“Maybe it was a bad idea for you to meet me here,” he said, still keeping an eye on the bartender.
Dallas glanced sideways at him, a smile showing. “I knew what I was doing when I came. But it’s nice that you’re a little concerned.”
“If Rutledge retaliates over this,” Quint began, anger fisting inside him, “I want to know.”
Dallas smiled at his noble words, wise enough to know there was absolutely nothing Quint Echohawk could do about it if Rutledge chose to make an example of her.
“A warning is likely all I’ll get,” she replied, knowing that the threat would come only if she repeated the offense.
“He has that much leverage that a warning would be enough?” Quint lifted the beer mug and took a sip from it.
“This is a small town,” Dallas reminded hi
m. “If he isn’t the landlord or employer, then he’s the biggest customer. He has the leverage. As the old saying goes—it’s his way or the highway.”
“What keeps you here?” There was something more personal than idle curiosity in the warm probe of his gaze.
“Right now it’s practical. The rent’s cheap, my job at the feed store pays above average, and it’s an easy commute for my night courses at college.” Dallas omitted any mention of her grandfather and his reluctance to leave the area. “And if everything goes according to plan, in a couple more years I’ll have my degree. It’s hard to say where that might take me. Somewhere else though, I’m sure.”
“Have you decided on your major?”
“Business administration,” she answered without hesitation. “Although I still haven’t decided if I want to focus on the financial side or management.”
“Either way you’ll be carrying a bunch of accounting courses.”
Dallas was surprised that he would know that. There was only one logical conclusion to be drawn from that. Still she hesitated.
“Did you go to college?”
“I have a feeling you’ve never met a cowboy who knew his way around a university campus before.” His look was lightly teasing. “You might be surprised to learn that it isn’t uncommon these days for a Triple C ranch hand to have a degree in his pocket.”
Dallas realized that her initial impression of him as an ordinary cowboy had colored much of her thinking. But a common ranch hand wouldn’t have been sent here to take over the Cee Bar.
“I think I remember hearing somewhere that the Triple C is a big ranch. Is it?” she wondered.
“Bigger than most.”
“Is it bigger than the Slash R?”
“Yes.”
Dallas had only to consider the immense power and wealth Max Rutledge could wield to know that Triple C’s size was irrelevant when it was well over a thousand miles away.
“Have you worked at the Triple C long?” she asked instead.
“No, not long. Why?”
“Just curious,” Dallas admitted, aware that her motive was nothing more than a simple desire to know more about him. Although he hadn’t been exactly forthcoming in his answer. It made her wonder why he was so guarded. She laughed out loud when a possible reason popped into her mind. “If you’re worried that Rutledge is using me to get all the information I can about you, you can forget it. I promise you, I’m not his pawn.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” There was a smoky intensity to his steady gaze that sent her pulse skittering all over the place.
“You’re smart to be cautious, though.”
His smile widened. “That sounds like a compliment.”
“It is.”
“Now that your opinion of me has improved a little, maybe you might accept if I asked you to dance.”