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“You know just about everybody, don’t you Vidalia?” Bobby asked.
She shrugged. “You live in the same town for as many years as I have, you get to know people.”
“I lived in the same town for more than a decade, and didn’t even know my next door neighbors.”
“Well that’s a shame,” she said softly. “They might have been nice folks. And I know they missed out by not knowing you.”
He lowered his head, but she saw the dimple dig into his cheek when he smiled. He had the most beautiful dimples. “I wish I was worthy of that praise, Vidalia,” he muttered.
Age hadn’t done him any harm, she thought, watching his face while he wasn’t watching hers. She wished she could say the same for herself.
Her hair was still just as dark and curly and long as ever, but there was a gray strand here and there. She had laugh lines around her eyes, but she would never regret those. Her daughters had put those there, every last one of them, and she wouldn’t trade the years raising her girls for a smooth-skinned face now. Her figure wasn’t stick thin anymore. Never had been, but the curves were curvier than they used to be—she was well aware of that, she thought, looking down at her strong, denim clad thighs.
She glanced sideways at Bobby and found his eyes on her. They were sliding down her body, as far as the table between them would allow, even though she wore ordinary jeans and an unbuttoned long-sleeved western shirt over a snug fitting tank, which was her usual attire. She also wore boots. She had to head to the corral after this to open up for the evening, so she hadn’t dressed up. Besides, she didn’t want him to think she was trying to impress him.
Bobby said, “I’ve got a proposition for you, Vidalia.”
She lifted her gaze from the menu she’d been pretending to peruse. “I’ll just bet you do, Bobby Joe.”
He smiled and waggled his eyebrows. “I never forgot, you know. That one night–”
Her menu fell to the table as if pushed from her hands by the breath that rushed out of her lungs. “That’s not what you said at the time.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “I mean the early part of it. When we danced all alone at the Corral and wound up making out like teenagers.” He smiled wistfully. “The only part I forgot is the part after we drank a little more.”
“A lot more,” she corrected, as she felt the blood rush to her face and lowered her head. Her relief that his memory of that night hadn’t returned was so huge she almost floated out of the chair. “I don’t want to talk about that night, though.”
“Why not? It was the greatest night of my life.”
“It was the greatest sin of mine. My greatest shame.”
He closed his eyes. “I’ve never stopped thinking about it.”
“I’ve never stopped trying to forget it. And if that’s what you came to talk about, then this lunch is over before it begins.” She slapped the menu closed, laid it on the table, and made as if to rise, but he shot his hands out to cover hers, and she stopped.
“I won’t bring it up again. I promise.”
She looked into his eyes. Everything in her shivered with memory, with an old longing she’d thought had died. But it had only been lying dormant, and apparently, growing bigger all the time. And now it was awake and alive and more powerful than ever before. She banked it and, giving a nod, relaxed into her seat again. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Bobby.”
“You won’t have to. My word is my word.”
“Good to know that hasn’t changed.” She heaved a sigh. “So back on topic, what’s this...proposition you have for me?”
“Ah, that. Well now, I need your help.”
“My help? With what?” She blinked across the table at him. “Not the saloon that you’re building to put mine out of business?”
He nodded precisely twice. She shook her head side to side in time with his nod. Bridget cleared her throat. “Here are those drinks.” She set a big mug of beer in front of Bobby and a china tea cup with a pink rose on the front and gold trim around the lip in front of Vidalia. “Do you know what you want to order yet?”
“You can’t be serious,” Vidalia said. Some distant part of her thought she should address the Haggerty girl, or at least postpone this discussion until she’d left again, but the words were flying free and she couldn’t stop them. “Why would Ihelpyou with your saloon?”
“Because I helped you with yours,” he said. Then he smiled his charming smile up at Bridget. “You have anything seasonal? I’m feeling festive.”
Bridget smiled right back, though she was clearly feeling a little nervous about having arrived at the wrong moment. “The specials are all festive. Grandma Betty’s idea of festive, anyway,” she said, and she pointed to the list of daily specials inside the menu. “Reindeer Pot Roast, which as you can guess is venison based. Holiday Ham or Turkey and Trimmings. Full meals or sandwich plates, your call.”
Vidalia was trying to drag her shocked eyes off Bobby Joe, but for the life of her, she couldn’t.
Bridget said, “Take your time. I’ll come back in a few minutes,” and then she hurried away.
