Texas Hold Him by Lisa Cooke

twinkle.
    “I think we should step into this restaurant,” he said. “I just heard a beast growl, and I fear for our safety in the street.”
    So much for hopes of his temporary deafness. “Atrue gentleman would not point such a thing out to a lady.”
    He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “Perhaps we should trade lessons. I’ll teach you poker, and you teach me how
     to be a gentleman.”
    “Do you really wish to learn?”
    His lips parted, and his lashes lowered in an expression she’d already come to recognize as trouble. “What do you think?”
    Simply put, that was the trouble. When he looked at her like that, thinking became complicated. “I . . . I think we should
     eat.” Brilliant. Toby Flanders would be proud.
    His parted lips broke into a smile. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
    He escorted her into the establishment and to a small table in the corner. A red checkered cloth covered the top, and two
     perky daisies in a glass vase sat in the center. The restaurant was remarkably crowded given the time of afternoon. Evidently,
     this was the place to eat lunch when shopping in Natchez.
    A waitress came to the table and spoke to Dyer. “The special today is fried chicken, if y’all are interested.”
    Dyer glanced at Lottie, who nodded in approval. “The lady would like the special, and I’ll have a piece of apple pie and some
     coffee.”
    “You don’t want lunch?” the girl asked.
    “I, uh, already ate.”
    Lottie’s face flushed. How could she have forgotten he’d already eaten?
She
had served him. “Mr. Straights, we don’t need to eat if you’d like to go ahead and shop—”
    He waited for the waitress to leave. “Miss Mace, I’mtrying to be a gentleman.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “Did I do something wrong?”
    “Not yet,” she said, prying her tongue from the roof of her mouth, “but the day is young.”
    Dyer couldn’t remember the last time he’d escorted a lady into town. The women he entertained on the boats were there for
     one purpose and one purpose only . . . and shopping was not that purpose. Surprisingly enough, he found himself smiling more
     today than usual. Maybe he should shop more often.
    He escorted Lottie to a modiste shop near the restaurant.
    “Do they have cards in here?” she asked as he opened the door.
    “No. I’ll find those across the street, but I thought you’d enjoy shopping here while I go to the gentlemen’s store. Ladies
     don’t usually frequent Flannery’s.”
    She made a pretty little ‘oh’ shape with her mouth and stepped into the shop. Bolts of textiles in every color imaginable
     lay on tables and peeked from shelves around the walls of the room. Several women milled about, chatting excitedly about the
     new shipment as they looked at fabrics and ribbons.
    “I’ll be back shortly,” he said to Lottie, but he might as well have spoken to the wall. She’d already made a beeline to a
     bolt of blue satin.
    He smiled and shook his head, then turned, nearly colliding with a gentleman and his lady friend as they came through the
     door.
    Dyer stepped to the side so they could enter and had almost made it outside when he heard the man say, “I know you. You’re
     a saloon girl from the
Magnolia Belle
riverboat. Since when do they let the likes of you into a respectable establishment like this?”
    The shop fell silent. Dyer spun back toward Lottie. Her face turned ashen, and her lower lip quivered in an unspoken response.
     He rushed across the room.
    “Miss Mace?” He hoped none of the others would realize he’d just escorted her into the shop. “How good to see you again. I
     was just thinking of your father this morning and wondered if the ambassador was well.”
    She blinked once and swallowed. “He—he’s fine. Good of you to ask.”
    “I wasn’t aware you had returned from Europe. A good trip, I trust?”
    She managed a shaky nod. “Yes, thank you.”
    Dyer turned to the man