Guardian Cowboy. Carla Cassidy
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else, so that he knew she wasn’t the kind of woman to just fall in bed with a random guy.
She shoved away thoughts of Sawyer, finished her coffee and went into the bathroom for a long shower. Her work schedule today was from three to closing time at midnight. The bar was open until midnight Mondays through Thursdays, and then stayed open until two on Fridays and Saturday nights. The place opened at eleven thirty every day.
Sundays, the bar was closed and Janis usually had the day off on Thursdays. However, she intended to talk to Gary about working without pay for the next couple of Thursdays to pay back whatever he’d had to give the men who had painted the building the night before.
She dressed in the T-shirt that advertised the bar across the chest and jeans that were her usual uniform. She then turned on the small television on the dresser in an effort to find something to take her mind off Sawyer and the horrible spray-painted message.
At least the weather report was for a nice spring warm-up over the next few days. Everyone would welcome nicer temperatures without the blustery wind.
By three o’clock she was more than ready to go to work. She was sick of her own brooding and ready to visit with the patrons who came in.
The minute she entered the bar proper, Annie rushed over to her. “Guess what I heard?” she asked.
Every one of Janis’s stomach muscles instantly tightened. Oh, God, had somebody seen the spray paint before it was covered? Was she now the topic of all kinds of rumors and speculation around town?
“What did you hear?” she asked, holding her breath to wait for the answer.
“I heard that a certain woman was seen having dinner with a hot cowboy last night. I want all the details.”
Janis laughed with more than a little bit of relief. “First, I want to know how you heard about it.”
“You know my grandmother is good friends with Halena, who told her this morning while they had coffee together, and then my grandmother told me. Now...details please.”
“I had the chicken wrap with french fries and Sawyer had a burger and fries,” she told her. “Then we both had dessert and coffee.”
“Don’t make me slap you upside the head,” Annie replied. “You know that’s not what I care about. Did you like him? Did he like you? Are you going to see him again? Did he kiss you?” The words tumbled out of Annie’s mouth in usual Annie style.
“I like him. I don’t know if he likes me. I don’t know if I’ll see him again. And it’s none of your business if he kissed me.”
Annie’s eyes sparkled. “So, he did kiss you! Was it a sweet kiss or a hot, tongue-and-all kiss?”
“Annie, stop,” Janis replied with more laughter. She could always count on her friend to pull her out of the doldrums. Annie was unfailingly cheerful and truly interested in everything and everyone. “It was just dinner out...no big deal.”
“I know you’ve had a crush on him forever, so him asking you out is a very big deal,” Annie stated. “Who suggested dessert? Him or you?”
“He did.”
“That’s awesome. That means he likes you and wanted to spend a little more time with you,” Annie proclaimed.
“And I’m sure some of the customers around here would like the two of us to quit chatting and get to work,” Janis replied.
“I hate it when you act like the manager of this place,” Annie said with a fake pout.
“Do I need to remind you that I am the manager of this place?” Janis laughed as Annie danced away to the section she’d be working that day.
Janis greeted Chance Aldrich, who worked as their part-time bartender. He had a ranch on the outskirts of town, but Janis guessed things weren’t going too well there for him to have to pick up extra money bartending.
There were several people already in their usual places in the bar. Lester Caldwell, one of the grumpiest old men in Bitterroot, sat at the bar, nursing a whiskey. Lester complained about the drinks, the food and the music, yet he sat on the same stool every afternoon from about three to five.
Myles Hennessy was also a regular. A pleasant man in his late fifties, he shamelessly flirted with the waitresses and loved the bar’s pulled pork sandwiches with fried pickles.
For the most part Janis enjoyed the people who frequented the bar. It was only occasionally, on a busy Friday or Saturday night, that too much alcohol combined with too much testosterone and a fight ensued.
“Hi, Lester,” she said as she greeted the old man. “Can I get you a fresh one?” She gestured to the empty glass before him.
“Okay, but don’t water it down none. I swear every drink I get in this place is watered down to profit the bar,” he grumbled.
She knew there was no reason to waste her breath explaining to him that if he wanted a whiskey on the rocks and nursed it for over an hour, the odds were good the ice cubes would melt and water down the alcohol. He would concede the point and then find something else to grouse about.
As the evening approached, more people came in and, thankfully, it was impossible for Janis to think about anything but filling orders.
At six o’clock Sawyer walked in alone. He greeted several people as he wove his way to a booth in Janis’s section. Janis couldn’t help the way her heart leaped at the sight of him.
“Sawyer, I don’t usually see you in here during the week,” she said in greeting.
“I wanted to come in to see how you were doing,” he replied. He placed his brown cowboy hat next to him on the seat.
“I’m okay,” she replied.
“I wanted to call you earlier, but I realized we didn’t exchange phone numbers last night. Want to do it now?”
Her heart fluttered. “Sure.” She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket, pleased that last night’s drama hadn’t put him off.
“Can I get you the usual?” she asked once they’d shared their numbers. His usual would be a tall glass of beer.
He hesitated a moment and then shook his head. “No, I think today I’d like just a plain soda with a couple of limes thrown in.”
She tried to hide her surprise. “Okay. I’ll be right back with it.”
Annie met her at the bar. “Oh, my God, Janis. He must be so into you,” she said. “He never comes in here by himself or on a weekday.”
“I know,” Janis replied. But he wouldn’t be so into her when she told him the truth about their night of passion. She needed to tell him. It was possible he was just being overly nice to her now because he felt guilty about that night.
But she didn’t tell him that evening, or the next when he once again showed up and ordered a soda with lime. Instead, when she was between waiting on people, she stood next to his booth and they continued to get to know each other better.
Wednesday evening when he came in, she knew she couldn’t put it off another minute. So far their conversations had been pleasant. They’d talked about the nicer weather and his work around the ranch.
He’d told her that Trisha Cahill, who’d married fellow ranch hand Dusty Crawford, was pregnant and that Dusty was over the moon. In turn, she’d told him that she’d heard rancher Abe Breckinridge and his wife, Donna, were down with the flu and that Janine Willis, who worked at the grocery store, had taken a fall and broken her hip.
They’d talked about nothing in depth and she still had no idea how he’d react when he learned what she had done to him.
Even though she got to know him better the more time she spent with him, she’d like to know him even more. She wanted to know what he dreamed about, what life events had made him