Page 27 of Legacy of Lies
After a few awkward restarts, she finally steered the conversation toward benign topics like weather and ranching, but the tension remained.
After he set his empty glass down, he threw a few bills onto the table. “This was nice.”
“Well, mostly.”
He tapped the table. “Hey, we all have our pasts. No worries about anything that was said, okay?”
“Sure.”
“And yes, it was a nice evening. Two adults having a dinner together.”
“Like normal people?”
“Normal. Exactly.” He scooted out of the booth and turned his palm up. “Ready to go?” Was that a double entendre? His dark gaze danced as he studied her.
Her heart thudded as she eyed the tall rancher.You have no idea.Putting her hand in his, she let him help her out of the booth and into her coat.
Despite herself, she smiled. Then froze.
“What?” He turned around.
“Sara?” From the front of the restaurant, a man ambled toward them, with that wide, confident stance.
Hank. She would know that sneer anywhere, and she knew better than to trust the smile. He could turn on a dime. The meal burned in her stomach; she would pay good money to be anywhere but here right about now.
“I don’t want to talk with him,” she muttered.
Garrison gave a sharp nod. “Done. With pleasure.”
Hank hadn’t changed much. Same beard, same unkempt brown hair, same attitude, like a man who wanted to pick a fight with everyone. Handsome to look at but ugly when he opened his mouth. Even now, he planted his feet and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
But then he smiled, all charm. Classic Hank. “Hi, Sarita.”
She didn’t use that name, and he knew it.
He sniffed. “You’re looking lovely as usual this evening.”
“Thank you, Hank. This isn’t the best time to chat, so you have a good day.”
“How have you been?” He grinned.
“We’re just leaving.” Garrison tugged her toward the door.
“Good luck, Taggart.” The sneer slid from under his curled lip.
He whipped around. “What?”
Crap.
“You know she’s a loser, right?” At least Hank had the courtesy to keep his voice down. Judging by the darting glances and whispers, way too many patrons found the meeting far too interesting for her comfort.
A muscle popped in Garrison’s jaw. Holy mother of God.
“Hey, now, that’s uncalled for, Brand. Come on, Sara, let’s go.”
She pasted on the blandest smile she could muster. “Hank, so nice to see you. Please give my best to your family. You have a good night now.”
His eyes bulged, and the pleasant facade melted into true, red rage. “Your best isn’t good enough for my family, or anyone.”
