Free Beautiful Bad Man by Ellen O'Connell

think eyes could change like that.”
    “They didn’t change. It was an overcast day, and I.... You didn’t get a good look is all.”
    He made a sound of disbelief. “Your eyes aren’t all that’s different. You’re still too skinny, but you look good. I always knew the Girl would be pretty.”
    She opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t think of a thing to say. Was he making fun? She decided to pretend he hadn’t said it, but the floaty feeling came back, just a little.
    “Do you know I’ve never eaten in a restaurant before? I don’t know what to do.”
    “All you have to do is eat. You’ve never been any place to eat? Not even back where you came from?”
    “Baltimore. Papa did, and he took Mama sometimes, but my sisters and I never went.”
    “In cities they have restaurants ten times this big with white cloths on the tables and chandeliers overhead, but this isn’t bad for Hubbell.”
    “It’s nice. Kind of cozy really, and oh, does that mean we can choose?” She tipped her head toward the large slate board hanging on the wall beside the open door to the kitchen. Chicken, beef, pork were written there, one below the other.
    “Usually. Sometimes they forget to erase if they run out of something. Remember, Tommy back there is some behind you as a cook.”
    “There were lumps in my gravy tonight.”
    “There are lumps in his every night.”
    She laughed, glad to be free and away from the Tindells, amused by the covert glances at Caleb from two young women across the room. Curiosity provoked those glances. And envy. Scary or not, he was handsome in a dangerous way. Light from the nearest lamp picked out gold glints in his hair and in the two-day beard growth covering the lean cheeks and jaw.
    The gun belt over gray wool trousers emphasized his lean hips, and the blue flannel shirt did the same to his shoulders. Or maybe the clothes had nothing to do with it. Other men in the small restaurant sported suits, white shirts, and collars with ties. Compared to Caleb Sutton they all looked tame and — ordinary.
    Tonight she didn’t care if he was one of Webster Van Cleve’s hired killers and should probably be in prison. She was out in the night. He’d said she was pretty and a good cook, and once long ago he had been the Boy.
    Tommy’s cooking was as advertised. One side of her pork chop was black, and both the mashed potatoes and the gravy over them were lumpy.
    Norah hardly noticed. Unlike Joe, who always ate with single-minded devotion to his food, Caleb showed a sociable streak.
    “Did the old bat give you a hard time about coming out tonight?”
    “She’s not that bad. She was — nosy.”
    “She’s afraid you’re meeting some beau and might be on your way to remarrying, and she’d lose you.”
    Norah paused, fork in midair. She decided to ignore the beau part. “She’d rather have notice so she could go straight from me to someone new, but she wouldn’t mind losing me. She’s used to unsatisfactory help and having to find replacements.”
    “You’re not unsatisfactory. Tindell’s telling everyone in his saloon they should place their bets months further on. He likes your cooking, and she admits you’re the best worker they ever had.”
    “I don’t believe it. She never said anything like that.”
    “Of course not. You might want more money.”
    “She’s paying me ten dollars a month.”
    His brows went up slightly. “That is pretty good. Have they got you eating their leftovers?”
    “You shouldn’t believe the worst of everyone. I cook enough for all of us, and I set mine aside before I serve. I’m eating like royalty.”
    “Better than this then.”
    “Better food, but eating alone in the kitchen... I like this, Caleb. Thank you for bringing me here.”
    “No one’s called me Caleb for a long time. Just Cal.”
    “Oh, I shouldn’t call you either. Mr. Sutton. I’m sorry.”
    “Given names are fine with me. After all we have history.”
    Still flustered, Norah