The Man Who Loved Cole Flores (Dig Two Graves 1)

He needed to man up and do something before it was too late, but what did a useless lump of semi-attractive meat have to offer to a man who always went after the thing he wanted?

“Hello, handsome stranger. Haven’t seen you here before,” a woman asked, and the heat of her surprising touch had him flinching. Like him, she was a redhead, but no longer the kind of young filly Cole was speaking to close by. This one had full curves and the allure of a woman who’d seen a lot and wasn’t bothered by much. While Ned wouldn’t have called her smile genuine, her eyes shone, and her cheeks had a healthy flush, though he wasn’t sure how real it would have appeared in daylight.

“I’m from out of town.” Ned tried to focus on her while keeping an eye on Cole, but that was making him cross-eyed so he gave up. Her gown was loosely fastened around the waist with a wine-red sash, and her breasts have been exposed by the low neckline accentuated with a frill of lace.

Ned had exchanged words with the saloon girls of Beaver Springs, but it had never been quite like this, not in a place where his presence could only be explained one way. They both knew why a man might have come to the Red Lily, and the confidence in her eyes had him sweating and mute.

“Is this your first time? Don’t worry. You can be honest with me,” she drawled.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Ned sure as hell needed one.

“Sure, I’d love one, honey.”

She slipped her arm under his and led the way to a bar where she ordered them two whiskeys and introduced herself as Belle. Ned considered an alias, but got too nervous and said his real name. It wasn’t unique anyway, and there were surely at least two namesakes of his in town.

He didn’t waste time, and after making sure Cole hadn’t returned to the main parlor, drank his measure of booze in two big gulps, his mouth twisting as the alcohol burned his throat. Belle chuckled and dropped her dainty hand to his knee. “You’re a fast one.”

“And you’re—and I mean no offence by it, but… m’am, are you experienced in all matters men come here for?”

She had a lovely smile, despite the chipped tooth at the front. “You could say that, Ned,” she said, sipping whisky from her glass as if she knew not to be overly obscene with him. Had to come with experience.

“And whatever we do or talk about would stay between us? I would pay for your time of course.” Half of his brain was still more interested in where Cole was, but he had questions too embarrassing to discuss with the man he cared for so very much, and only a stranger in a strange town would do.

“Name your desire, and I’ll tell you how much that’ll drain your pocket. But only I will know,” Belle told him, and the narrow tip of her shoe rubbed the front of his shin as she finished the whisky. Ned tried not to stare, but the star-shaped scar on her cheekbone was identical to Cole’s, and that made his insides twist again. Who had marked them this way?

“I just have… questions. I would like to talk in private.”

Belle seemed unfazed, as if it wasn’t the first time she’d heard that from a customer. “Well, if those questions of yours turn into an attempt, it’s gonna cost you more. Always best to try what you learned in practice,” she said and squeezed his hand.

There would be no attempt, but her smile widened when he nodded. She held his hand as she led him through the parlor and up a wide flight of stairs cushioned with a red carpet. Her perfume had a nice, flowery scent with a bit of sweetness, but nothing could compare to the ylang-ylang he was so desperate to breathe again.

And her flesh? While soft and smooth, it didn’t move him the way it did most men, and he’d made peace with that. Her presence was his key to winning back the one he wanted and keep him from looking for his pleasures in a different bed.

Dull thumping and gasps could be heard from behind a door they passed, but Belle led him farther down the corridor, unmoved by the noises. The room she opened was simple, though with a bed of solid wood and surrounded by dense velvet curtains at the sides. A washbasin topped a small cupboard, and a wardrobe that surely contained Belle’s wardrobe stood nearby. As the door shut, Ned was too overwhelmed by the very knowledge of what happened in this room every single day to pay much mind to the interior.

“May I?” He showed her a cigarette and while she nodded with a smile, she didn’t demand one for herself. Too uncomfortable about the prospect of sitting on the bed where she was poked every day by a variety of strangers, Ned planted his rear on the windowsill instead. Heat swelled in his face as he pondered how to speak of the unmentionable, but she was a professional when it came to those matters, so he decided to be frank with her, as one should be with a doctor.