he’d purchased one north-bound ticket and one east-bound ticket on tomorrow’s train, after he’d settled in at Bonnie’s with a whiskey and a parade of her fine-looking girls—that he’d realized he didn’t want just any woman. He wanted one with a cascade of dark red hair, and eyes that looked at him like he was her only hope, and lips that pouted when he teased. He wanted one that riled easy and forgave easy, who curled up on his lap to sleep trustingly. He wanted Red, and he barely knew the woman.

He was in trouble, alright.

That touch had been… disconcertingly wonderful. Rojita had barely slept, cradling her hand to her chest and thinking about the warmth and the sparks that had shot up her arm when Hank’s skin had brushed against hers. It was easy to curse this cold when it kept layers between them, but Rojita knew that it was for her own good. If she felt that way from an accidental touch, imagine what would happen if he actually held her hand?

Her body had reacted traitorously enough—waking up on top of him that morning—despite her best intentions to not trust him. But the feeling of his skin against hers was seriously endangering the calm and patience
Abuela
had tried to drum into her over the years. Rojita was beginning to suspect that life would be much more fun if she embraced her wild side.

It was that possibility that roiled her stomach enough so that she didn’t bother to venture down for dinner, and which kept her up half the night. Of course, it didn’t help that the bed seemed to aggravate all of her sore muscles, and no matter how she shifted, she couldn’t get comfy. Funny that; she’d slept fine draped on top of him, and curled up on his lap, but now that he wasn’t here…

Maybe it wasn’t so funny after all.

Abuela
always said that there was one person out there for everyone. Before they’d gotten married, Mary and Maria and Marian—her older “sisters” at the orphanage—had scoffed at grandmother’s claim as being nonsense. They’d said that marriage was about partnership, not love, and that they could be happy and practical at the same time. Judging from their letters, they all were… but Rojita had always been the girl who’d sat beside
Abuela
as she read to them from the old book of fairy tales, and had traced the beautiful paintings with one tiny finger, and imagined what it would be like to live in one of those stories. Rojita had never asked for a prince, though; she would’ve been happy with a simple woodcutter, as long as he was handsome and brave and strong and could love her with all of his heart.

Oh yes, she’d been fanciful when she’d been younger, and
Abuela
hadn’t helped either, with her stories about True Love and Happily Ever Afters. But she’d been married for close to forty years—and had endured so many hardships and adventures with
Abuelo
, just to remain together—that Rojita couldn’t help but be convinced, no matter what the other girls said. There
was
someone out there for everyone.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to find that One?

Rojita groaned and pulled the pillow over her face. She needed to stop thinking about all of this. The problem was, of course, that she couldn’t help it; meeting Hank had… She groaned again. He was
different
. He made her skin tingle and her heart speed up and her mind start thinking impossible thoughts. Impossible, because it was pretty obvious that he had a low opinion of her, what with the smirking and teasing and calling her foolish. He wanted nothing to do with her; the good Lord only knew what he would’ve done if she hadn’t offered him that outrageous—and false—sum to escort her to Everland! But he’d accepted, and he was here with her, and Lobo was still out there somewhere, and Rojita hadn’t eaten dinner.

By morning, she was just one big confused ball of emotion—fear, anticipation, nervousness, desire, all roiling inside her stomach. Oh, and hunger too, which was the most pressing concern at this moment. Still, she paced in her room long after the sun came up, not sure if she should go down alone, or if Hank would be coming for her, or if he was expecting her to meet him someplace. By nine o’clock, however, her hunger was pressing enough to make her decision for her, and she washed and headed down the lovely staircase.

The stately older man from last night—Hank had called him Mr. Gunn—escorted her to a table in the dining room. Just being here made Rojita nervous; this was a finer place than any she could’ve imagined. If Hank hadn’t paid for her room last night, there’s no way she could’ve afforded to stay here. And eating here? No, this fine restaurant, with the fancy table settings and the matching chairs and the bustling people in actual matching uniforms wasn’t for her.

But she was here, and Mr. Gunn was hovering expectantly beside her. Was he waiting for something? Was she supposed to tip him or something? Swallowing, Rojita glanced up at him, and he gave her a kind grin; there were other people in uniforms waiting on the other tables, but Mr. Gunn was focused only on her. “What would you like for breakfast, miss?”

She had a
choice
? At Spratt’s Eatery in Everland, the best you could hope for was that Mrs. Spratt had made something you enjoyed, because everyone got the same food. This elegant place gave choices, though, and that would be fine for her limited budget.

“Just some toast please. And a cup of tea, maybe?”

“Toast?”
Tsk
ing, the old man shook his head. “No, that won’t do. You’ve obviously had a bit of an adventure, and you’ll need something substantial to prepare yourself for your next journey.” He winked. “Especially if Mr. Cutter will be going along with you.”

She could feel her cheeks heating up, and resisted the urge to fiddle with the lovely white tablecloth. Mr. Gunn’s comment wouldn’t be so embarrassing if he hadn’t seen her acting like a complete ninny yesterday, when she accidentally touched Hank. Or if he hadn’t irritated Hank when he’d asked about the number of rooms, although Rojita still wasn’t sure what that was about. Or if she didn’t have to confess the truth now.

But there was no use for it;
Abuelo
had always taught her to meet her problems head-on, and that no good ever came from dilly-dallying. Sure, that philosophy might’ve gotten her into some trouble in the past—like heading out of Marston on a horse she’d just stolen—but it was also the best way to deal with understandings. So she forced her hands into her lap, sat up straight, looked Mr. Gunn in the eye, and tried to emulate Marian’s haughty demeanor.

“I will be fine, sir. At the moment, I am low on funds, and toast will be sufficient.”

There wasn’t a trace of pity in his expression when he waved away her objection. It was a little disconcerting, after she’d worked herself into the tragic heroine role. “Don’t be silly, miss. Breakfast is included with your room fee.” He bowed slightly and headed for a door. Rojita’s eyes narrowed, wondering if breakfast was included in
everyone’s
room fee, or just hers, and how she felt about taking charity.

When the food emerged, she decided that she felt pretty good about taking charity, after all. It was a delicious spread, and there wasn’t a single bean on the plate, but there
were
two sugar cookies, which were her favorite. She ate absolutely everything, not caring that she was being unladylike; she was hungry.

After, she felt better. Fuller, definitely, and more… confident. Ready to face the day, and to face
him
. With
El Lobo
out there, after grandfather’s will, she couldn’t afford to be distracted by a pair of
café con leche
eyes and that warm caramel voice. Especially since they belonged to a man who obviously didn’t think much of her to begin with… and who made her stomach clench and her breath hitch when he touched her.

Oh drat
, she was doing it again; getting herself all worked up, thinking about his touch and
Abuela
’s stories about finding The One. Rojita forced herself to breathe deeply, and after she’d settled her red cloak around her shoulders, she figured that she was prepared to see him without acting like a complete ninny again.

She was wrong. The moment she saw him, leaning against the desk and speaking to Mr. Gunn and two other men, she stumbled over her foot. Why in the world would just the
sight
of him—he was facing away from her, and without the thick coat he’d been wearing yesterday, his backside really was worth looking at, wasn’t it?—make her throat dry.
Drat
, she wasn’t nearly as composed as she’d thought.

Unfortunately, Mr. Gunn noticed, and nudged the well-dressed man standing beside him. When he turned and flashed a smile in her direction, Hank turned too, and she almost groaned. Whereas Mr. Gunn’s companions—the man who dressed like a dandy and the younger man in leg braces beside him—looked welcoming enough, Hank was stoic, as usual. He didn’t have a welcoming smile; he didn’t even look pleased to see her. No matter what nonsense
Abuela
had drummed into her about everyone finding The One for them, Hank Cutter wasn’t hers.

Well, there was nothing for it; she was going to have to go over there and meet these men and face
him
and maybe touch him and
oh look
, Hank wasn’t wearing any gloves either. She managed not to roll her eyes at how ridiculous her thoughts sounded, and marched towards the desk.

“Miss Zapato, it’s so nice to meet you.” The dark-haired gentleman took her hand and actually gave a little bow over it. Rojita’s eyes widened at the courtesy, but couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t feel a single frisson from his touch. “I’m Charlie Garrett, and this is my friend Franklin Haskell.” She nodded her hellos, wondering if the younger man was related to the town’s founder. “Mr. Cutter here has been telling us all about you.”

She had to close her eyes briefly on the dread.
All
about her? About her recklessness and the way he’d saved her and then she’d curled up on top of him and gone to sleep? All of it? Her cheeks heated again, and she knew that she was blushing dark enough to match her hair. Still, she had to be polite, so she managed to choke out a “Very nice to meet you, sir.”

He had a nice smile, and was obviously trying to put her at ease. It didn’t quite work, because Hank was still standing there looking impassive. He shifted slightly so that he stood over her left shoulder, and she could
feel
him there. Remembering how nice it had been yesterday when he’d put his hand at the base of her back, to lead her into the hotel, Rojita resisted the urge to lean back into his warmth.

“Hank tells us that he’s putting you on the train today for Everland, and that you’re in a bit of a rush.” Wait,
putting you on the train
implied that he wasn’t going with her. “Are you sure that you’ll be okay in Everland?”

“Of course,” she answered distractedly, already turning towards Hank. “I’ll be safe there.
You
—“ she pointed at Hank’s chest, “Agreed to take me there yourself.”

He shrugged. He actually
shrugged
, as if she didn’t matter one bit to him. “I didn’t really agree.”

She took a few steps backward, gasping. “You did. I offered you a hundred dollars—“

“And I never actually said I’d take you anywhere, Red. We both had to get to Haskell, so I figured I’d get you here and stick you on the train home.”

Mr. Garret tried to interrupt. “When you say that you’ll be safe, do you mean—“

Rojita ignored him. “You’re not going to take me to Everland?” She couldn’t decide if she was angry or hurt, but something must’ve shown, because he actually winced. Oh fine, a reaction finally, just when she’d given up on him.

“Look, honey, it’s best for both of us if—“

“Don’t you call me
honey
, Hank Cutter.” A few more steps backwards, but even being halfway across the lobby wasn’t helping her peace of mind. He hadn’t planned on taking her to Everland, after all. He wanted so little do with her that he was just going to stick her on a train and wish her good luck. He’d probably been counting down the hours ‘til he could get rid of her. “I’m not your honey!”

“You most certainly are not.”

The voice was deep and gravelly and coming from behind her. Judging from the dangerous look in Hank’s eyes when they flashed over her shoulder, she wasn’t going to like whoever stood there.

It was
El Lobo
. Today just wasn’t going well, was it?

She recognized him from Salt Lake City, when he’d accosted her and tried to get her to give him the will. But her grandfather’s letter with the warning had also been quite explicit; he’d described the gunslinger as “feral”, and it fit him in an odd way. He was dressed well, in a vest and short jacket despite the cold, his gray hair slicked back and his mustache waxed. A long Colt revolver—with what looked like pearl inlays gleaming on the handle—was tied to his right hip, like he was showing it off. He probably thought his smile was charming, but it revealed unnaturally pointed teeth. And his eyes—they were feral. Hard and sharp and glittering like glass shards, and they looked through Rojita like she was nothing at all.