CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Later that evening, after Libby had watched two animated movies and Hank had held Becca on the sofa and kissed her neck until she was trembling, Hank took his daughter home and tucked her into bed. It was past midnight, and he knew he shouldn’t have kept Libby up so late, but he also couldn’t help himself. Every time he told himself he needed to go home, he needed to call it a night, Becca would look over at him with that shy, half-flirty look on her face and bite her lip, and he’d be a goner. Next time he’d pay more attention to the clock, he decided.
Next time maybe he wouldn’t get so utterly enthralled by a pair of lips.
He pulled the blankets up to Libby’s chin and tucked them close around her.
“Daddy?” She opened sleepy eyes to look at him.
“Yes, baby?”
“Did you kiss Miss Becca?”
“Yeah, I did.” No sense in lying about it, because he planned on doing it a lot.
“You should marry her,” his daughter declared sleepily. “So she can be my mommy.”
“We’re going back to Alaska, remember?”
She nodded and rolled over, going to sleep, but the conversation bothered him even after he went to his own room.
Becca had asked if he was going back to Alaska. The moment he’d said yes, she’d said they would keep it casual. What the hell was that? She always said she didn’t know how to be casual and yet she was suggesting it? He’d been about to suggest that maybe she could move back with him when she threw that “casual” bomb.
Hank didn’t know what to do about it.
The smartest, safest thing would be to back off entirely. Keep his head down and his lips to himself.
Even so . . . he didn’t want to. For the first time, he’d met someone that fascinated him. Someone that he wanted to talk to and that he wanted to hear talk, even if it was about nothing at all. He wanted her smiles, her laughs, he wanted to drink in the way she casually tossed her hair over her shoulder as she bent to work. He wanted more than casual.
But . . . he lived in the backwoods of Alaska and he planned on going back there. There wasn’t a place for a hairdresser there, much less a hair salon. She’d have to give up her business to go rough it in a cabin with him.
Hell. Why did even thinking about it feel like a mistake? He wasn’t changing his life just because he’d kissed a pretty woman a few times.
Maybe she was right to suggest this thing between them was casual . . . even if he didn’t like the idea.
* * *
* * *
Becca was in a good mood the next day. The weather was beautiful, which meant that everyone came out of the woodwork to get their hair cut, oddly enough. It always happened like that, not that she was complaining. It was Monday, and strangely, she was getting so many walk-ins, even though Mondays were usually the slowest. When business was booming, you took advantage of that. Besides, she didn’t mind. She didn’t have anything going on until later, when Hank finished his day’s work.
She wondered if he’d come over tonight. Probably. She’d have to stop by the grocery store when she had a lull between clients and pick up a few things, maybe a couple of steaks and some corn dogs for Libby. She knew the little girl loved corn dogs and could live on them, even if it wasn’t Becca’s first choice for a nutritious meal. She just knew that as much as she loved that Hank cooked for her, she wasn’t sure she wanted pancakes again.
Then they could settle in and watch a movie. A kids’ movie.
Which meant she could kiss Hank for at least ninety minutes while Libby was occupied.
“You seem happy,” the man in her chair said as she ran the shaver over his neck. “You keep smiling to yourself. Did you have a big weekend?”
“Small one, really,” she confessed. Didn’t mean it wasn’t great.
“The small ones are good, too,” he told her with a grin. “You have a beautiful smile. You seeing anyone?”
“I . . . um, yes. Thank you.” Becca’s face felt hot as she turned off the clippers and then dusted his neck. He was one of the newer cowboys that worked out at Sage Cooper-Clements’s ranch. For the first time, she looked at him, noting that he had nice eyes and a handsome smile . . . but he wasn’t Hank. “I am seeing someone, sorry.”
“Just bad luck on my part,” he told her with a wink as she took the cape off him. “If it ever changes, you let me know. Can I come in for a trim in about two weeks?”
“Of course.” She chatted with him, made the appointment in her phone, and tried not to feel too weird about it. Men asked women out all the time. It was something that wasn’t a big deal; it really wasn’t.
Even so, she couldn’t help but giggle to herself. Her phone dinged with a text not a moment later, too.
GREG: Hey. Sorry about the other night.
GREG: My hair’s getting a little shaggy. I don’t suppose you could squeeze me in for a trim and we can talk? I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. :)
The door opened to the salon, and she shoved her phone into the pocket of her apron, trying not to grimace. It was Amy, the schoolteacher, an apologetic look on her face. “Is this a bad time? I saw you were open.”
“It’s fine, come on in.” She patted the chair. “I was just snarling at a text from my ex.”
“I know what that’s like,” Amy said with a chuckle. “You do lashes, right?”
“I do!” It was one of her new favorite things, actually. “Your eyes are already beautiful, though. I doubt you need them.”
Amy gave her a rueful look. “Isn’t it your job to talk me into things instead of out of them? I don’t know. I just . . .” She sighed and stared at her reflection in the mirror. “Need a change. I feel blah. Unpretty.” She hesitated a moment. “Alone.”
“Normally I’d say that I can sympathize,” Becca began, settling a pink cape over Amy’s shoulders. “But I seem to be overflowing with men lately. It’s the strangest thing. The last guy asked me out, and my ex is texting me, and I’m already seeing someone.” She shook her head. “Is there a full moon? I’ve been utterly single for two years now and no one had the slightest bit of interest. Now I’m starting to get weirded out.”
“It’s because you’re unavailable,” Amy told her, wiggling her eyebrows. “Men want what other men have. That, and you have the cutest sparkle in your eye. You just look so happy.”
She felt happy. For the first time in a long time, she felt like there was something to look forward to at the end of each day. “Maybe that’s it.”
“At least you’re not going to be lonely,” Amy said helpfully. “I just moved here and I feel like a pariah. Everyone knows each other, and then there’s me, sitting on the sidelines. I need to figure out how to make friends.”
“Well,” Becca began, leaning on the back of the salon chair and meeting Amy’s gaze in the mirror, “I can do your lashes, but that’ll take two hours and you really, really don’t need them. Or I can give you a blowout, and then we can go and get coffee at the bakery and talk about men or the lack thereof?”
Amy beamed. “I would love that!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
It had been years since Becca had gone out for coffee with a girlfriend and just chatted. Not that she didn’t talk the ears off everyone that came into the salon, but this felt different, more personal, and it was so much fun. She’d forgotten just what it was like to have girlfriends. All of hers had moved away after high school, and when she wasn’t working at the salon, she’d usually been spending time with Greg.
She’d let herself fall into a rut. Maybe it was time to be more social again.
Becca and Amy sat with their coffees at a small table at the bakery and laughed and chatted until Becca saw Hank’s big red truck pull up. They made plans for the following weekend and exchanged phone numbers, and it felt . . . good. Felt right.
She greeted
Hank as he headed for the salon. He was another thing that felt right. He was wearing cowboy boots and a dark shirt and hat, and, damn, he looked good. She noticed there was no Libby with him. “I guess we’re not watching Finding Nemo tonight?”
“Only if it puts you in the mood.” He stooped down to kiss her, an action she always found heart melting. “Thought I’d take you out to dinner.”
“Oh?” He laced his fingers through hers, holding her close as she beamed up at him. “Is that why you look so fancy tonight?”
His eyebrows went up. “I look fancy?”
“For you, yes.”
For some reason, her response seemed to bother him. “Do you not like my beard?”
That was odd. “I never asked you to shave. I think you’re handsome either way.”
Hank just rubbed it thoughtfully. “I don’t look like your ex.”
“No, you don’t. And that’s a good thing.” She held on to his arm. “So where are we going?”
He gestured down the end of Main Street, where Wade’s saloon was open. It was the only restaurant in town, so it didn’t surprise her, but it would also be the first time they’d officially gone out in front of the town, and it felt like a big step.
“Are you sure?” Becca asked him. “Everyone will know we’re dating.”
He stopped and gave her a long, slow look. “Is that a problem?”
“Not for me. I just wasn’t sure how casual you wanted to take things.”
For some reason, he scowled at her. “Let’s just go eat.” His hand clasped hers tightly as he pulled her toward the tavern.
Okay, something was clearly bothering him. Strange. Maybe it was something with Libby? Should she ask? Becca studied his face, but he didn’t seem particularly upset. Cranky, maybe, but upset, no. Maybe he had a bad day at work—lord knew that if she had to spend her time in cow poop all day it’d make her surly. She squeezed his hand. “I’m glad to see you.”
Hank paused on the sidewalk and gazed down at her. He scrutinized her for a long moment, his gaze practically looking her up and down. “You’re honestly the best thing I’ve seen today . . . after Libby,” he added. “Feel obligated to say that.”
She chuckled. “I’ll take it, you know.”
His thumb brushed over the back of her hand in a caress that sent goose bumps all through her body. “Missed seeing you this morning. I know it’s not realistic to have you dragging yourself up to the ranch at the crack of dawn, but it doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”
“You just miss breakfast,” she teased, her heart racing. This man knew how to make her feel wanted; that was for sure.
“Did I mention breakfast? All I mentioned was you. I’d be just as happy if you were there and the fridge was empty.” He shrugged. “The others, not so much.”
Becca laughed, because Caleb and Jack only spoke to her when there was food involved. They were definitely stomach-led men. “Any time you need me to come by and help out, you know I’ll be there.”
“But what if I just need you?”
There he was, making her all breathless again. “That, too,” she whispered.
He glanced at the bar at the end of the street and sighed heavily. “At this rate I’m not going to be interested in dinner at all.”
Heck, at this rate, neither was she. Becca turned her face up to him hopefully, imagining for a moment that he’d take her by the hand and drag her back to her place and to the couch for a heavy make-out session and some petting. Gosh, she’d been thinking about the petting constantly in the last few days. She loved having Libby over, but when they watched a movie with her sitting in front of them on the floor, all they did was kiss and furtively touch hands. She still thought about that first night they went out, though, and how he’d made her come so hard.
She was dying for a repeat. Dying.
But he only squeezed her hand. “Come on.”
Becca bit back her whimper of protest and followed his lead.
Once inside the bar, she felt the intense scrutiny of what felt like all of Painted Barrel, population 200 and some change. It wasn’t the entire town, of course; it just felt like it. She’d been in Wade’s bar plenty of times; it was the only real food joint in their small town other than the bakery, so it tended to be crowded even with people who had no interest in drinking. She pointed at one of the round tables toward the back of the crowded bar, and Hank put a hand on her back and steered her toward it, then pulled her chair out for her.
It was his usual manner—he always did this for her—but with everyone in town staring at them, she felt utterly conspicuous. They were probably going to be watched all through dinner, and wasn’t that awkward? She hoped Hank didn’t notice. She hoped it wouldn’t bother him, either. She knew the townsfolk well and was on good terms with most everyone, but Hank was a stranger to them. He’d get a lot of stares and attention, and she suspected that was something he wasn’t a big fan of.
Sure enough, the moment they sat, she could see people watching them and whispering. Smiling, too, but mostly staring. She glanced at Hank and noticed his nostrils flared as he picked up his menu.
“We can go somewhere else if you’re not comfortable, Hank,” she whispered to him.
“It’s fine.” He put the menu down a split second later and slid his chair closer to hers, then put his arm on the back of her chair. It was a possessive gesture, one meant to show that she belonged to him, and Becca loved it. It also made her incredibly aware of his big hand just brushing against the tips of her hair and the small of her back.
Becca pretended to study her menu a bit more, though she knew it by heart she’d been there so often. “Is Doc watching Libby today?”
“Nope.” He leaned in. “Caleb and Jack are having an uncle slumber party with her. I’m told there will be lots of princess movies and she’s going to give them princess beards. I’m going to owe them big.”
Becca stifled a laugh, glancing up at him. “That’s really cute and nice of them.”
He just leaned in closer. “It’s a slumber party, so I can stay out late.” And he touched a lock of her hair, curling it around his finger.
Oh, she liked that idea. She liked it a lot. Becca looked up at him, breathless. He was close enough that their chairs were practically parked side by side, hips touching, and it made dinner feel intimate even if they were in a restaurant full of strangers. She wanted to lean in and touch him, to give him a kiss just so she could feel his lips on hers, but she wasn’t sure how he’d feel about public affection.
Damn, it was hard being in the early stages of dating someone. Thrilling, but hard. “Late is nice,” she managed, a blush on her cheeks. That meant more than just kisses when they got done with dinner. She was suddenly ready to go back home and—
A man passed by the table. Tipped his hat at her and winked.
Becca stared at him for a moment, trying to place him, and then remembered—it was the cowboy from Sage’s ranch that she’d given a trim earlier that day. It shouldn’t have been surprising to run into him, but she could feel her blush elevating.
At her side, Hank tensed, his body going rigid. “Who’s that?”
“One of my customers. He, ah, asked me on a date. I told him I was with someone.” She bit her lip. Hank started to get up from his chair, a black scowl on his face, and she grabbed his hand. “Where are you going?”
“To kick his ass.”
“Hank, no, don’t. Please.” She clung to his hand, forcing him to look at her. “Let’s just have dinner, okay?”
He thumped back into his seat, glaring at the back of the man at the far end of the saloon. “Did he make you uncomfortable?” Hank looked at her. “Harass you?”
She shook her head. “I think he was just flirting. It’s fine. I’m not interested.” She tried to make a joke of things, to lighten the tension. “I told him I was with you,
but I didn’t mention that we were casual. I didn’t want to give him hope.”
Hank’s gaze turned piercing. “What does casual mean to you?”
That was a curious question. Didn’t it mean the same for everyone? Not exclusively dating? Taking things day by day? “I . . . I don’t know,” she confessed, not wanting to put something out there that might hurt his feelings. “I guess we need to figure that out together.”
He studied her for a long moment and then nodded, his arm returning to the back of her chair. She could feel him subtly pull it closer to him, as if he needed to drag her close and hover over her protectively. It was a little ridiculous, sure, but it also felt really good to be so wanted. She didn’t mind in the slightest.
They ate, and it was a nice dinner even if things felt a little awkward between them. The cowboy winking at her had made Hank go silent, which she wasn’t a fan of. She preferred when he talked. But he touched her all through the meal, rubbing her shoulder, holding her hand, and listening to her as she talked about her day. He stole a fry or two from her plate, and he was attentive and sweet. So as dates went, she couldn’t complain. She much preferred their dates when they were alone together rather than in public, though. She’d never felt strange about being in public before, but now she was utterly aware of just how much attention was on them. With Greg, she’d wanted the attention. Maybe she’d wanted it because she wasn’t getting it from him, so she needed the acknowledgment that they were the town sweethearts. Who knew. All she knew now was that every time someone gave them an odd look—as if they were a mismatch—she bristled just a little bit inside and scooted just a hair closer to him.
She casually mentioned dessert, and Hank ordered it and then insisted she eat almost all of the chocolate cake herself. Furthermore, Hank didn’t let her pay for dinner. He picked up her cash and handed it back to her, ignoring her protests, and that made her feel good, too. By the time they got up and left the saloon, she linked her fingers with his and her body was humming, thinking about Libby’s sleepover.
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 13
