Lauri Robinson - The Bootlegger's Daughter

Ty could be a revenue man. When the prohis couldn’t find anything, they’d send in a revenue man, looking for tax evasion. They’d find no tax evasion at the resort, either. Every dime was accounted for. She saw to that personally. The government hadn’t planned very well. What they’d lost in tax dollars gained by the legal sale of alcohol, they were trying to make up with income taxes. Along with new taxes came new tax lawyers, and the resort paid several to keep abreast of every law that appeared.

Prohibition had changed the world, in some ways for the better, as with Norma Rose’s new life at the resort, and in other ways for the worse. The problem she saw was that the law hadn’t done what it had initially set out to do. Based on the Temperance movement, which blamed all of society’s problems on the consumption of alcohol, Prohibition was to change all that. That sure hadn’t happened. Crime was more rampant than ever. The law didn’t say anything about the consumption of alcohol, either. It focused on the sale, transportation and manufacturing. All a person needed was a prescription and they had better access to alcohol than when saloons had lined the streets of every town.

Norma Rose didn’t like the idea of breaking any laws, but Prohibition created a society where even the average person broke the law. She didn’t like that, either, but, more importantly, she’d never go hungry again.

Lost in her little world of what she’d do if anyone would ever listen to her, Norma Rose didn’t hear the door open. When she glanced up, the ink pen between her fingers snapped in two.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I knocked, but—”

“You didn’t startle me,” she interrupted, trying to get air to settle in her lungs as she stared at Ty Bradshaw.

“I didn’t?”

His gaze was on her hands, and she quickly looked down. Blue ink covered her white gloves, and the pad of paper full of her notes. A quick swipe at the pool trickling out of the pen smudged the entire sheet.

“Oh, good heavens,” she growled.

“Here, let me help you.”

“No.” She pushed her chair noisily across the floor as he rounded her desk. “I don’t need any help.”

“Well, you certainly don’t want to touch anything.” Ty lifted the pad and carefully set it on the corner of her desk. Spinning back around, he grasped one of her wrists.

She tried to pull away, but his hold was too firm.

“I’ll just take this glove off, you can do the other one,” he said, already peeling the cuff over her wrist. “Do you always wear gloves this early in the morning?”

Norma Rose didn’t answer. It was none of his business when she wore gloves. She managed to snatch her hand away before he pulled the glove all the way over her fingers. His nearness, and touch, had her heart beating inside her throat.

After peeling off both gloves, she held them carefully, not wanting to get any ink on her dress. Her hands were now blue, covering the red line of scars across her knuckles from her days of bleaching linens.

“We can talk later,” Ty said, stepping away from her desk. “It’s obvious you need to go and wash.”

She definitely wanted to go, but curiosity made her ask, “Talk about what?”

“Your father wants me to go over a few things with you,” he answered, on his way to the door.

“What things?”

Chapter Four

Ty held the door open and gestured for her to walk ahead of him. Norma Rose bit down hard on her frustration, struggling to keep everything concealed from his penetrating stare. She wanted to know what her father had talked with him about, was furious he’d ruined one of her best pairs of gloves and was more than a little perturbed that he had to look so stupidly handsome and at ease when he was clearly not welcome.

Staunchly, she refused to take a step.

He lifted a brow. “I’d think you’d want to get those gloves soaking. They’ll soon be stained for life. Might already be.”

“Don’t worry about my gloves,” she said, even though the blue ink was soaking into her skin and starting to itch.

“I’m not worried about your gloves,” he said, stepping toward the open doorway. “I was hoping to talk to you before breakfast, but I guess it can wait.”

He walked out the door and Norma Rose scrambled around her desk to catch up. “Talk about what?” she asked again, trying her best to sound only half-interested.

He glanced up and down the hall and lowered his voice. “It’s a private matter. But don’t worry, it can wait. I’ll go see if the breakfast I ordered for Gloria is done yet and deliver it to her.”

Instantly peeved, Norma Rose stated, “I’m not worried, and I’ll go see to Gloria’s breakfast and one for Dave.”

The hand he laid on her arm had the sting of a hot curling iron.

“Dave’s not up to eating yet,” he said. “He’s still throwing up every two hours.”

The shiver that rippled down her spine couldn’t be contained, not even when she held her breath.

“You go soak your gloves,” he said condescendingly.

Her arm was on the verge of going numb, while her insides started to steam. She tugged her arm from his hold and, head up, strolled down the hallway.

He followed, which had Norma Rose holding her breath at the commotion happening inside her. The man was an ogre. Since she’d laid eyes on him last night, he’d left her feeling like a string of pearls that had been snapped, sending beads flying in all directions. She didn’t like it. Not at all.

In the kitchen, she dropped the gloves that had become twisted blue balls in her fists into a trash can and crossed the room to the sink, where she scrubbed her hands. Rather than cleaning them, she managed to spread the ink deeper into her skin, leaving both hands, up to her wrists, blue.

Norma Rose was close to boiling point by the time she dried her hands. Ty was talking with Moe, the assistant cook, as if they were long lost friends. No one—absolutely no one—was allowed in the kitchen, other than employees and family. Which Ty Bradshaw definitely was not.

“I’ll take Gloria her breakfast when it’s ready, Moe,” Norma Rose said, interrupting their tête-à-tête.

“Oh.” The cook’s eyes shifted between Ty and her, as if he wasn’t sure who was his boss.

That was enough to totally infuriate her. “How long will it be?”

“It’s almost done,” Moe said, flipping an egg. “I’ll dish it up and put it on two trays. One for your father and one for Mrs. Kasper. Ty can carry one and you the other. It all won’t fit on one, and would be too heavy for you.”

Used to working with the temperamental Silas, Moe was well-versed on suggesting compromises and finding ways to please everyone. His skills were lost on her.

While Moe babbled on, Norma Rose settled her best menacing stare on Ty, who grinned like he’d just won a prize. The air she sucked in through her nose burned her nostrils. Never one to let employees see her distressed, Norma Rose smiled in return, a rather nasty little grin that made her feel an ounce better.

A few minutes later, with Moe still chatting, Ty answering amicably and her fuming, the trays were ready. Moe held open the back door and she and Ty, each carrying a tray, left the building.

“Careful of your step.”

“I’ve walked this path for years, I know every stone.”

“That coming from a woman with blue hands, or was today the first time you used an ink pen?”

Norma Rose kept her lips pinched together. He truly thought he was humorous. Poor man. She’d soon be the one laughing, watching him drive his old jalopy down the driveway. Her father must be worried about Dave and not have seen through Ty yet. He’d soon see everything, especially when she pointed out a few things. Like the fact Ty was most likely a revenue man looking for evidence to turn them in.