“I think we’re good,” Sawyer replied. When she left, Sawyer looked at Janis, his eyes lit with curiosity. “Now, tell me about you. I know you’ve worked at the bar for a long time, but I don’t know much about your personal life.”
“That’s because I don’t have much of a personal life,” she replied ruefully as she dragged one of her fries through a puddle of ketchup. “I live at the bar. I work at the bar. And that’s about the sum of it.”
“What do you do for fun?”
“I love to read and sometimes I just like to drive out into the country and sit and listen to the soft noise of nature at work.” A blush warmed her cheeks. “I know it probably sounds silly.”
“It doesn’t sound silly at all to me,” he replied. “Living with eleven other rowdy cowboys, sometimes I just need to get away and enjoy the sounds of nature. When that happens, I usually grab my fishing pole and head down to the pond.”
“That sounds like fun,” she replied.
“Maybe on a warm day I’ll take you to the pond with me.”
Her heart swelled at his words. “That would be nice,” she said. But once she told him the truth about the night before, he might be so angry he wouldn’t be speaking to her tomorrow or on the next warm day.
For the next hour they ate and talked and laughed. Sawyer seemed to be the man she’d thought he would be...easygoing, easy to talk to, and with a great sense of humor.
She loved the way his eyes shone when he talked about his work at the ranch and the other ranch hands, who were like brothers to him. She also liked that he was fiercely loyal to Cassie Bowie, who was Big Cass’s niece and had taken over the ranch after Cass had died.
It would be easy to allow her crush on him to blossom into something more, but first Janis had to tell him the truth.
She’d tell him at her doorstep, she thought. That way, if he was really angry with her, at least she’d already be home. Besides, she wasn’t ready for this pleasant time with him to end yet.
“Are you a dessert kind of girl?” he asked when they’d finished the meal.
“I wouldn’t turn up my nose at a piece of chocolate cake,” she replied.
“Then the lady shall eat cake,” he replied and gestured to get Carlie’s attention.
“I hope the lady won’t be eating cake all alone?”
He grinned at her. “I can’t walk out of here without eating a piece of Mandy’s fancy crème brûlée cake.”
“I noticed it was a new item on the menu. I’m assuming it’s good?”
His eyes warmed and a sensual curl of his lips shot heat through her. “It’s good enough to make a grown man weep,” he replied.
Oh, my, but she’d love for him to look that way, to talk that way, about her.
They had just been served their desserts and coffee when Tony Nakni, his wife, Mary, and Mary’s grandmother, Halena, came in.
Tony and Mary waved as they took a booth on the opposite side of the café, while Halena wove her way through the tables in the center to approach Janis and Sawyer.
“Hi, Halena,” Janis said.
Halena Redwing was one of the more colorful characters in Bitterroot. She had the proud, beautiful, facial features of her Choctaw blood and a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Rumor had it she loved dancing naked in rainstorms. She also had a penchant for funky hats and evening dresses.
Tonight she was clad in a red gown with glittery matching shoes. A little hat of black-and-red feathers sat atop her shiny silver hair.
“Evening, ma’am,” Sawyer said.
“Sawyer, it’s nice to see you out with a good woman,” Halena said. “It’s past time for you to get married and have a bunch of babies.”
“Halena.” Janis laughed. “We’re just having dinner,” she protested.
“Dinner is a good start and you could do a lot worse.” Halena leaned into Janis. “He’s got the sexiest, most pinchable butt in all of Bitterroot,” she said in a loud, mock whisper.
“Geez, Halena.” Sawyer’s cheeks flushed red.
“Just saying,” she said and then turned on her sparkly red shoes and headed back to the booth where Tony and Mary awaited her.
“Halena is definitely a pip,” Janis said.
“I swear that woman likes to torment me whenever she sees me,” Sawyer said, but his voice held a wealth of affection. “She steals my hat whenever she can and goes out of her way to embarrass me whenever possible.”
“At least she gave me some valuable information.” Janis grinned at him teasingly.
Once again Sawyer’s cheeks dusted with color. “And now would be a great time to change the subject.”
They lingered over coffee and their conversation remained light and easy.
“Favorite music?” he asked her.
“Anything country,” she replied.
“Favorite flower?”
“Pink roses. When I went to my first school dance, my date didn’t know he was supposed to get me a corsage. My dad ran to the florist and got me a beautiful corsage of pink roses. They remind me of love.”
“Favorite place to hang out in Bitterroot?”
She frowned thoughtfully. “The courtyard in the center of town is a nice place to sit and relax.”
Then it was her turn to fire questions at him. She learned that spring was his favorite season and he loved the sound of a redbird’s song. His favorite time of day was evening and he’d broken his arm when the other guys had dared him to ride a bull named Cowboy Crusher.
They spent a half hour firing all kinds of questions to each other. She was disappointed when their cups were empty and it was time to leave. But she knew work time came early for him at the ranch.
As she got into his truck, nervous butterflies took flight in the pit of her stomach. Now was the time of reckoning. She had to tell him that nothing had happened between them last night.
“This has been nice,” he said when they were a block away from the bar. “I feel like we sort of jumped the gun last night and now we need to work backward and get to know each other better.”
She gazed at him in the illumination of the dashboard. “Sawyer...about last night,” she began. She turned her gaze out the front window, unable to look at him while she made her confession. As his headlights splashed across the back of the bar, she gasped in horror.
* * *
Sawyer stared at the white paint sprayed across the dark wood of the building. The letters were huge—Janis Little is a Whore.
What the hell? Was this because of what had happened last night? Who else had known that he’d spent the night in her bed besides a couple of his friends?
Janis began to cry. “Oh, my God...wh-who would do this?” she said between her gulping sobs. “I... I’m not a whore. I’m not.”
She turned to look at him and in her eyes he saw not only shock and hurt, but also a fierce denial of the characterization the words gave her.
“Janis, of course you’re not...” he began in an attempt to calm her down. He turned off his headlights so the words were no longer visible in the darkness of the night.
“I’ve only had one lover in my whole life. Only one, and I’m thirty years old. You’re the one and only man who has ever stayed in my room overnight. I wasn’t a whore when I was growing up and I’m