One Night in Weaver...

“I think you’re the one with issues about a person’s career.” Sitting while he stood was unnerving, so she rose, lifting the trash bag by the knot and carrying it over to the door. She would drop it in the bin out back when she locked up and left. “Have you considered talking to someone about that?”

When she turned back to face him, he was sitting on the table, his arms folded across his wide chest. He looked amused. “You offering up your professional services?”

“Not mine,” she assured with a lightness she was far from feeling. She crossed back to the table and grabbed the towel and bottle. “It would be unethical.”

“Given our...personal connection.”

“Yes.”

“Pretty unsatisfying, if you ask me.” He pushed off the table.

She squeezed the towel in her fist. He suddenly seemed to tower over her. And every time she pulled in a breath, it carried his enticing scent. “Why is that?”

“I don’t get to avail myself of the services of the town shrink.”

She had to forcibly restrain a shiver when he reached out and slowly tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. His hand fell away just as slowly, fingertips grazing her earlobe along the way.

“And I am stuck thinking about the way you felt in my arms, still wishing we’d have had a chance to finish what we started.” His gaze dropped to her lips.

She swallowed. Hard. “Seth—” But she stopped, unsure of what she wanted to say. Or do. All she knew was that a huge part of her wanted him to just take the matter into his own hands so that she wouldn’t have to.

And how much of a coward did that make her?

His expression suggested that he knew exactly what she was thinking. “See you around, Doc.” He turned to go.

Annoyed with herself and her own paralyzing inhibition, she took a step after him. “Wait.”

He stopped and looked back.

She reached out, only to forget she was still holding the squirt bottle, and knocked him with it, accidentally spraying the front of his shirt.

Dismayed, all she could do was stare as the droplets immediately began leaching the fabric of its black color. “Oh, sugarnuts! I’m so sorry.”

“Sugarnuts?” He let out a bark of laughter. “What the hell kind of curse is that?”

“The kind I didn’t get sent to my room for when I was a girl. I’ll pay for a new shirt.”

He plucked the squirt bottle out of her hand. “I’m glad it wasn’t a loaded gun.”

She made a face and followed him to the bar as he replaced the bottle where he’d gotten it. “I don’t own a gun.”

He pointedly looked at his spattered shirt. “Good thing. Being shot in the gut has never been a goal of mine, even when I was in the army.”

She blinked a little. Her father had been in the military once upon a time and Seth, with his unshaven jaw and his tumbled hair, didn’t exactly smack of the discipline that still ruled her father even all these years later. “I didn’t know you were in the army.”

“Not something we ever got around to talking about.” He rounded the bar again and picked up the plate with his unfinished pie. “Always an adventure with you, Doc. Try not to hurt yourself before you get home.”

“What about your shirt?”

“Think I’ll live.” He was heading for the breezeway leading back to the restaurant. “I have a closet full of ’em.”

“If I can’t replace your shirt, maybe I can buy you dinner.” The words came out in a rush, surprising them both if the silence that followed was any indication.

He glanced back at her, one eyebrow lifted. “What was that?”

She swallowed, stiffening her spine a little. “You heard me.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, which only served to emphasize how dark and thick his eyelashes were. “A bleach-stained T-shirt isn’t worth dinner.”

“I know,” she managed, albeit a shade breathlessly. “But a, um, a gentleman might be worth it.”

He let out another short snort of laughter. “Just because I like my women conscious doesn’t make me a gentleman.” He spread his hand. “But I’m not gonna turn down a meal that doesn’t involve my own microwave.”

“Great.” She rubbed her damp palms down the sides of her jeans. “Uh...great. Any place you’d like to go?”

A faint smile was playing around his lips. “You don’t ask guys out very often, do you.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.

“Never,” she admitted. “Clearly, it’s just another thing at which I excel, like ruining a man’s work shirt.”

His long fingers splayed against the bleach spots across his abdomen. “Why don’t we start with lunch? Tomorrow. In the new park out past your office. Willow Park, I think it’s called.”

She wasn’t sure whether to feel elated or deflated. “I haven’t been there. I usually go to the community park right here downtown even though it’s farther from my office.” The park was just across the road from Colbys, in fact. It’s where she ran every weekend with Sam. It’s where he ran, though admittedly, she’d done her level best the past few months to avoid him, just as he’d accused her of doing.

He shrugged. “Just a suggestion. Thought you might relax more if you weren’t worried about encountering a lot of people you know.”

Now she definitely felt deflated. And indignant. “Because you’re a security guard?” Her voice was tart. “You’d be less worried about that if you knew how many student loans I am still paying off. And as it happens, I’m not free tomorrow during lunch. But I am for dinner. I’ll pick you up. Seven o’clock if that works for you.”

His voice, however, was smooth. And amused. “Seven’s fine.”

Still buoyed by indignation, she nodded sharply. “Good.”

But after he disappeared back through the doorway to the restaurant side of Colbys Bar & Grill, she couldn’t shake the vague sense that, while she’d finally found the nerve to ask out a man she was admittedly interested in, he’d been the one who’d gotten exactly what he wanted.

She shook her head sharply. Because it was already late and only getting later the longer she dawdled there, she quickly went about upending the chairs on top of the wiped-down tables. Then she swept up the bits of confetti on the floor, unloaded the dishwasher and steeled herself to go through the doorway to the restaurant to let Jerry know she was ready to leave.

Fortunately, only the cook was left. He was sitting at the counter nursing a cup of coffee.

Even better, there was no sign of Seth.

Which left her a solid twenty hours to get used to the idea that everything she’d believed for the past three months where he was concerned had been wrong.

And to get accustomed to the idea that she had done something she’d never done before in her life.

Asked a man out on a date.

Chapter Three (#ulink_30a38c17-449b-558d-ac45-a62b4235c987)

“So you didn’t sleep with pretty boy Seth Banyon.” Samantha Dawson sat on the bed in Hayley’s room, watching her paw through her closet for something to wear that would be appropriate for her dinner with Seth that evening.