Shifter’s Baby (Alpha Fantasy Paranormal Billionaire Shifter BBW Romance) (93 page)
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Authors: Faye Summers
Copyright 2015 by Lisa Cartwright - All rights reserved.
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Grace pressed her lips to a sheet of pink crepe paper to color them, as she examined her flawless porcelain skin in the vanity mirror. The barn dance had never been her favorite of occasions to dress up. With the possibility of Everett Roosevelt being there this year though, she was making the extra effort.
Everett D. Roosevelt had rolled in to Beaumont, Texas just eleven months ago in the summer of 1900. He was looking to invest his hefty inheritance in the recent oil boom and he quickly became a man of note to every single woman in town. Grace Purdue had tried her damndest not to pay any attention to the hubbub. She had always been a young woman who believed in love for the sake of love, not love for the sake of money. After just a few months of his being in town, however, Grace quickly began to change her mind. Money, she reasoned, was as good of a reason as any to fall in love with someone. Besides, love for loves sake would surely follow.
Everything about Everett D. Roosevelt intrigued Grace - including his claim to blood relation with the current president of the United States. Of course, that which intrigued Grace also intrigued every other eligible (and ineligible) woman in town as well. Of the handful of times that she had run in to him at the local bar while running errands for her father, Everett had always been surrounded by giggling women. Giggling was certainly something that Grace would never do, at least not in the company of so many other women. They reminded Grace of a rafter of turkeys. Once one began to gobble, the rest surely followed. No, no matter how attractive she found Mr. Everett D. Roosevelt, she was not going to give herself the appearance of a plump thanksgiving bird.
“Now Gracie, you must have spent hours locked away up here getting ready for, what is possibly, the most boring event all year!” Grace’s sister said from the doorway of Grace’s small bedroom. “What reason could you possibly have for…” A smile touched her lips. “Ohhh, I see. It's that young Mr. Roosevelt isn't it?” She asked. A blush crept in to Grace’s cheeks.
“Oh, hush!” Grace said. “It is not!” She watched in the mirror as her sister brushed the back of her skirt and sat on the edge of Grace’s bed.
“Well, if it was because of him, I can't say I'd blame you. Those deep dark eyes and that divine stubble across his chin. Not to mention that delightful cowboy hat he wears. I think he fancies himself something of a cowboy!”
“Winnie!” Grace said in disbelief.
“What?”
“You'd better not let Tom hear you talk like that about another man!” Winnie waved her hand.
“Pshaw, Tom wouldn't notice if I invited Mr. Roosevelt to sleep between us in bed!” Winnie rolled her eyes and shook her head with exasperation.
“Things are still bad?” Grace asked, turning to her sister. Winnie fell back, lying on the homemade quilt and staring at the ceiling.
“You know, sissie, they tell you that marriage is going to be wonderful…wedded bliss, they say…I think that's a pile of horse shit.” Grace couldn't help but laugh at her sisters cursing.
“Things will get better, I'm sure of it.” Grace said, getting up and sitting on the bed beside her sister.
“I bet that's what mama would have said too…but I wonder how long does it take for things to get better, Gracie? It's been seven months now that he's hardly slept at home and don't even ask how long it's been since he's touched me!” Grace felt the warmth returning to her cheeks at Winnie’s reference to sex.
“Well…have you tried talking to him about it?” Grace asked, looking down at her sister.
“I would - if I could just get him to stay in one place for more than a minute!” Winnie said looking crestfallen.
“I tell you what, why don't you come to the barn dance with me? I know it's not the greatest event in town, but it's better than going home alone. Plus, you could maybe help me to secure the attention of Mr. Roosevelt…” Winnie’s face lit up with a smile.
“I knew it! I knew you were interested in him! I can tell by the way you look when you talk about him.” Winnie said sitting upright, re-energized by the prospect of playing matchmaker.
“Well now you know…but don't tell daddy, okay? I don't want to disappoint him if things don't work out.” Grace said. Winnie nodded, taking her sisters hand in hers.
“Of course I won't! But I will come to the dance. It sounds like the perfect opportunity to get you a leg up over all of those other floozies!” Winnie said. Grace smiled, she loved the fierceness with which Winnie loved her.
“Perfect! But we’d better start getting you ready, the doors open at seven and I don't want to get there too late.”
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The barn wasn't far from the Purdue family home and despite Grace’s protestations at walking to the dance, Winnie had dragged her along anyway. The only other option would have been hitching up the horses themselves or asking their father for a lift – neither of which seemed appealing. Still, Grace insisted upon complaining for the full ten minutes that it took them to get there. As soon as she caught sight of the barn, however, Grace fell silent. She clutched her sister’s hand tightly.
“Winnie…what if I'm making a terrible mistake?” She asked, staring in to her sister’s emerald eyes. Winnie shook her head.
“Now, that's just your nerves talking. Mr. Roosevelt is a wealthy eligible gentleman and you are a beautiful eligible woman, there is no reason why this would be a mistake.” Winnie slipped her hand from her sister’s and brought both hands to Grace’s waist where she tugged and pulled material in to place. “There, now, let's go inside, shall we?” She asked giving Grace a reassuring smile. Grace hesitated and then nodded.
As the sister’s walked through the large double doors of the red painted barn, they both scanned the room for Everett D. Roosevelt. It was only when Grace’s eyes lit upon a rather large group of women in the corner of the room that she knew that they had found him. As the sister’s walked closer, the sound of tittering laughter only got louder. Grace looked at her sister who was cringing just as much as she was at the noise.
“…and so I said to this fellow with one arm: ‘Young man, you can't possibly expect me to pay you a full wage when you show up to the job only half prepared to work!’” The tittering became uproarious laughter as the crowd of young women indulged his story.
“Gracie?” Winnie looked to her sister who had stopped mid-step.
“That wasn't funny at all…” Grace said, her brow furrowed. “I think…I'm having second thoughts.” She spun on her heel and tugged her sister after her as she made her way to the fruit punch bowl instead.
“I'm sure it was just a story, Gracie, you know how men can be when they're trying to impress women.” Winnie said as she followed Grace involuntarily.
“But why would a woman be impressed with that sort of thing at all? Laughing at another’s misfortune is just cruel and far from impressive!” Grace said, shaking her head.
“Because she wants a wealthy husband who can keep her in a life of luxury.” Winnie said.
“Any woman who values her humanity less than she values the almighty dollar, is a poor excuse for a woman at all!” They came to a stop beside a folding table and letting go of her sister’s hand, Grace filled a cup with fruit punch. She gulped it down quickly before offering Winnie some.
“Don’t go getting yourself all worked up, we are here to have a good time, remember?” Winnie waited while Grace filled her a cup of punch.
“We were here to secure the affections of Mr. Roosevelt, fun was simply a secondary benefit.” Grace said, handing her sister the punch.
“I don't believe that I have had the pleasure…” Grace turned her head only to find Everett D. Roosevelt standing behind her. She shot her sister a horrified glance before turning back to Mr. Roosevelt with scarlet cheeks.
“No, sir you have not.” Was all Grace could manage to say. Mr. Roosevelt chuckled.
“Well…” He eyed her up and down quite overtly, “I'd say if your intentions were to secure my affections, you have made quite the impression.” He poked the brim of his cowboy hat as if only just greeting the sisters. “My name is Everett D. Roosevelt, but you lovely ladies can call me Everett.” He said with a nod.
“We know full well who you are, Mr. Roosevelt.” Winnie said quickly. Everett’s eyebrows shot up at the unexpected harshness in her tone.
“Ah, then I'm afraid that you have an advantage on me.” He smiled and looked at the sisters expectantly. Grace was the one to cave.
“My name is Grace Purdue and this is my sister, Winnie.” She said, looking to Winnie who was now gulping down her own glass of punch.
“Well, Grace, Winnie, it's my pleasure to meet two such purdy ladies. Perhaps you might consider granting me the honor of a dance a little later this evening?” He asked, looking at Grace in particular.
Winnie could see Grace beginning to crumble. She had never been very good under pressure and she would abandon her cause as quick as a flash if she believed there was a chance for affection.
“No.” Winnie said flatly. Everett’s eyebrows shot up.
“I'm sorry?” He said.
“I said no…thank you.” Winnie added the ‘thank you’ out of habit more than courtesy.
“Well, perhaps Miss. Grace here would like to answer for herself?” Everett looked at Grace who now resembled a stunned creature. Grace looked at Everett and then back to Winnie. Winnie shook her head.
“I…umm…I think, perhaps, my sister has my best interests in mind.” She said hypnotically. Everett stood in amazement. After a few moments of stunned silence he poked the brim of his hat once more.
“If you’ll excuse me ladies…” He said and giving them a nod, he left the table.
The two sisters stood at the table and refilled their punch as Everett D. Roosevelt made his way back across the room to his impatiently awaiting crowd of admirers.
“I ain't never seen anyone talk to Mr. Roosevelt like that!” A young man came over from the side of the barn where he had watched the entire exchange unfold. He wore a pair of blue jeans, a clean pressed white shirt and a cowboy hat of his own. Grace smiled at him silently.
“Some people simply need informing that they can't have everything they want simply because they have money.” Winnie said. The man nodded.
“I don't disagree with you, ma’am.” He stuck out his hand. “Arthur Kidd…but everyone calls me Art.” Winnie gingerly offered him her hand and Art shook it as he would any man’s. He then offered his hand to Grace and repeated the shake. “No, ma’am, I never saw anyone tell Mr. Roosevelt no before an’ you can be sure that it ain't happened more than once.” Art looked across the room at Everett who was licking his wounds and soaking up the attention of his lady friends.
“I have no doubt about that!” Winnie said. As she spoke, her eyes flitted to a familiar figure that half walked and half stumbled through the barn door – Tom had arrived.
Winnie hadn't been expecting Tom to show up at the dance, let alone show up so inebriated that he could hardly stand. She leaned in to Grace, cupping her hand to her ear.
“I'm so sorry sissy, but I must take Tom home before he embarrasses himself. Will you be okay? I will ask father to come and fetch you.” As she whispered, she eyed Art, assessing whether or not he could hear her secret. He seemed not to notice the exchange as he watched dancers beginning to take the floor.
Grace nodded.
“I'll be just fine here alone.” Grace said out loud. “I'm sure that Art here, wouldn't mind walking me home after the dance?” She looked at Art who snapped to attention as soon as he heard his name.
“What's that? Oh, no ma’am, I wouldn't mind at all, in fact, it'd be my pleasure.” He drawled. Winnie nodded at him quickly, too preoccupied with her drunk husband’s presence to give much thought to the fact that neither she, nor Grace, knew Art at all.
“Goodnight, then!” Winnie said quickly before making a beeline for Tom who was already getting a little too familiar with the young girl selling raffle tickets.
“Your sister sure does care for you.” Art said, giving Grace a friendly smile.
“Yes, she does. I am very lucky to have Winnie.” Grace returned the smile.
“I'd offer you some more punch, but I'm afraid you might just float away if I did that.” Art said with a chuckle. Grace looked down at her glass.
“I have had quite a bit already, haven't I? Lucky for me it's just fruit in there!” She said, setting her glass down on the table. As she set her glass down, the small band on the stage at the far end of the barn, began to play. Grace looked at them and then back to Art. “Art? Would you care to dance?” She asked. She wasn't usually such a straight forward person, but Winnie’s exchange with Everett had bolstered her.
“Ain't it supposed to be the gentleman that asks the lady to dance?” Art said, one eyebrow raised.
“Well, if I see a gentleman in here, I'll remind him of that!” Grace gave him a mischievous grin and he shook his head.
“You sure are somethin’, Miss. Grace!” Art held out his hand for Grace’s and led her to the dance floor.
Art certainly wasn't any Everett D. Rockefeller, but he knew how to dance. By midway through the second song, Grace was smiling and laughing so much that she barely noticed Everett glaring at her and Art from the side of the room. When she did catch a glance of him staring at them, Grace was far too busy enjoying Art’s company to care.
By the end of the third song, Grace was breathing heavily. She found it quite difficult to remain ladylike while still trying to catch her breath.
“I think…” She panted, “I should take a moment, if you don't mind.” Just as Art was leading her from the dance floor, Everett appeared in their path. Grace wasn't sure how he kept popping up out of nowhere, but she didn't much care for it.
“Might I have the next dance?” Everett held out his hand to Grace.
“We were just about to take a short break from dancin’” Art said politely. “Perhaps once Miss Grace here has caught her breath she would consider givin’ you the next dance.” Everett glared at Art and then returned his focus to Grace.
“Is that so, Grace?” He asked, speaking as though he dared Grace to deny him.
“Well, I am quite tired and I would certainly appreciate a moment to catch my breath.” She said hesitantly. She hated how Everett made her feel so powerless.
“That's the second refusal of the night, I'm beginning to think that you don't much care for my company…” Everett said. Grace wished that Winnie were there, she would have told him that that was exactly the reason why she was ducking him.
“Regardless of what you might think, friend, the lady has said no. Now, if you will excuse us.” Art pulled Grace gently from the edge of the dance floor and led her back towards the drinks table. Everett remained in place, his face reddening with a mix of embarrassment and fury. “Let me get you a fresh drink, why don't you take a seat?” Art nodded to a couple of wooden chairs in the corner.
“Thank you.” She said quietly. She wasn't sure if she was thanking him for the drink, the offer to sit down, the interference with Everett or everything at once. Walking to the corner, Grace took a seat. She was grateful to get off her feet. She brushed her palms across the front of her dress, flattening out a few unsightly wrinkles. As she focused on one crease in particular, she didn't notice the shadow of a figure appear beside her.
“Seems to me you ought to be grateful when a man in my position offers to dance with you.” Without looking up Grace knew Everett’s voice. She glanced quickly at the drinks table where Art was still filling their cups. She lifted her head to look at Everett.
“While I certainly appreciate your affections, Mr. Roosevelt, I am quite tired.” She said politely. Everett sneered.
“Tired from dancin’ with that farmhand?” He asked. Grace nodded.
“I don't see what his position as a farmhand has to do with anything, Mr. Roosevelt.” Grace pushed herself to be blunt. She was going to have to be more forceful if she wanted him to listen because being polite was obviously having no effect.
“Who’s a farmhand? And Mr. Roosevelt, I thought that I was quite clear when we spoke on the dance floor? Miss. Grace here has declined your company.” Art offered Grace a cup of punch and raised his own cup to Everett with a nod.
“We were just discussing your occupation, Art.” Everett said. Smirking, he looked Art up and down.
“Mr. Roosevelt, while I may have had my humble beginnings as a farmhand, my days of muckin’ stalls are long behind me. Now, if you will excuse us.” Art took a sip from his cup and watched Everett expectantly until he huffed loudly and slunk away. Grace couldn't help but smile.
“He certainly doesn't seem to appreciate you very much.” She said before sipping her fruit punch. This time it was Art who smirked.
“He’d appreciate me even less if he knew who I was.”
