Page 13 of Protecting What Is Mine

I know what he meant, but I decide to play with him a little. “Oh yeah? Well, if that keeps up for very long, I’ll be living out of my car.”

“Huh?” Hank sits back, confused. “Oh. Ha ha. No, not great news about your tips. Sheesh. I just meant…” He scratches his head. “Wait, are you messing with me?”

I smile over my shoulder as I walk toward the coffee pot. “I hope all this thinking about one another means you want to go out again,” I say as I pick up the carafe to pour him a cup.

Hank nods in appreciation as I hand him the mug. “Thank you.” He blows at the steam before taking a sip. “You just tell me the when and the where and I’ll figure out how to make it happen.”

“Hmmm.” I bite at my bottom lip. “Let me think that over while I check on the other customers, okay?”

Hank bobs his head. “Sure thing.”

I glimpse him wiping at his eyes as I make my rounds. Poor thing, after weeks of near sleepless nights by his brother’s side, he must be running on fumes.

I slip behind the counter and set the carafe back on the hot plate as I make my way to Hank. “So…I know I’m kind of going out on a limb here, but…what would you think about karaoke night at The Lazy Saddle?”

Hank’s brow furrows. “They do that?”

“What?” I ask. “Karaoke night? Sure. Second Tuesday every month.”

Hank stares at his coffee. “Do I have to sing?”

I smile. “Well, no. It’s not like they check to make sure everyone who walks in the door actually gets up on stage. But I think if you’ll give it a chance, you might just find your voice.”

“Fat chance of that,” Hank blurts. “But trust me, it’s for everyone else’s benefit. It would have been damned unfair to the rest of the world if the good lord had granted me these looks and an amazing voice, you know? Regardless, I’d love to go and watch you. I’ll be your groupie.”

“Well, karaoke night is next Tuesday. Is that too little notice?” I ask.

Hank shakes his head. “Nah. I can make that work. Even if Gabe has to sleep in that goddamned chair for a night or two. Hell, the thought of him contorted up like a pretzel, trying and failing to find a comfortable position, almost makes the idea worthwhile in and of itself. Add in more time with you and it’s icing on the cake.”

“It’s a date, then?”

Hank nods. “Yes, ma’am. What time”—a yawn interrupts him as it forces its way out—“should I pick you up?”

“How about seven o’clock? Now, from the look of you, if you don’t get home to rest soon, you’re going to be dead on your feet.”

Hank takes a final sip of his coffee. “You’re right about that. I’ve got to be at the McCauley place this afternoon. Probably wouldn’t be too great for business if I fell asleep in his barn while I was working on his tractor.”

Hank stands, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill which he casually slides across the counter before picking up his hat and squaring it on his head.

“Be right back with your change.”

“No need. The difference from what I owe is yours.”

“No way.” I protest. “You only had a cup of coffee.”

“Yeah, but you can’t beat the service. Besides, I heard a rumor somewhere that today’s tips have been light.” Hank grins. “You have yourself a good day now,” he says, and then tips his hat as he turns to leave.

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