I Do! I Do!. Pamela Toth
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tossed her head, red-streaked ponytail bobbing. It had been good to be told that Dax was a rat who didn’t deserve her. Perhaps she should have seen it coming—especially the way he’d stalked out of his little poker party after she crashed it. She’d been prepared to forgive his tantrum over a nice lunch. Instead he’d dumped her as coolly as canceling an appointment.
Before she got involved again just because she didn’t want to say no and dent some man’s fragile ego, maybe she needed to spend a little time figuring out what she needed. With a huff of self-righteousness, she grabbed a bottled water from the ancient refrigerator and went into the bedroom to change her clothes for work.
Just because she intended to turn over a new leaf didn’t mean she wouldn’t care about looking especially hot at the bar tonight. So that everyone who came in to find out if she was devastated could see exactly what Dax Traub had foolishly tossed aside.
* * *
Mitchell Cates sat in a corner booth at the Lounge, nursing a beer from some local micro-brewery he’d never heard of. It was early yet, too early for the dark-paneled lounge to have more than a couple of other customers.
Broodingly he watched a pair of tourists seated at the bar flirt with the bartender on duty. When she threw back her head and laughed at something one of the men said, Mitch found himself wishing he could make Lizbeth laugh like that. He could almost feel the melting warmth of her smile, see the sparkle of interest in her big dark eyes.
Tonight Lizbeth looked especially gorgeous with her dark red-brown hair piled on top of her head, curls and glittering ribbons bouncing in all directions. She was like a brightly colored bird, full of life and energy. What might be messy or overdone on most women looked just right on her. As did her clingy strapless silver top and short black skirt. How could such a petite body come equipped with legs that went on for miles?
He enjoyed watching them every time she came out from behind the bar. Just thinking about her made his mind shut down and his tongue flop around in his mouth like a trout on a hook. He felt like a kid with his first crush.
Scowling, he watched the two men at the bar get to their feet.
“Aw, come on, baby, loosen up,” coaxed the one in the baseball cap, leaning toward Lizbeth as the other tossed some bills onto the bar. “It’ll be fun. Trust us.”
Shaking her head, she pointed to the older bald man polishing glasses at the far end of the bar. “It wouldn’t be fair to Moses if I left.”
The man who’d spoken to her glanced around the dim room, gaze sliding past Mitch as though he were invisible.
“It’s dead here,” he argued with a sweep of his hand. “Old Mose can handle it.”
The three of them continued to banter until a gray-haired couple walked in and sat in an empty booth. The man looked over at Lizbeth expectantly.
Bidding goodbye to her rowdy admirers, she went over to take the couple’s order. While she was distracted, Mitch took a determined breath and carried his glass to the bar. Ever since he’d heard earlier that she and Dax had broken up, he’d been thinking about approaching her. Rehearsing in his head what he would say when he did. Trying not to think about the fact that she’d dated, albeit briefly, his own charming, witty, successful brother before getting mixed up with Traub.
Mitch had never felt less charming or more nervous than he did now as Lizbeth finally came back after serving the older couple their drinks.
“Mitchell Cates,” she said gaily, her dark eyes sparkling just for him. “Can I get you another beer?”
Gut clenching, he barely glanced at his half-full bottle. “I’m good, thanks.” His mind went blank. “Slow night,” he blurted, forgetting all the clever comments he’d thought out earlier.
If she thought him a dull clod, she didn’t let it show. “It’s early yet,” she replied agreeably. “Business picks up later.”
“When do you get through work?” he asked, scorching heat searing his face. “I, uh, didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he added, fumbling. He managed to bump his beer bottle, then caught it before it could spill.
She shook her head. The subdued lighting made the red streaks in her hair shimmer. “Don’t worry, Mitchell.” Reaching across the bar, she patted his hand. “I didn’t take it wrong.”
He felt that brief touch all the way up his arm and down to his toes. It probably kicked up his blood pressure as it loosened his tongue. Now or never.
Lizbeth glanced past him as another customer walked by. “Good night, Mr. Sinclair,” she called before shifting her attention back to Mitch. “I’ll be right back.”
He turned to admire the sassy twitch of her hips as she collected the check, wiped the table and picked up the dirty glass. Dumping it behind the bar, she came back to where he sat.
He wiped his damp hands on his thighs. “Do you like working here?” he asked. She certainly got on well with the customers, sometimes too well.
She shrugged, making her gold hoop earrings dance. “It’s better than my last job at the accounting office.” She rolled her eyes expressively. “Boring.”
Mitch joined in her laughter. As long as they talked about jobs and careers, he was on solid ground. His was the world of a businessman who’d built his company from one idea, one clever invention, into a brand that was well-known in ranching and farming circles throughout the country and beyond.
When he attempted to cross over to the other side—the social arena of small talk and flirting—he stepped into quicksand. And never more so than when he talked to Lizbeth.
“Have you ever thought about changing jobs?” he asked, hoping desperately for a few more moments alone with her before more thirsty customers showed up.
There was more than one way to get to know someone. Especially someone as appealing as Lizbeth, idly tracing figure-eights on the surface of the bar carved from walnut burl.
Since her world unnerved him so badly, he hoped to bring her into his.
From her surprised expression when she looked up, he realized he’d managed to throw her a curve. “I think about working somewhere else all the time,” she admitted with a wary glance at Moses. “I’ve already changed jobs so many times that I just didn’t know if it would be a good idea again unless something really perfect came along.”
He ignored the sudden feeling of hesitancy. “So you might be open to suggestions?”
She batted her long lashes, clearly not thinking he was serious. “Just what did you have in mind?”
He resisted the temptation to let his attention wander from her smoky brown eyes to her sweet, full lips. “A legitimate job offer,” he replied. “I promise.”
Liz studied Mitchell Cates, trying to figure out his game. She got hit on all the time in this job, but he didn’t seem the type. He came across as clever, driven, reserved—and every bit as handsome as his brother Marshall. Especially when Mitch smiled as he was doing right now.
Maybe he was more of a player than she’d first thought. She doubted he did his employment recruiting in bars.
Curious, she rested her elbows on the polished wood slab. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to listen,” she replied, ignoring the inexplicable feeling of disappointment that he was probably just like other guys.
At least he was someone to talk to. Once the room started jumping, she and the staff coming on in an hour would be lucky for a moment to breathe between drink orders.
“Are you familiar with my company, Cates International?”
“Sure. You make tractors, don’t you?” She’d driven past the large complex at the edge of town without paying much attention. With her new plan to put herself first, she needed to make a habit of recognizing opportunities, no matter how unlikely.
Especially