Page 11 of Country Mist

He settled his palm at the curve of her waist. “It looked like the event was a success.”

“It was.” She gave a happy sigh. “Perhaps one day I can paint full-time. I could leave event planning and focus on my art.”

They reached the steps to the Prickly Pear, and he smiled at her. “I’m sure you’ll be even more of a success.”

Haylee stopped beside him. “I’d still like to do something part-time on the side to interact with people and not just inanimate objects, but I’m not sure what. But it will take a while before I can afford sell my business, and I still have a name and reputation to build in the art world.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” He guided her up the steps to the front door and grasped the heavy wood and glass door handle. “Do you like prickly pear margaritas? Those are their specialty.”

She laughed. “Of course.”

Smells of bar food, beer, and margaritas flowed over her as she walked in. It was loud inside for a Saturday night, but not so much that they couldn’t hear each other talk. The hostess showed them to a table for two in the corner, away from the long mahogany and mirrored bar.

Tyson pulled out her chair and seated her before taking his own, close to her. The server swept in, took their drink order, and retreated into the crowded bar.

“Are you hungry?” Tyson picked up one of the menus the server had left behind and held it out. “You worked hard tonight.”

Haylee took the menu from him. “I wouldn’t call that work, but I am famished. I didn’t have dinner, and lunch was long ago.”

Her pulse slowed from the rapid pace it had been beating from being so close to Tyson. She looked over the selection, which wasn’t more than a fancy take on bar food.

She closed the menu and set it on the table in front of her and watched him as he perused his own. God, he was so good-looking. His hair was so dark it looked black in the low lighting, and his eyes were the kind of blue almost startling in intensity. He was handsome in a rugged, solid way, with square-cut features and a cleft in his chin.

Tyson glanced up from his menu and caught her staring at him. She had to force herself not to look away in embarrassment.

He set down his menu, his gaze never leaving her face. His firm lips curved into a sexy grin. “What’s on your mind, Haylee?”

The way he said her name, a low and sensual caress, melted her into a puddle of goo.

She shrugged, affecting casualness. “Not much.”

Relief swept through her as the server set a prickly pear margarita in front of her and a foam-laden glass of Guinness in front of Tyson.

Haylee ordered a black and bleu hamburger with bleu cheese and sautéed onions, and she picked truffle fries for her side. Tyson ordered a cowboy cheeseburger with steak fries and bacon-wrapped dates filled with cream cheese.

When their server had left, Haylee looked at him with amusement. “You must have missed dinner, too, if you plan on eating a half-pound cheeseburger.”

“I guess I was thinking about you and not dinner before I got here.” He grinned. “And when I saw you at the gallery, I knew I had to get you to go to dinner with me.”

Heat filled her chest. “You did a good job of warming me up.”

He looked at her over his glass, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Everything’s going according to plan.”

Haylee knew he was teasing her. She laughed then sipped her margarita, the sweet and sour drink flowing over her tongue, and tasted the salt on the rim. Like regular margaritas, she preferred salt rather than sugar on the rim of the prickly pear version.

She kept her hand on the thick stem when she set her glass down. Condensation dampened her fingers, and the scent of the beverage lingered in the air.

“I heard you went into the service after high school.” She leaned back in her chair. “Which branch of the military? What did you do?”

Tyson set down his beer. “I was an MP in the Army for a couple of years before I decided it was time I came home where I belong and dig my heels into ranching.”

“I understand you’ve developed a successful ranch over the years.” She put both her hands on the table at the base of her margarita glass. “It hasn’t been that long since you were in the service?”

He kept his gaze on hers as he reached out and put one of his large hands over her smaller one and gripped it. “Long enough.”

She swallowed. “I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m prying.”

“Nope.” He turned her hand over so that their palms touched. “I like that you’re interested in me.”

---