style="font-size:15px;"> If this woman had walked into the officer’s club, he’d have beat everyone to the front of the line to buy her a drink. But here, he just didn’t.
They had a pleasant, meaningless conversation. Sid took his plate, refilled his Coke and put his bill on the bar. Neely took a few more bites of salad and then blotted her lips, looked at her watch and said, “Well, I’m off. Late again.” She fixed her black wrap around her shoulders and stood. “Hey, I have an idea. I have a reservation for one for dinner tonight. A very interesting and cozy little restaurant in Aurora—Henry’s. I’d be pleased to make it for two. Let me take you to dinner as a welcome-to-Colorado gesture. And maybe we’ll get to know each other better.”
“That’s very nice of you,” he said, not standing. “I’m afraid I have plans tonight. But thank you.”
She very confidently turned over the receipt for her lunch, popped out a pen and scribbled on the back. The name of the restaurant and her phone number. Also, 7:00 p.m. “Sometimes plans change,” she said, and then she winked at him.
Really, she winked. This was a moral dilemma. She was sex waiting to happen. He wasn’t above that.
Sid was suddenly standing in front of him. “Can I get you anything else?”
“You were right about the burger,” he said. “Outstanding.”
“You had a good lunch, then,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“It was the most interesting one in Timberlake so far.”
“Oh?” she said, raising her tawny eyebrows.
“You’re not fooling me,” he said. “You heard every word.”
“Oh, of course I didn’t,” she said. “I never do!”
“You’re full of shit, Sid,” he said, grinning. He threw some bills on the bar and told her to keep the change. And he left Neely’s receipt on the bar.
Dakota had a very productive afternoon. He checked on Sully, did a little restocking for him, had coffee with old Frank, who was like a fixture at the store, and saw Sierra when she came by the Crossing to see if she was needed for anything.
“Want to come to dinner tonight?” she asked him. “It’s just me and Molly. I’m thinking grilled cheese and a chick flick.”
“Oh God, that’s so hard to pass up,” he said. “I’m going to take my chances on Cal’s big screen. There has to be something on. Or I could read...”
Sully snorted.
“Hey, I can read!”
“I’m sure you can,” Sully said.
“I guess that was a no,” Sierra said.
“If you want me to come over, I will,” he said.
“As a matter of fact, I enjoy my nights alone with the dog,” she said. “I’m just looking out for you.”
“As a matter of fact, I do okay on my own, too,” he said. But he kissed her forehead in a very sweet big-brotherly fashion.
At six thirty he entered the bar and grill in Timberlake and sat up at the bar. It was only moments before Sid saw him. She pleasured him with a sly half smile. She put down a napkin in front of him. “You’re going to be late.”
“For what?” he asked, showing her his megawatt smile.
“Dinner at the chichi restaurant, which isn’t Henry’s by the way. It’s Hank’s. And it’s expensive. She was buying, you idiot.”
“She winked at me,” he said. “I was terrified.”
She threw her head back, her strawberry blond ponytail rippling in time to her laughter. “I bet you were torn,” she said when she stopped.
“Okay, truth, I thought about it for a second. But my experience is, that is not a good sign. If it’s that bold, it’s loaded. With trouble.”
She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you. I don’t know anything about her.”
He grinned at Sid and it was completely genuine. “You are such a liar.”
“And what can I get you?” she asked.
“A beer. Whatever is on tap.”
“Are you having anything to eat with that?”
“No. I’ll be thinking about food with my next beer. I bet you see and hear some stuff in here.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. She served him up a beer. “I had to sign a confidentiality agreement to work here. Your priest isn’t as safe as I am.”
“Cocky,” he said. “You hear a lot of jokes, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m even learning to tell a few. I have to practice in front of the mirror.”
“I bet you don’t,” he said with a laugh. “I’m very experienced in talking to bartenders and you’re not what you seem.”
“I can assure you, I’m exactly what you see,” she said.
“Okay, what did you do before bartending?” he asked.
“Don’t you think that’s a little personal?” she returned.
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Unless you were in the Secret Service or something.”
“If I was, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
“If you were, you’d have a cover,” he said. He disarmed her with his smile.
“I worked in computers,” she said. “Very dull. In a room without windows. Figuring out programs and stuff. It’s what everyone in California is doing these days. What did you do in the Army?”
He leaned back, almost satisfied. “I mostly trained to go to war and then went to war. My last shift was Afghanistan. And that’s when I decided I’d rather pick up trash.”
“Really? That sounds like a dramatic change.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Do you know a guy named Tom Canaday?”
“Sure. I know Tom. Everyone knows Tom.”
“I met him. Hell of a nice person, Tom. He’s had all kinds of jobs, being a single father and all. He said roadwork, refuse pickup and plowing in winter pay very well and have great benefits. He said he still works for the county part-time.”
“You weren’t kidding about picking up trash,” she said. And then her cheeks turned a little pink.
“Aha! I knew it! You never miss a thing!” He laughed at her.
“How’d you meet Tom?” she asked.
