Free Kaitlin's Silver Lining by Ciara Gold Page A

her
comeuppance, he had a better understanding of the long-term effects of Farley’s
childish retaliation. “You pay me to handle problems, but you also pay me for
advice. Your actions the other day may have cost you votes. There are quite a
few men sympathetic to women’s rights, and they won’t stand by and watch while
you degrade and humiliate the force behind this movement.”
    “Then we’ll try other
tactics. Since you seem to have all the answers, you take care of it. I want
these marches against my saloons stopped. It’s one thing for them to target a
well established bar, but we open the Thirsty Sailor tonight, and I don’t want
a scene to mar its grand opening.”
    “And the other
matter? Do you still want me to pursue it?”
    Farley narrowed his
eyes so thin, they were almost lost in the folds of his pudgy face. “More than
ever. She has something I want, need. Running for office will deplete my
funds.”
    “Taking care of this
matter will likely take care of the suffragists as well,” James replied, his
thin lips grinning in a conniving way. The thumb of his left hand played
absently with the gold band encircling his pinky finger. The subconscious habit
helped solidify his thoughts.
    “The election for
governor is coming up, and I want that spot. You said it yourself. A lot of men
are sympathetic to these women. We need to turn their attentions from suffrage
by discrediting the women behind the movement.”
    James listened with
half an ear as Farley explained what he wanted done. For an educated pillar of
society, Farley Kaufmann’s stupidity had a way of slipping through the cracks
of his intellect. From James’s viewpoint, Farley’s plan was doomed to failure
before it even started. Shaking his head, he retrieved paper and pen. Ink
flowed freely as he penned the note he would see delivered the next day. He
would allow Farley’s plan to go through, but he had plans of his own, plans
that would get the desired results much faster. For Farley it was all about
money. For James, it was personal.

Eight
     
     
    Wet, warm, silky. The
sensation slid down his throat, stroking his bruised ego with tantalizing
fingers. The bucking finale hit the center of his belly, obliterating the
disappointment of finding Emma engaged. He slammed the glass down and wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand.
    “A good shot of
whiskey is like a woman’s sweet body. It wraps you in heat and explodes in your
insides like a thousand bucking broncs.” Bryce raised his glass high and
toasted the painting of a full-figured nude hanging behind the bar. He smiled,
pleased with his metaphorical comparison.
    “Here’s to whiskey.
She’ll always be true and less likely to kick you where it really hurts.” A man
beside him tossed down another shot.
    Bryce chuckled. He
wasn’t drunk. Yet. He had another half bottle to go before that lethargic state
would render him unconscious. A buxom barmaid sidled up to him, picked up his
bottle, and poured him another drink. Her seductive expression should have
soothed his heart, but he only felt disgust. He turned away from the
invitation. “Ain’t in the mood, sweetheart. This here bottle is the only thing
I want seducing me tonight. It’s less complicated that way.”
    She shrugged. “Suit
yourself, cowboy. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
    The man next to him
elbowed him with good-natured intent. “Woe. Wish a looker like that would rub
up to my ugly carcass. That’s the third offer you’ve had this evening. What’s
your secret?”
    Bryce raised one
brow. “Forlorn hurt.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Women can’t stand to
see a man they think is hurtin’, especially if they think he’s hurtin’ from a
broken heart.”
    “And are you?”
    “I reckon.” Bryce
stared into his glass. Was he? Did his heart ache or was it his ego? He’d
suffered acute embarrassment for getting all gussied up like a king of hearts
and didn’t much like making a fool of