“Just like old times,” he said, smiling across the table at her.
“This isn’t like old times at all,” she replied. He could forget that idea. She doubted if she’d ever get past the anger.
A pretty brunette with bright purple stripes threaded through her high ponytail brought them their menus.
“Hi, Hannah,” she said, dimples flashing. She eyed Tim with curiosity and a certain degree of reserve, reminding Hannah she really was going to have to talk to Dallas the minute she saw him so she could explain. Small-town gossip grew legs fast. “The barbequed bacon and onion burger with sweet potato fries is on special tonight.”
“Sounds excellent.”
“We’ll take two,” Tim chimed in.
“Separate checks,” Hannah added.
They chatted about the people they’d known in Bozeman and friends from Sweetheart they’d gone to school with while they waited for their food. Hannah excused herself to make a trip to the ladies’ room.
Simone entered as she was washing her hands. The other woman had been drinking and the high heels she teetered on posed a serious risk to her health. She closed the ladies’ room door and leaned against it, one murderous shoe skidding a few inches on the white ceramic tile floor. Hannah couldn’t be sure who was holding up what. Her shirt slipped off one shoulder to reveal a butterfly tattoo.
“What are you doing, Hannah?” Simone sighed, sounding a whole lot more sober than she appeared. “It’ll be all over Grand that you’re here with an old boyfriend while Dallas is out of town. You ruined it for Dallie and me. Are you trying to ruin your chances with him, too?”
Hannah would have been offended except Simone’s concern appeared genuine, even if mercenary. Not to mention, there’d been nothing between him and Simone, at least according to Dallas, and Hannah had no reason not believe him.
“What makes you think Tim’s an old boyfriend?” she asked.
“He hasn’t exactly been silent about how he knows you,” Simone said. “The whole town is talking about it. He applied for a job at Powell Construction and your name came up. Word has it he used you as a reference to get an apartment from Angus McKillop. Tracey McKenzie was in the shop having her hair done on Wednesday. She told me her brother-in-law was at the taproom the other night. He said your boyfriend and Dallas had words before you threw him out. Tonight is going to make people wonder.”
The speed with which news traveled in small towns never failed to amaze. “If Tracey’s brother-in-law meant he saw Tim and Dallas speaking to each other, then yes. I’m not sure I’d call it having words, though. And as for me throwing Tim out…” Well, that part kind of happened, so she left it at that.
Simone aimed a finger at her. “Dallas might be laid back and casual, but he’s not the one you have to watch out for. His friend Ryan was at the Wayside when you were there the other morning and he’s been asking questions. If he doesn’t like you, you’re done.”
Hannah had a hazy recollection of seeing Ryan that morning. She might have said hello to him too, although she wasn’t sure. Had he said something to Dallas about her being there with Tim? If so, then why hadn’t Dallas said something about it to her? Was that why he’d had such a bad day at work—not because of the farming accident, or at least not entirely? Was it why he’d given her so much space the rest of the week?
And then, she got annoyed. She’d done nothing wrong. She wasn’t sneaking around. She’d chosen to speak with Tim in public precisely because she had nothing to hide. She would have felt guilty about it if she’d met with him in private.
“Girls like us don’t get this kind of chance every day,” Simone continued. Her face, slapped by stark, overhead lighting, looked as tired as the worn washroom fixtures. She moved away from the door and toward one of the stalls. “Dallas has money. It helps that he’s handsome, too. There are lots of women around here who’d happily take your place. Don’t throw it away.”
Hannah had gotten past her first flush of guilt and moved on to indignation. Yes, she should have told him she’d had coffee with Tim. If he’d had a problem with it, however, then he should have come right out and asked her about it. Meanwhile, he was a good-looking doctor who’d once been a stripper. He had billions of dollars and he was happy to spend it on others because he liked people and he liked to help them. Simone was right in that other women weren’t going to care whether or not he was in a relationship, either.
But Hannah honestly didn’t know if he was. If they were. They hadn’t talked about it. She’d simply made an assumption. Another Marsh-ism surfaced. “Bringing you here means you’re someone special to him.”
It squelched any doubts. If she’d learned one thing about Dallas in the short while she’d known him, it was that he always put others first. He’d never lead anyone on. If he was with her at all it was because she was important to him. She was as sure of him as she was that the sun would rise in the east. He deserved to have the same level of confidence in her.
Because she loved him. It might not have been love at first sight on her part, but he’d definitely worked his way into her heart when she wasn’t looking. Then, he’d done what he did best. He’d gathered up all the broken bits and pieces and stitched them back together, leaving her with a new and improved model that had plenty of room.
“I don’t care about Dallas’s money,” she said to Simone, who should be ashamed of herself for thinking that way. How could anyone possibly care more about his money than they did about him?
“Keep telling yourself that,” Simone said.
The stall door swung closed. The bolt shot across.
Hannah returned to her table. Their food had arrived while she was gone. She drew her chair up to the heavy slab table and set her elbows on either side of her plate. She tucked her laced fingers under her chin and weighed Simone’s unsolicited concerns against Marsh’s wise words.
She didn’t have to allow anyone else to set the terms for what her relationship with Tim would be. What Grand thought didn’t matter. And Dallas, whose opinion did, would have to trust her. The same way she trusted him.
Tim dipped a sweet potato fry in curried mayonnaise and popped it into his mouth. “The food here is fantastic. You should think about adding a menu to the taproom. You’d give this place a real run for its money.”
Competing with a place like Lou’s Pub had never been part of her business model. He knew that. She’d explained it to him. They’d argued more than once over it, too.
Maybe she didn’t listen to him all that well, either.
“Let’s talk about those boundaries,” she said.