Free Patrick's Charm (The Bride Train, #2) by E.E. Burke Page A

wagon.
    Childers smoothed his hand over his hair, preening as she watched. “Think I’ll come back later so I can see you perform, Miss LaBelle. I bet you sing as pretty as a songbird.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Childers. I do hope you’ll make it back in time to see the show.”
    Logically, Patrick knew Charm was just being polite. But hearing her issue an invitation to Childers heaped fiery embers on the searing jealousy burning his insides.
    Charm belonged to him. The sooner he established that, the better.
    “You’ve got other deliveries to make. I’ll see you out the back.” Patrick took hold of the younger man’s beefy arm.
    Childers frowned when he couldn’t shake off the grip. “I’m in no hurry.”
    “Sure you are.”
    Arch kept his feet planted, the friendly smile fading. The muscles in his arm tensed.
    Patrick glanced at the knife. On second thought, a different approach might’ve been wiser.
    “Oh, Mr. O’Shea. I almost forgot. I have a favor to ask.” Charm glided over. The moment she laid her hand on his arm, it seemed something inside him unlocked, and his grip on the other man released.
    “Excuse me for interrupting...” She acted as if she hadn’t noticed they were about to come to blows. Except, her fingers trembled.
    “No, ma’am, you ain’t interrupting anything. I was on my out.” Childers adjusted his coat. With a careless smile, he touched his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Miss LaBelle, it’s been my pleasure. Until later.”
    As soon as the back door slammed shut, Charm turned with an icy glare.
    “What is wrong with you?”
    Patrick didn’t answer right off. Her question could be interpreted a number of ways. She could be referring to his jealousy, or to his stupidity, or to something else entirely.
    He made it to the bar without limping and stashed the lockbox in a drawer. His pride had already taken a beating when she stepped in and saved him from having to fight a man who might’ve whipped him. No, not might have. Defeat was a foregone conclusion. Childers had every advantage: health, strength, agility, and a damn big knife.
    “You should be careful who you accept rides from...” The moment the rebuke left Patrick’s lips, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.
    Charm’s eyes flashed with fury. “Mr. Childers behaved like a gentleman. You, on the other hand, are being an ass.”
    She applied the lash with more precision than the officer who’d flayed his bare back, a punishment for being drunk and disorderly. Hadn’t he learned anything since then?
    More restraint. That’s what he needed. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to stand by calmly while men drooled over his wife, something that was guaranteed to happen as long as she performed. His bad temper had gotten him into trouble too many times to count. He couldn’t let it chase off his good luck. That is, if he hadn’t already ruined his chance at talking Charm into marrying him.
    ***
    C harm applauded the restraint she showed by not walking over there and slapping Mr. O’Shea. The impertinent man had some nerve. How dare he rebuke her for accepting a ride when he hadn’t bothered to offer his assistance, and then foolishly antagonized the man who came to her aid? He all but challenged Mr. Childers to a fight by trying to drag him out the door.
    She shivered, rubbing at the chill on her arms. Had she not intervened, Mr. O’Shea might be sprawled out on the floor with a knife plunged into his chest. It could’ve happened. She’d seen fights spiral out of control, had witnessed men stabbed to death, shot, struck on the head with a chair, all because they couldn’t control their tempers. Or jealousy. That’s what appeared to have set him off, though she’d done nothing to provoke it.
    Unable to deal with the onslaught of emotions, she turned sharply and set off after her suitcases. Her skirts swirled, throwing bits of caked mud off the hemline, the result of her brief walk with suitcases in tow. Mr.