Chapter Eight
Hannah
“Why is Dr.Tucker moonlighting as your bartender?” Eleanor Fitzpatrick asked Hannah.
Eleanor was a no-nonsense woman well past middle age. They were seated together on the third round of poker. Sue Anne Nylund, the gray-haired school secretary for Marion Street Grand Elementary, and Kendall McKinley, the local real estate agent who’d helped Hannah buy the building for the Grand Master Brewery, shared their table. Louis Armstrong’s trumpet blared “West End Blues” from the bar, the volume comfortable for conversation while setting the tone for the evening.
So far, Eleanor was the frontrunner where winnings were concerned, leading to good-natured speculation as to a misspent youth. Hannah liked her a lot, even if she did ask intrusive questions. Eleanor, however, was only lending voice to what everyone in the room thought but didn’t have enough drinks in them yet to ask. They would though. The night was young.
“Ford called at the last minute to say he couldn’t make it, so Dallas offered to help out.” Hannah hoped to leave it at that, but she should have known better. She’d been raised in a small rural town and she knew how to dodge and deflect when it came to speculation.
“So, Dr. Tucker was here when Ford called in sick?” Eleanor persisted.
“Dallas dropped by because he wants to use the taproom to host a fundraiser for the new free clinic the Endeavour is building. All donations are welcome, by the way,” she threw in, happy to promote a worthy cause while changing the subject. Lots of rumors ran rampant in Grand, including a tidbit that suggested Posey Davies-McGregor had plenty of money to spare. A better-known fact was that Posey and Eleanor were close.
Eleanor leaned across the table and whispered, “You know, dear, you might want to pay a bit more attention. From the way he watches you, funds aren’t the only thing Dr. Tucker is hoping to raise.”
Sue Anne and Kendall started to laugh.
Hannah’s overheated face had nothing to do with alcohol raising her basal body temperature. She knew he’d been watching her because she’d been watching him, too. The kiss they shared had already guaranteed she’d be able to focus on nothing else for the rest of the night. It was why she was drinking when normally, especially while hosting ladies’ night, she’d be more… circumspect.
Circumspect.
What a great word.
“You’d make a beautiful couple. Imagine what your children would look like,” Kendall mused thoughtfully once the laughter subsided. She was on her second drink. So was Hannah, so she wasn’t judging. Thankfully, she’d thought to make arrangements with a taxi company for the taproom’s customer home delivery service this evening because it didn’t look as if she’d be able to drive.
Sue Anne weighed in with her opinion. “Test drive him first. You want to make sure he’s good in bed before you start thinking about children. They’ll tie you down.”
Eleanor blinked. “Good heavens, Sue Anne. How could Dallas Tucker be anything but good in bed? Just look at him.”
“I heard he used to be a stripper,” Kendall volunteered. “Although I got that from Simone Parker so you might want to take it for what it’s worth.”
“Full nude or did he wear a cup? Did she say? Because a cup can be padded,” Sue Anne said.
“It’s not the size that matters. It’s what he does with it,” Eleanor cut in.
Sue Anne patted her arm. “You poor dear. If you can believe that, then you have no idea what you missed out on. Trust me. Size matters.”
“Now wait just a minute,” Eleanor sputtered, indignant. “My Gordon wasn’t lacking in either department.”
Hannah’s face could start a brushfire by now. Dallas wasn’t lacking in anything either, which wasn’t something they needed to know. Unfortunately, she was far better at dodge and deflection than outright untruths, and if someone asked a direct question requiring an answer, she didn’t think she could carry it off.
She lifted her empty glass and waved it to get Dallas’s attention. Hopefully, his presence would put an end to this particular line of inquiry.
He brought over a tray of fresh drinks, distributed them to Duke Ellington’s “Black and Tan Fantasy” then collected the discarded glasses with the skill of a pro. “You ladies appear to be enjoying yourselves,” he remarked.
His comment was greeted with a fresh burst of laughter. Hannah took a long sip of her drink, grateful for the relaxing effects of the two she’d already downed, and refused to make eye contact.
“Is it true you used to be a stripper?” Kendall asked him, proving alcohol really did lower inhibitions.
Dallas cast a sharp look at Hannah, who wanted to crawl through the floor. Three of these tiny snifters wouldn’t be nearly enough to get her through the entire evening. “She didn’t hear that from me,” she said quickly.
Too quickly, perhaps. Speculation puckered Eleanor’s forehead, drawing one eyebrow upward. “How could Kendall have heard it from you?”
The question had everyone’s attention swinging to Hannah, Dallas’s included.
“Yes, Hannah, how?” he echoed. Humor danced in his hazel eyes. Or maybe the beer only made it seem as if it did.