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“He did, but I worked for him.” The words choked in his throat as if it was hard to express them.
I understood, but this wasn’t about his father being slighted. From what I understood, Jeremy Allen was a good man. “I view that differently. You were his partner. He made innovative decisions with you. This company grew because of decisions you made together.”
“I wish I was making those decisions now…”
I hated how defeated he sounded.
“I was going to go for a drink later on. It’s been awhile since we’ve hung out. I don’t even know if you’re the same or not. Want to go with me?”
“No work talk?” I had to ask. I was okay with hanging out with friends, but we had to leave the business relationship out of it.
“No. I just want to hang out with my college buddy.”
Sounded innocent enough. “So, you don’t care if I bring a friend or two?” I asked. Did I have friends waiting around in Coree Harbor, North Carolina? Nope, but I wanted to know if this was all a ploy.
“Sure. Do you need a ride, or will you find your way?”
“I have a rental. I’ll drive.”
“Good! I’ll see you around 7 at The Islands. It’s the pub on Main Street. Can’t miss it.”
I wrote the name down on a Post-it and put it in my planner. “I’ll see you then.” Question was, what did I wear to a small-town pub for a social call?
* * *
Walking in was uncomfortable as hell. I had nothing casual packed, so I’d worn a business skirt, button down, and my pumps. Made me stick out like a sore thumb when everybody else was in jeans and a T-shirt. Way overdressed, being stared at, and being ogled by the old oily man at the far corner of the bar, I grabbed the attention of everybody pretty quickly.
I looked around for Dante and easily saw that he wasn’t there. There were a group of six or seven guys off to the side, a couple playing pool, three other tables filled with two people, a bartender who seemed to double as a server, a cook plopping food into the food window, and I. No Dante. I pulled out my cell to phone him, but he didn’t answer. Uncomfortable, I waited for him outside, but as I turned, I knocked into somebody and lost my balance. Firm hands steadied me on my feet, holding me close.
“Whoa, girlie.” The recognizable voice was definitely Dante. “Going somewhere?”
“I was going to wait for you in the car,” I admitted.
“No need. I’m right here.” Dante pushed a single lock of hair out of my face, but his fingers lingered near my ear, provoking a shiver to rise from somewhere and spread over my skin. It seemed so natural, the way he studied me. His eyes lingered on my lips, a place he often stared at when we talked in person.
“Shall we sit?” I changed the subject, hoping to ease the nervous energy and break his focus on me.
Dante cleared his throat. “Yes.”
We sat at a table away from everyone else, and I was relieved. Eyes followed me as I walked, but the moment I sat down, they refocused on whatever they were supposed to be doing.
“Wow, I didn’t mean to be quite the spectacle,” I mumbled.
“Unfamiliar face in a small town will do that. Not to mention that you’re a little overdressed.”
“A little? I feel like nothing I brought with me would have been appropriate.”
“Who doesn’t travel with jeans?” Dante sounded as if he doubted I was being honest.
“I don’t even own jeans,” I admitted.
“What do you think you’re going to be wearing when we go to the farm?”
Talk about shock. His face filled with, “Where in the fuck is this girl from?” I couldn’t blame him.
“I didn’t know I needed to go there. Besides, we’re not here to talk about work,” I reminded him pointedly.
“We’re talking about your lack of jeans, not Allen’s Hooves. So, catch me up with your life. What have you been up to for the past eight years?”
