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“I asked you to have lunch with me.” But his tone was more of a command than a request.
Dallas took a cha
nce just the same. “Thanks, but I brought mine.”
He never blinked. “Save it for tomorrow.”
Even as she searched for a plausible excuse to refuse, Dallas didn’t fool herself into thinking his interest was personal—or, at least, not the man-woman kind.
“Now, you aren’t still holding a grudge because your grandfather lost his ranch, are you?” Boone chided lightly.
“Of course not,” she replied, unable to classify the strong distrust she felt as a grudge.
“Then quit your hemming and hawing around,” Holly Sykes inserted, “and get going. I can handle the store while you’re gone.”
Seeing no way out, Dallas gave in to the inevitable. “It will take me a couple minutes to log off the computer and straighten my desk,” she told Boone. “Why don’t I meet you there?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”
His words seemed to carry a warning that if she didn’t show up, he’d be back. Dallas had already figured that out for herself.
By the time Dallas parked her pickup in front of the Corner Café, she had reached the conclusion she had been wrong to think the warning from Sykes on Monday was the only one she would receive. Obviously Max Rutledge felt another one should be given to underscore the first, and he had sent Boone to deliver it. Although why Boone hadn’t issued it at the feed store she didn’t know.
“And the condemned ate a hearty meal,” Dallas murmured under her breath as she walked into the café.
She faltered ever so slightly when she saw Boone seated at the table Quint always occupied. Had he known that? she wondered, then reminded herself that nothing happened in this town that the Rutledges didn’t know about.
Her chin lifted a fraction of an inch as Dallas mentally steeled herself to get through this meeting without saying or doing something she would ultimately regret.
At her approach, Boone rose and pulled out the chair to his right. Dallas smiled a little stiffly and sat down, belatedly noticing that the nearest tables were empty of customers, providing an island of privacy in a public place. Something Boone had no doubt arranged.
The isolation added to the tension she already felt. Needing something to occupy her hands, she reached for the menu.
“You mean you don’t have it memorized?” Boone remarked with amusement.
“Just checking to see what today’s lunch special is,” she replied.
Tension had robbed Dallas of her appetite, but when the waitress arrived, she ordered a bowl of homemade beef stew and coffee. Coffee probably wasn’t the best choice of drink, she realized afterward, considering how tightly strung her nerves already were.
“A bowl of stew—that isn’t much of a meal,” Boone remarked.
“Too much food makes me sleepy, and I have a full afternoon’s work ahead of me.” Dallas propped the menu back against the napkin holder, aware that his gaze hadn’t strayed from her.
“I’m sure Holly will appreciate that. He says you’re good at your job.”
“I try to be.” Dallas was certain this small talk was simply a means to kill time until the waitress returned with their drink orders. She was impatient with it just the same.
“According to Holly, you succeeded.” He stretched out one long leg and hooked an arm over a corner of the chair’s backrest. “As warm as it is today, it’s hard to believe Christmas is just around the corner. Do you have all your shopping done?”
“All the presents are bought, wrapped, and under the tree.”
“I wish I could say the same.” He rocked his chair onto its rear legs, making room for the returning waitress when she reached across him and set his mug of coffee on the table.
She placed another cup in front of Dallas and beamed a smile at Boone, promising, “Your order should be up shortly.”
“We’re in no hurry,” Boone told her.
Dallas could have disputed that, but she reached for her coffee instead. Steam rose in curling wisps from the hot coffee. She blew lightly on its surface before taking a sip.
