She turned around to glare at him, ignoring his laughter.
"Well, if you were a gentleman, you would have given up the bed last night as I requested.” Her hands went to her hips, defiantly.
"I would have. If it was to a lady."
She was silent at first, registering the insult.
She responded a little late, but in kind. “I am a lady. Pig.” She turned her back in a huff and stomped over to the kitchen table and chairs. She sat down with a flurry of skirts and put her elbows on the table so she could hold her head in her hands.
This was never going to work if they couldn't get along. Vincent threw the bedcovers aside and walked across the room in his shorts to get his pants. He pulled them on, one leg at a time. Not quite sure of what to say, or if it was even possible to start over.
He knew enough women over the years to know that women could hold grudges forever, and this one seemed to be prone to temper tantrums. Another reason things could never work out between them. She was too immature for him.
"Look, I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot."
She glared back up at him. “Wrong foot? We are way beyond that. How can I trust you if I am going to wake up with your hands all over me in the morning?” A crimson blush spread across her face and then down her neck.
"You can trust me. I didn't touch you, did I? You still have your innocence,” he said in frustration.
"You mean you didn't? And that we didn't ... Thank God!"
"No. You can be sure that you would remember it in the morning if we did, sugar. You would still be feeling it,” he said in a cocky voice.
"Well that will never happen,” she said arrogantly.
"Never say never, sugar. You could learn a few things from me.” He smiled. He would enjoy teaching her all the lessons of being a lover. It would be a challenge to raise her passions to a frenzied level of desire. To hear her begging him to fuck her. He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs a little as he felt himself swell at the thought.
Perhaps he should be seducing her. He looked at her as if for the first time. Watching as she backed up a step, acting suddenly nervous at the direction the conversation had taken. The predator in him surfaced too quickly.
Vincent didn't want to upset her any further. So he tried another tactic. His voice was suddenly kind, his manner less threatening. “I am sorry about you losing your father, by the way."
"Don't be. I really didn't know him. He left my mother when she was pregnant.” Her biting tone denoted a wound that had never healed.
Christ. He wanted to give her a hug. His chest was tight as he watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat, avoiding his gaze. She was still hurting inside after the man who did this to her was long dead.
"Buster wasn't a bad guy. He always talked about how when he made it big he was going to take care of you."
"Well, he never did. All he did was chase a pipe dream. And you,” she motioned towards Vincent, “are just as bad. What kind of life is this? Do you want to be digging in a mine your entire life?"
"It's not a bad life, sugar, and your father wasn't a bad man.” He padded across the floor to the kitchen area. Loading up the stove with some wood, he prepared the fire to make breakfast. He pulled a ceramic bowl off a shelf and a wooden spoon off a hook on the wall to make the biscuits.
* * * *
Observing him prepare the morning breakfast had to be the strangest thing she'd ever seen. Most men she knew wouldn't survive long without a woman to take care of his house and feed his stomach. Clearly, Vincent had been looking after himself for a long time. Long enough to learn how to fend for himself and how to cook.
Barbara looked on in amazement as he used the spoon to drop blobs of dough onto the iron skillet before shoving the pan in the oven. The smell of sizzling bacon filled up the small cabin. Suddenly she realized how hungry she was. She had not eaten anything since yesterday morning. Saliva pooled in her mouth; her hunger made her feel a little friendlier towards him.
"That smells wonderful."
"Thanks,” he replied, keeping his attention on the cooking. It wasn't long before he slid a plate in front of her. Biscuits and gravy never looked so good, but she had never been this hungry.
Greedily she dug her fork in and took a bite of her breakfast. The biscuits seemed to just melt in her mouth. “Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Waverly."
Vincent smiled, watching her eat. “Call me Vincent. If we are going to be partners, we may as well become friends."
"Partners? I think you, are mistaken. I am not looking for a partner. I just want to sell my share of the claim and get out of here."
"Honey, you aren't selling your share unless you sell my share too."
"Then I will buy you out so I can sell. How much do you want?"
His gaze raked her over, suggesting his price would mean more than money. “You couldn't afford my price. You best just get used to the idea that we will be working together, and you will continue to work as long as you want to eat around here.” He cocked his head slightly, “You ever worked panning for gold before?"
"No, but how hard can it be?"
Vincent didn't answer her question, and the way he was looking at her ... It made her feel like a hungry wolf was watching her. It did something to the pit of her stomach that she wasn't sure that she liked.
"I'll show you how to work the mine and afterwards we can go visit your father's grave if you like."
"His grave?"
"That is, if you want to. I figure you would like to say your goodbyes."
"Sure. My goodbyes. Maybe we can schedule another time to go to the grave, but I don't want to go right now.” Barbara wasn't sure she wanted to see his grave. She still felt so angry with the man that called himself her father. Hated him for what he had done, and even seeing him dead wouldn't make her feel any better about him.
"All right, if that is the way you feel about it, we will do it another time.” His voice was quiet and reserved, as if he didn't want to drop the subject but knew it would be a good time to let it go.
She finished the last bit of food on her plate, breaking the awkward silence with a compliment. “I have heard that a man's stomach is the way to his heart, but I think perhaps it may be the same for a woman."
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Chapter Five
Barbara took one look at the mining equipment and gave a sigh of disgust. This wasn't the gold mine she expected. She thought she would be going inside a mine today. Inste
ad he brought her to a spot on the river with a pile of shovels and some wooden contraption that was half in and half out of the water. A pile of miscellaneous tools, buckets, and a few pans sat on the banks of the river.
"What is that?” She pointed to the odd machine, curling up her top lip. It looked as if it had been built from scrap bits of lumber and held together by chicken wire and a few nails for good measure. The contraption looked like it had been so used over the years that it could fall apart at any moment.
"That is how we make our living, darling. That is called a sluice, and is much faster than panning for gold by hand."
"Oh.” She was a little confused how it worked, but didn't want to look stupid by asking too many questions, either. “I thought you were taking me to a mine."
"This is it, darling. You ready to get to work?"
"I guess so.” She tried to sound confident, but she really wasn't so sure she was ready for this. It wasn't the first time she asked herself what she really knew about mining for gold.
"Good.” He picked up a shovel and thrust it at her. She took it and watched as he showed her how the machine worked. He used the other shovel to lift dirt off the riverbank and drop it onto the machine. He did this several more times, before stopping to pick up a bucket and fill it with water. He dumped the water over the dirt and then used the handles to shake the debris. Barbara watched in amazement as the dirt sifted through. The rocks and larger debris were separated out first, then another screen got out smaller objects. The lightest material was the last to be sorted through. Vincent did this for a few minutes before finally examining what was left.
He pointed to a small flake of gold and smiled. “See that?"
"What? I don't see anything."
He shook his head and pulled a small glass vial that he had held from a string around his neck, and put the flake inside the bottle. “It may not be much, but it is gold. We are close to something here. I can feel it. This came from upstream a bit and made its way down here. We just have to find the right spot and we will be richer than you can imagine."
"Flakes of gold aren't going to make either of us rich."