“You wouldn’t succeed if you tried,” Dallas countered even as her pulse quickened and she felt that little curl of excitement in the pit of her stomach. Both were purely a physical response to a man’s attention. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to feel such things that it was almost like the first time.
“How do I find Tillie’s?” he asked, taking his change from her.
“Turn right at the first block north of here. You’ll see a parking lot on the corner, probably jammed with vehicles. Next to it will be a one-story building with a neon sign in the window advertising Lone Star beer. That’s Tillie’s.”
Armed with directions from Dallas, Quint drove straight to the bar. He pulled into the corner lot as another pickup drove out, leaving an empty slot in the row that faced the building. Quint parked his pickup in it and made his way to the entrance located in the center of the building’s limestone front.
A muffled mix of music and voices reached him even before he opened the door. The volume grew decidedly louder when he walked into the dimly lit bar. His glance made a quick scan of the bar’s long and narrow layout.
A scattering of tables, all occupied, took up the front section with booths lining one short wall. A long, wooden bar, darkened with age, dominated the middle part, complete with a row of tall stools in front of it. A jukebox stood on the opposite wall, its speakers blasting out a rowdy drinking song by Toby Keith.
In between the two were more tables and chairs with a small space left empty in front of the jukebox, creating a dance area of sorts, but there were no couples making use of it. At the bar’s rear area, players were clustered around two pool tables, the green of their surfaces illuminated by the hooded fixtures suspended above them. Every now and then the crack of one ball striking another made itself heard above the blare of music and the din of voices.
Spotting an empty stool at the end of the long bar, Quint made his way to it, aware of the curious glances strangers always attract. He slid onto the stool and swiveled it slightly so he could keep an eye on the door.
There was a short, squat woman tending bar, a voluminous white apron tied high on her front, almost completely hiding the pink dress she wore. She had small dark eyes and a mop of tight red curls, a bright color that obviously came from a bottle. Quint surmised that she had to be Tillie.
After an initial, sharp glance in his direction, she pulled a pair of long necks out of a cooler, popped their tops, and set them out for the waitress to collect, then wiped up a water ring before she ventured to his end of the bar.
“What’ll you have?” Her dark eyes made a close and thorough study of him.
“A beer,” he replied. “Whatever you have on tap is fine.”
Without an acknowledging word, she moved off, grabbed a clean mug off the shelf, filled it with beer from the tap, and carried it back to him. She stopped short of setting it on the counter before him, her eyes narrowing into dark points.
“Are you that new guy that took over the Cee Bar?” she demanded.
“Yes.”
“I figured you probably were.” She plopped the mug on the counter. “That’ll be two dollars, cash.” She stood there, making it plain that she wasn’t about to leave until he paid for his drink.
Quint took a couple one-dollar bills from his pocket and pushed them across the counter to her. She scooped up the money and stuck it in her apron pocket, then reversed direction and headed to the opposite end of the bar.
Within minutes, Quint sensed a change. There were no more curious glances directed his way. Any that he happened to encounter were quickly averted. One by one the stools closest to him were vacated until only those at the opposite end of the bar were occupied.
For the first time, he questioned the wisdom of asking Dallas to meet him here for a drink, aware that his reasons were completely selfish. He had just decided to leave before she could arrive when she walked through the door.
He was held motionless by the sight of her. Her hair was down, falling loose and soft about her face. All the previous times it had been confined by a clasp or tucked under a cap; the change was stunning.
But it was more than her hair that was different. Gone was the plain white blouse that she’d worn at the restaurant. In its place was a snug-fitting T-shirt that molded itself to the rounded contours of her breasts and stopped a centimeter short of her waist. It was a soft green color that highlighted the coppery sheen of her hair and the tan shade of her eyes. The result was all woman, breezily confident and subtly sexy.
Quint tried to be sorry that he hadn’t left before she came, but he couldn’t. Those twinges of conscience weren’t nearly as strong as the raw desire he felt.
“Hi.” She climbed onto the stool next to him, her lips glistening with a fresh coat of coral gloss that seemed to invite him to test their slickness. “I got through sooner than I thought.”
“Sooner than I expected.” He was glad about that.
“Hello, Tillie.” She smiled at the woman with easy unconcern. “I’ll have a beer, same as him,” she said, pointing sideways at Quint.
Quint had the money out and on the counter when she returned with Dallas’s beer. Tillie glanced at the bills, then shot a pointed look at Dallas.
“Are you going to let him pay for it?” The question bordered on a warning that forcibly reminded Quint of his previous misgivings.
“That’s the general idea,” Dallas replied.
The woman shook her head in mild disapproval, swept up the money, and stuffed the bills in her apron pocket with the rest.
Quint waited until she moved out of earshot.