glanced up, as if he hadn’t noticed her coming toward him. “Thank you, ma’am.” The beer foam was perfectly symmetrical. He raised the glass and admired it. “Very pretty.” He meant the compliment for her, but he could always claim he’d been talking about the head on his beer.
“Thanks.” She didn’t quite roll her eyes, but she looked as if she wanted to. She gestured toward the menu. “Would you like something to eat?”
He wasn’t hungry, but picking up a menu was a classic signal and there wasn’t much in the refrigerator at the cabin. “I would, indeed. What do you recommend?”
She paused, confusion shadowing her brown eyes. “Don’t you want your usual burger and fries?”
“I find myself wantin’ something different.” That she’d noticed his ordering pattern meant nothing, of course. Any good server would do that. But it pleased him, anyway.
“Well, then...you might try the barbecued-pork sandwich. Lots of people like that.”
“Do you like it?”
She hesitated, as if not wanting to give him personal information. “I’m partial to the burgers here,” she said at last.
“So am I. I’ll stick with my usual, after all.”
“Okay. I’ll put in the order.” She started to turn away.
“Tracy?”
When she looked back at him, her expression was guarded. “What?”
He tried to remember if he’d ever used her name, although he’d known it for days. Maybe not. Southerners tended to use ma’am most of the time. He took a deep breath, finally ready to tackle this situation head-on. “I’ve been coming in here quite a bit lately.”
“Yes, you have.” She didn’t seem particularly happy about it, either.
“And you’re always polite to me.”
“I certainly hope so. If I’m not nice to the customers, I would probably get fired.”
“I appreciate that, but I’ll bet there are some customers you look forward to serving and some you don’t.”
Her gaze became shuttered. “I’m grateful for any and all customers who come through the door. Without customers, Spirits and Spurs wouldn’t be in business.”
“Nice speech. I admire your dedication. But the fact remains that you don’t like me.”
She opened her mouth as if to reply. Then she closed it again.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to complain to anyone about it.” He sighed. “Hell, you’re in the majority around here when it comes to holdin’ a bad opinion of me. But nobody will say it to my face. They’re unfailingly polite and then they act like I have a contagious disease.”
“I’m Regan’s friend.” Her gaze turned very cold. “I’m also friends with his sisters. If you think my attitude is chilly, you should try having a conversation with Morgan, Tyler or Cassidy.”
“Yeah, I figured that wouldn’t work out, so I haven’t tried.”
“I know everything’s supposed to be hunky-dory between you and Regan. Lily told me all is well, but she’s the kind of person who would make excuses for a serial killer.”
“A serial killer? Isn’t that a bit harsh?”
“I know you haven’t actually killed anyone, but you betrayed your best friend.” Anger kindled in her brown eyes. “If you ask me, Regan’s letting you off way too easy.” Then she blushed and glanced away. “Sorry. I get a little worked up when I talk about this. It’s really none of my business.”
He thought she was mighty pretty when she was worked up, but he wisely didn’t say so. “I get the impression that it’s everybody’s business around here.”
She didn’t deny it, probably because she couldn’t. When she looked at him again, her gaze was disconcertingly direct. “Why stay, then? You patched things up with Regan, so why not go back to Virginia where...where you’re from.”
Where you belong. Although she didn’t say the words, they hung in the air. Except he didn’t belong in Virginia anymore. He couldn’t explain why, but the thought of returning to his old life made him shudder. Whoever he’d been back there wasn’t the man he wanted to be here and now. The location might have nothing to do with it, but he wasn’t going to take the chance that he’d fall into his old patterns.
He shrugged. “I must be a glutton for punishment.”
Something shifted in her expression. It became more open, and unless he was mistaken, she seemed genuinely interested in him for the first time ever. “I see.”
“What do you see?”
“That you’re doing some kind of penance.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.” The assessment made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t a masochist or a martyr.
“You just called yourself a glutton for punishment.”
“That’s an expression, something folks say. It doesn’t mean that I—”
“Hey, Drake!”
Intensely grateful for the interruption, he swiveled to face Regan, who came toward him looking like the seasoned cowboy he’d become, complete with boots, worn jeans and a ten-gallon hat. Drake had bought some boots and a couple of pairs of jeans that still looked new. He was holding off buying a hat. He couldn’t say why.
He held out a hand to Regan. “Hey, buddy! What’s up?”
“Not much.” Regan shook hands, but the dark eyes he’d inherited from his Italian mother moved quickly from Drake to Tracy. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nope!” Tracy waved her order pad. “I have to put in Drake’s food order and check on my other customers. Can I bring you something?”
“I’ll take a draft when you have a minute. I actually came in to see you, but I wanted to ask Drake a favor, too, so this is perfect.”
“All righty, then. I’ll be back.” She hurried toward the kitchen.
Regan slid onto a barstool on Drake’s right. “Did I interrupt something? You both looked mighty serious.”
“Not really. I made a dumb remark and she picked up on it.”
“What’d you say?”
“She wondered why I’m stayin’ here when nobody likes me, and I—”
“Hang on.” Regan shoved back the brim of his Stetson. “She actually said that nobody likes you? That doesn’t sound like Tracy.”
“Actually I’m the one who said that, but she didn’t disagree with me. You have to admit I’m not the toast of Shoshone, Wyoming.”
“Maybe
