Read The Reluctant Hero for Free Online

you do?”
    â€œNah. Some have houses, wives, families.”
    She lifted her gaze. “So you don’t have a wife?”
    He shook his head. “Or a house. Or a family. And that suits me just fine.” He took his shirt off the peg on the wall and shrugged into it. “You had breakfast?”
    â€œThat’s a silly question. Where would I have breakfast this time of day when I’m staying in the hotel?”
    â€œGive me a minute of privacy, and I’ll fix you something.”
    Her gaze dropped to his shirttail, and he thought in the dim light that she was blushing again. Lord, she was sugar and vinegar, and both aspects intrigued him.
    She spun on her heel and walked away. He tucked his shirt into his trousers, cursing his thoughtless tongue that had offered to fix her breakfast. He didn’t want to give her any excuse to stay.
    Hell of it was, he had to admit that he didn’t want her to leave either.

Four

    He was in the habit of getting up before the sun to thwart any man intent on doing harm.
    â€”From Tex Knight Saves the Day
by Andrea Jackson

    Andrea had never started her day off with a warmed can of beans and black coffee so strong that even now she feared what it might be doing to her stomach. He’d apologized for not having sugar or milk to lessen its harshness. Or eggs. Or biscuit makings. Or flapjacks. Or syrup. Or jam. Or a second plate.
    He’d been gentlemanly enough to give her the solitary plate, chipped on one side, after scooping some beans onto it. He spooned his breakfast straight from the can.
    He was leaning back in his chair, his booted feet crossed on the corner of the desk, his spoon scraping the sides of the can. He placed what had to be the last of the contents into his mouth and closed his eyes as though he were in heaven.
    â€œNow, that’s the way to start the day,” he murmured, opening his eyes and tossing the can into a nearby empty box. He reached for his cup and took a long, slow swallow of the bitter brew, not grimacing once.
    She wondered what his stomach was made of. Iron maybe?
    He released a contented sigh, placed the cup on his stomach, and wrapped his hands around it. After a few moments, he sighed, took another sip, then went back to doing nothing.
    Andrea stood. “Where can I wash the plate?”
    He peered over at her as though he’d forgotten she was there. “Just put it on the stove. I’ll wipe it down later.”
    â€œWipe it down,” she muttered.
    â€œFeel free to pour yourself more coffee,” he offered.
    When they were throwing snowballs in hell.
    â€œThank you, but I don’t drink much in the morning.” She set her plate on the stove and proceeded to walk around the outskirts of the room. The more interesting items—the wanted posters—were tacked to the wall behind his desk. She walked to the cabinet that housed the rifles—locked up and secure.
    â€œWhy do you need so many rifles?” she asked.
    â€œIf I ever had a need to deputize any of the menfolk, I’d want to be able to provide rifles to those who needed ’em.”
    She peered over at him and arched a brow. “Menfolk? Why not deputize some ladies?”
    He scowled. “That doesn’t even deserve an answer.”
    â€œI’ve heard they have a woman serving on the police force in Denver.”
    His scowl deepened. “They’re just asking for trouble.”
    She scoffed. “You can’t be serious. Women have worked just as hard as men in settling the West.”
    â€œDo you know how to use a gun?”
    â€œNo, but I’m sure I could learn if I set my mind to it.”
    He shook his head and went back to staring at the empty cell on the other side of the room.
    â€œDo you know how to use a typewriter?” she asked.
    He snapped his head around. “A what?”
    â€œA typewriter. It’s a machine that allows you to press a button and a letter appears