Page 42 of Native Hawk
“Twenty dollars,” Miss Hattie assured her, “same as before.”
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or apprehensive. She liked the handsome half-breed who made her laugh. But he couldn’t be paying her so much coin without an expectation of something more in return.
“Why?” she asked.
Miss Hattie’s laugh was like a bark. “Why? Because he’s sweet on you. That’s why.”
“What is this—sweet on you?”
“He’s got a hankerin’ for you.”
“Hankering?”
“A soft spot?”
Catalina shook her head. This American language was very difficult.
Miss Hattie sighed. “I think he likes you.”
Catalina scoffed at the idea. Yet part of her hoped it was true. If Drew Hawk liked her, maybe he would become her regular. Maybe she could buy that sewing machine sooner than she thought.
She put the dish away and hung up the drying cloth.
But even if he liked her, that didn’t mean she was going to throw aside her principles.
“I still will not make the sex with him,” she said.
“Suit yourself,” Miss Hattie replied, “though you could do worse than a man like Mr. Hawk. He’s a real gentleman.” She leaned closer and whispered. “If you’ve never had a man in that way before…”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’d like a gentleman like him to be your first. Trust me.”
Catalina didn’t really know what Miss Hattie meant. But she did know that she wasn’t going to have sex with a man, no matter how gentlemanly he was, unless they were joined in holy matrimony.
She grabbed the broom from the corner of the kitchen. Miss Hattie took it from her.
“Go on. I’ll finish up. He’s waitin’ in your room.”
“Now?” Catalina didn’t much care for a man making himself welcome in her bedroom, even if it was Drew. Who knew what he was rifling through?
“Go on, shoo.” Miss Hattie practically swept her out of the kitchen with the broom.
At the foot of the stairs, Catalina looked up at her room and gulped. Why she was nervous, she didn’t know. She’d already slept with him once, after all.
Maybe it was just that she’d put it behind her and didn’t expect to see him after this morning.
She let her eyes drift over to the bottle of whiskey sitting atop the bar. She wondered if she should take a stiff drink to brace herself.
“Per amor del cielo,”she muttered. For the love of heaven, she was being ridiculous.
Tonight was no different than last night. She would simply share the bed with him and say farewell in the morning. Besides, she was making ten more dollars.
She climbed the stairs, quickly untying her apron and tucking the stray curls of her hair back into their bun. She hesitated before her door and then straightened her shoulders and turned the doorknob.
Only at the last minute did she realize it was possible he’d taken off his clothes and would greet her in all his naked glory. But it was too late. She’d already opened the door.
He wasn’t naked. He was fully dressed. And he was pacing agitatedly across the floor.
