“That’s plain common sense.”
For some reason, he seemed to think that answer was funny. “Sure it is—if you’re a brew master. Since when is Canadian whiskey maple-flavored, anyway?”
“The whiskey isn’t. The barrels it comes in are made of maple wood.” She put her finger to her lips. “But my secret—don’t tell anyone—is that I also add maple syrup to the wort after it boils. The fermented sh-sh-sh-sugar is what really bumps up the alcohol content.”
“Your secret is safe with me. Judging by the number of glasses I filled, I’d say your recipe is a resounding success.” He began clearing tables.
Hannah hopped off the stool, then grabbed the edge of the table when the floor spun upward to meet her. “You don’t have to stick around. I can clean up.”
Dallas lifted her by the elbows and deposited her back on the stool she’d vacated. “How about you sit right there and supervise me instead, boss lady. I have fifty-six dollars in tips to work off.”
“And the drinks were already paid for… Imagine how much you could have made if you’d worn a G-string,” Hannah marveled.
“You’re cute when you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.” She thought for a second. “Yes I am. But only a little.”
“It doesn’t matter. You’re cute when you’re sober, too.”
“Thank you. Can I tell you another secret?”
“You can tell me anything you like. I promise I’ll keep it to myself.”
Bold Hannah came out—the one who’d played milkmaid in a stable with him. “Kissing you is good. Really, really good. But you aregreatin bed. In fact, sex with you is the best I’ve ever had.”
The sound that came out of him was a cross between a strangled laugh and a groan. “That’s probably a secret you’re going to regret telling me later, but thank you. I feel the same way about sex with you.”
Bold Hannah was pleased. “Want to try it again?”
“The answer to that is a resounding yes, but I’m sensing a pattern. Why don’t we shake things up a little and try it without the influence of alcohol?”
Everyday Hannah was going to be horribly embarrassed by this conversation tomorrow, but right now, she was too disappointed to care. She’d needed a few drinks in order to bring Bold Hannah out and it turned out she’d wasted her time. “Are you turning me down?”
“God, no. Well, yes,” he amended. “But only for tonight—and think of it more as a deferral, because it’s definitely not a rejection. I’d like to take you out to dinner first.”
She perked up. “As in a date?”
“Exactly. A date,” he confirmed. “There’ll be dancing involved, too. How about Sunday, since you work every evening before then?”
“Not until after my visit with Marsh, though.” Neither Bold nor Everyday Hannah was giving that up.
“Even better—why don’t I pick you up early, we’ll visit Marsh together, then go out to dinner?”
“He’d love that. He thinks we make a cute couple,” she volunteered. Both Hannahs slapped their mental foreheads.Shut up, Stupid Hannah.
“He does, does he?” Dallas finished loading the dishwasher. He snapped the door closed and turned it on. “There. All done.”
He was fast and efficient. She hadn’t even noticed him dispose of the empty food trays.
“Thank you for helping out this evening,” she said.
Dallas smiled at her in a way that made her toes curl. “The pleasure was mine.”
He stooped to kiss her cheek, which wasn’t satisfying at all. She wanted another kiss like the one they’d shared earlier. She draped her arms on his shoulders and clasped her fingers behind his neck.
“Sunday, Hannah,” he said firmly, and disentangled himself. “Sleep well. And don’t forget to lock up behind me.”
*