Gail tucked the phone in her back pocket. “Yeah. Something came up and Amber can’t make it.”
“Well then this must be my lucky night. I get you all to myself.”
He certainly wasn’t lacking in the charm department. “Looks like it.”
Pam set their drinks on the table. “Beer for you, Gail, and scotch and tonic for you, sir.”
“Pam. Scott Callahan. Scott’s new in town.” She made the introduction. No need to stand on formality at The Corral.
“Howdy.” While Scott pulled money out of his wallet, Pam turned to Gail. Nice, she mouthed.
Gail concurred, but hoped he hadn’t seen the silent exchange.
Scott raised his drink after she left. “Here’s to cousins who suddenly had something else to do.”
Gail clinked her bottle against his glass. “Thank you for the beer.”
“You’re welcome.” He gestured. “So you come here a lot?”
“All the time.” Ugh. She sounded like some pathetic bar fly.
“Why do you like it so much?” He didn’t sound judgmental, merely curious.
“The people are friendly. Everyone knows everyone. Even if you weren’t here when Amber canceled, I still would have found plenty of people to talk to.” No use mentioning Amber wouldn’t have canceled if Scott hadn’t been there. “I wouldn’t have felt weird being here by myself. It’s a nice place.” Couldn’t hurt to talk up any positive aspect of small town life.
A trio of cowboys walked by the table. One tipped his hat to Gail. Normally she’d check to see if they looked as nice going as they did coming, but tonight the dark haired executive sitting across from her was more than enough to claim her full attention. Who, they’d already established, had an ass so fine it didn’t matter it was covered in khaki instead of denim.
“Is it always this crowded?”
“Usually. Logan and Sharlie have made quite a success out of this place.” She took a sip of beer. “You know I’m actually surprised Logan was willing to close the bar for a private event last Friday.”
“I think originally the idea was to have the mixer upstairs in part of the restaurant, but so many people signed up they had to move it down here. In the long run, the bar did plenty of business. Think about all the people who were here looking for artificial courage the other night. I’m sure Logan’s bottom line didn’t take a hit at all.”
“I didn’t think about it like that.”
Scott shrugged. “It’s my job to think like that.”
Did he ever let loose, relax, and not think about work? “What did you do for fun in New York?” Would anything in a small town be able to compare?
If he thought the change of topic was odd, he didn’t let on. “I play golf.”
Boring. She’d sooner watch paint dry, but to each his own. Plus, it was definitely something he could do around here. If he decided not to sell the company and stayed.
“Would you care to dance?”
“Dance?” His turn to change the topic?
“I don’t know how to do any fancy line dancing stuff, but I do know a slow dancing song when I hear it.” He stood and held out his hand. “What do you say?”
“Okay.” What happened to her resolve to not date the boss? Drinks. Dancing. You couldn’t get much datier. Dare she hope for a good night kiss later?
Whoa. Another hot flash.
He led her onto the parquet floor where he guided her into the conventional dance position: one hand at her waist, the other holding hers. The subtle scent of his cologne wafted over her.
Gail ignored the curious stares. She could almost read the questions burning in the other dancers’ eyes as they studied the stranger in their midst.
“Everyone’s staring at you.” His whisper tickled her ear.
“Actually, everyone’s staring at you.”
“Great.” He glanced around. “So, these…cowboys…are your usual type?”
“You could say that.” Definitely her type, but she didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic.
Scott made a noncommittal sound in his throat as he guided her across the floor. He really wasn’t half bad at the whole dancing thing.
“Have you ever dated any of these guys from the bar?” His tone held an edgier than just casual curiosity note.
She tilted her head back to meet his gaze. “I’ve gone out with a few guys from the bar at one time or another.”
His glance slid over her head. “Recently?” He led her through another smooth turn.
“No, not really.”
They danced in silence for a few measures, which gave her time to appreciate the breadth of the masculine chest inches from her own. The spark of awareness spreading from their joined hands down her arm until her whole body tingled. The warm weight of his palm at her lower back.
“So, whatever came of those dates?”
Gail shrugged. “Nothing really.” She’d had a nice time with the guys she’d gone out with, but not one had led to a spark of something deeper. Lasting. “I’ve made some nice friendships.” Whoo hoo. Like that would keep her warm at night. Or keep the loneliness at bay.
“Interesting.” He sounded almost amused.
Was he making fun? She cocked an eyebrow. “How so?”
“Well, here you are, surrounded by all these men who are your type.” The air quotes around the words were obvious. “Yet you’ve never found anyone you wanted to stay in a relationship with. Maybe a cowboy really isn’t your type. Maybe”—his emerald eyes gleamed in the dim light—“you should give a different type a try. Like say, the president of an accounting firm.”
Chapter Four
In the past, Gail had found the traditional offerings of Valentine’s Day a bit cliché. However, this year once again she found herself smiling at its whimsy. A heart-shaped box of chocolates rested on her chair. The familiar paper of the attached folded note forced her to be honest. The smile was more for the giver than the actual gift. What silly saying had Scott come up with now?
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Do you like me?
Because I like you
(Check yes or no)
Instead of initials this time, the note ended with two boxes labeled with the corresponding choices.
Did she like Scott? She’d certainly liked dancing in his arms last night. The memory of her hand in his, his whisper against her ear, had kept her awake and staring at the ceiling for long hours.
So had his words. Because he had a point. For all of the fine cowboys at The Corral, none held her interest for more than a few dates. None had been that special someone.
Maybe she was too picky. Or maybe Johnny Lee had it right and she was lookin’ for love in all the wrong places. Make that place. Singular. It wasn’t like she’d been looking outside The Corral. Or even her hometown. She’d lived here her whole life. Hadn’t even gone away to college. She loved her town, but maybe it was time to broaden her horizons. A good start would be dinner with a city boy from New York.
She couldn’t deny the attraction between them, but if he sold the company and left town, not only would she possibly be out of a job, she’d be out a boyfriend then too.
Boyfriend? Gad. She hadn’t even accepted an official date with him, and here she was giving him a label. Which didn’t really fit. Even if they were dating, “boyfriend” seemed so…high school, while Scott was all grown up masculine…man.
Even though his most recent note held more of a third grade sentiment. Gail shook her head. How could she not like him? She grabbed a red pen and put a check in the box for yes.
****
A folded note sat upright in the middle of Scott’s desk like a miniature tent. His name was written on the front in a loopy, feminine script. For some reason the red ink made his heart pound.
Unable to stand the suspense, he opened the card. A grin spread over his face. She’d played along with his silly game. Plus she’d checked yes.
At first he’d thought Carol
’s idea was lame. Stupid. Ridiculous. Showed how much he knew. Never again would he doubt his sister’s expertise when it came to matchmaking.
His calendar showed four more days until Valentine’s Day. He’d gone ahead and hedged his bets and made a reservation at La Ristorante for the most popular date night of the year. He had one more gift to deliver, but his gamble was close to paying off.
Even though the actual date hadn’t happened yet, his mind drifted to the end of the night, when he could pull Gail into his arms, tilt her face to his, and finally, finally taste her lips.
After work, Scott whistled as he walked down Main Street. The bite of winter’s chill lingered, but the snow had melted. It didn’t mean they were done for good, there was still plenty of season left, but for now it was nice to see dry sidewalk without mounds of dirty snow.
The bell over the dry cleaner’s door tinkled when he entered. Even here, hearts decorated the frosted-over windows and cherubs hung from the ceiling.
Kelly, busy in the back, called out, “Hi Scott. I’ll be right there.”
Although he’d taken his suits and shirts to the same place for over ten years, had he ever been on a first name basis with his dry cleaner in New York? He returned the greeting and snagged a conversation heart from the bowl on the counter. BE MINE.
Would Gail agree to be his? At least for a Valentine’s Day date? What would happen after that? He still hadn’t decided what to do with his uncle’s company. He missed the hustle and bustle of New York. How everyday presented a new challenge that tested him and made him better.
Scott snagged another heart. KISS ME. The sentiment brought his earlier fantasy back in vivid detail. What would Gail’s lips feel like beneath his own? Would she be a tentative, shy kisser or respond with equal passion? For some reason he suspected the latter. Which was enough to start his heart pounding right there in the middle of the dry cleaner.
Getting Gail to go out with him had been a challenge of a different sort. She’d been so adamant about her not dating the boss rule. He’d noticed her right away the first day he’d come to Thompson & Sons. He was male enough to admit he’d first been taken in by her beauty. He soon realized the inside matched the out, as she was kind enough to offer help and not judge the new boss when he didn’t know something about the company he’d taken over.
But she’d always kept it professional, even calling him Mr. Callahan. Which, come to think of it, in a small town where everyone seemed to be on a first name basis, was odd.
“Here you go.” Kelly placed several clear plastic bags with suits and shirts hung from wire hangers on the hook above the counter.
He rifled through his wallet and pulled out some bills “Thanks, Kelly. Keep the change.” Case in point. He’d been on a first name basis with his new dry cleaner before his new receptionist.
Scott hooked the hangers around his forefinger and let the garments dangle over his shoulder as he strolled back to the office to get his car.
He thanked his lucky stars he’d run into Gail at Carol’s speed dating event. Or did Cupid get the credit this time of year? They were finally on a first name basis. And, if he were reading the signs right, they were only a few days away from their first official date. Which should lead to their first kiss.
Which was good on a multitude of levels. One, he’d been dying to find out if her pink lips tasted like the bubble gum they so resembled. And two, maybe he’d get some sleep, as thinking about kissing her and all the other erotic things a kiss could lead to was keeping him awake long into the night. Not to mention that thinking about it at work was distracting him from making a decision about his uncle’s company.
****
“Gail? What are you still doing here?”
Gail turned toward the now-familiar voice. Scott approached from the other side of the parking lot, several dry cleaning bags dangling from a crooked finger. Her heart rate accelerated. Honest to God it did. She hadn’t seen him since she answered his note. And now to see him while she had Mom in the car? Less than ideal.
She swallowed. “Actually, I’ve been home and back. I forgot…something and didn’t want to leave it here all night.” She’d been about to say she left the chocolates from him, but didn’t want Mom to get started. The box was tucked safely in her purse out of sight.
Mom rolled down the passenger window and poked her head out. “Who are you talking to out there?” Right on cue.
“My boss, Mom.”
“Al’s nephew, huh?”
“Yes.” Gail gave in to the inevitable. “Scott Callahan, meet my mom, Alice Robbins.”
Scott leaned down toward the open window and held out his free hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Robbins.”
Mom inclined her head. “Likewise.”
“Since I was coming back this way anyway, I talked Mom into having dinner with me.”
“Let me guess.” Scott’s eyes twinkled. “You’re headed to The Corral.”
“Yes, we are. I’ve got a hankerin’ for one of Zach’s burgers,” Mom answered for her. She cast a speculative look at Scott.
Uh-oh.
“You got a wife at home?”
For the space of a heartbeat, Scott seemed taken aback. Then his amused gaze flicked in Gail’s direction. “No, I don’t.”
Gail wished for a large hole to open up beneath her. Because next was…
“Well, then, why don’t you join us for dinner?”
Yep. Right on cue again. She tried to catch Scott’s eye. How to warn him?
“I’d like that.”
Gail groaned. Poor guy. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. “Are you sure you’re not sick of The Corral yet?” There was his out. Would he take it?
He looked over at her. “I like it there. The people are nice and friendly.” He winked. “Besides, I haven’t tried the restaurant yet, and everybody around here raves about it.”
Oh well. She’d tried. “Okay, then. We’ll meet you there.”
“He’s nice looking,” Mom said as soon as Gail got in the car.
She made a noncommittal sound. Nice looking didn’t even come close. Dashing. Gorgeous. Sexy. There went her crazy heart again. But no way in hell was she going there with her mother.
“I’m surprised he’s not married. And no girlfriend either?”
“He just moved here from New York. He hasn’t been here that long.” Had he left a girlfriend behind? A sophisticated city lady who wore fancy clothes when he took her to dinner and the theater. By comparison, what did he see in plain ol’ small town her?
Was she just a distraction? A way to kill time until he sold the company and headed back to his girlfriend in New York? Did he think she was an easy mark: a small town hick who would succumb to his worldly charms?
Gail mentally shook her head. Scott wasn’t like that. What she knew of him was good and kind. Besides, no way he would go through all the trouble of wooing—now there was an archaic word for you—her with Valentine gifts and silly, sentimental notes if all he wanted was a quick lay. Would he?
Gail shoved the disturbing thoughts—where the hell had they come from?—away as she pulled into the parking lot of The Corral. She retrieved Mom’s walker from the backseat, then set it by the passenger side. Scott, who’d pulled in next to them, opened the door, then offered his hand to help Mom out.
He shortened his stride to keep pace with them as they made slow progress through the gravel of the parking lot. Mom beamed up at him when he held open one of the double entrance doors.
“And manners, too,” she muttered over her shoulder to Gail.
No sooner had the hostess seated them—Mom and Gail on one side of the table, Scott on the other—handed out menus, and told them their waitress would be along shortly, then Mom started in. “So, Mr. Callahan, tell me about yourself.”
“Ah, I see. It runs in the family,” Scott whispered so only Gail could hear before turning to Mom. “Please, call me Scott.”
Gail hid a smile behind her m
enu. The teasing remark eased some of her earlier anxiety.
“I grew up in New York. Worked at Merrill Lynch up until about a month ago when I took over Thompson and Sons for Uncle Al.”
How long before he decided if he was going back or not? A pang gripped Gail’s heart. She fiddled with the stem of the red carnation in a vase on the table. Was there a girlfriend waiting?
“Where did you go to college?”
“I earned both my undergrad and MBA from Vanderbilt.”
Gail nearly choked on a sip of water. Vanderbilt? Talk about the elite of the elite. What could such an educated man see in someone who had settled for an Associate’s Degree? And dammit, where had this sudden insecurity come from?
Mom nodded. “A good education is the foundation for everything. I taught high school math for thirty years.”
“And I’ll bet you were everyone’s favorite teacher.”
Mom snorted. “Hardly, but kids learned a lot about life in my classroom, in addition to algebra and geometry.”
Scott turned to Gail. “Were you in your mom’s class?”
“Yep.” Which had made sophomore year…interesting, to say the least.
“So, no wife currently. Ever been married?”
Part of Gail wanted to crawl under the table. Mom was just hitting her stride. The other part was curious to hear the answer. Look at him. Why wasn’t he married? Maybe he was divorced.
Before Scott could answer, Pam arrived at the table. “Good evening, folks.” She looked between Scott and Gail. “Back here again, you two? I know Gail’s addicted to this place. Has she sucked you in, too?”
Mom’s eyebrows rose into her bottled-auburn hair.
Damn. The cat was out of the bag. “I’ll have a burger, medium well, with fries and a sweet tea,” she jumped in, hoping to forestall any embarrassing comment.
“For you, Mrs. Robbins?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“Me, too,” Scott said. “But make mine well done.”
Pam collected the menus. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
The air currents still whirled from the waitress’s departure when Mom said, “You two have been here together before?”
Valentine's Day at the Corral Page 3
