He pulled out the little pot of salve Doc told him to apply once a day. “You seem to know your way around women. What do you think ladies will think about my scar? Ugly, or a promise of excitement?”
Cole put the metal pot at the edge of the fire and met Ned’s gaze, his hands ripping a small loaf into halves. “Since when do you care? I thought you wanted to wait for that fair maiden who steals your heart,” he said, and threw Ned his part of the bread.
Ned leaned forward to catch it, but it dropped into the dirt, which filled him with increasing frustration. At his uncle’s, he’d learned keeping his head down was the surest way to stay afloat, but the two weeks with the Gotham Boys taught him that asserting his place in the group required a strong backbone. And at times—fists.
“I’m asking for the future.”
“Oh, is there someone who caught your eye?” Cole asked, and it was impossible to tell from the tone of his voice whether he was more curious or annoyed.
“That Tessa girl. She seems to always have an additional biscuit for me in the morning. Nice girl. I’m not ready for anything just yet, but who knows in a year or two.”
Cole ripped some of the spongy bread and packed it into his mouth, his gaze fixed on the fire. “So what is it that you want to know? Bedding techniques?”
“Any tricks to it? Bet you know them all.” Ned smiled and teasingly threw a rock at Cole’s knee. With those black eyes and handsome face, Cole could have any girl he wanted, even though recently he’d have forgone them all.
Cole took a deep breath and crossed his ankles. His hair remained tangled from sleep, but no imperfection could ruin the effect his striking features and smooth voice had on people. Ned held his breath when Cole spoke.
“Once you’ve kissed her all over, pull up her skirts and put her fingers on your prick. She should know what to anticipate. Holding her hand, guide it up and down, how you like it. Make her want it, and she’ll be hot, and wet, and sweet.”
His whisper dropped until it was barely louder than the crackling of the fire, but his dark eyes burned hotter than those flames, drawing Ned in with their glow.
And yet, where Ned expected the atmosphere to become rowdy because of the obscene topic, the air instead thickened with anticipation. The way Cole spoke, one might think he was in bed with his imagined sweetheart already.
“Do you…” Ned swallowed, ready for mockery. “Do you often feel so intensely drawn to a woman?”
Cole squeezed his fingers, the bread forgotten on a flattened canvas bag he’d spread in front of him. “When a woman touches my skin, she wards off my thirst. But it always comes back. It can’t be satisfied,” he said, gaze pinning Ned in place.
Sink or swim. Cole would either laugh at him, or appreciate the honesty. Ned took his time breaking one of the eggs as he wondered how to put his thoughts into words. “I… don’t seem to have that fire. That lust men can talk about all day and night. Maybe it has something to do with me seeing my mother violated long ago, but while I can tell if a woman is pleasing to the eye or not, I’m not enticed to touch her.” His cheeks burned with shame. He’d told Cole something excruciatingly intimate, but he needed to establish trust, and while he could have made up a story, it didn’t feel right to do so. Only honesty would do.
Cole went silent, playing with a blade of grass he’d picked off the ground. “I’m sorry about your mother.”
Ned shrugged. “Maybe the scar on my face deters female affection and I end up a bachelor. Some men seem to do just fine that way.”
The coffee simmered, and Cole pulled it away from the fire, holding the pot with a hand wrapped in his black bandana. He said nothing as he poured the beverage into two cups, and by the time Ned received his, his stomach crawled with ants that were about to devour his guts. At least Cole hadn’t spat into his drink.
“A man should be judged on his merits, not the way he chooses to live his life or with whom,” Cole said, as if he’d been thinking it over that entire time.
Tension eased in Ned when he smelled the coffee and drank some of the bitter liquid that warmed his insides. “I’m thinking that once I earn enough money, I’d like to go to California. Always sunny there, they say. I’d have the nest egg to start a business. Horses, a shop with tack maybe. Far away from expectations and hardship. How about you?”