The Family Gathering. Robyn Carr

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      “This is a popular place,” he commented, making conversation.

      “It’s almost the only game in town. We don’t compete with the diner—they’re better for breakfast, pie, soup, hot meals like roast beef, meat loaf, chicken pot pie. Home cookin’.” She smiled.

      “Well, you’re right about the burger. Damn near burned my tongue off,” he added with a laugh. “You seem to know everyone.”

      She gave the counter a wipe. “That takes about three days around here. And you’re not from around here.”

      “I’m visiting,” he said. “I have some family nearby but today was a good day to look around. Have you been here all your life?”

      “Unlike most of the population, no. Not from around here. Born and raised in South Dakota, worked a few years in California and now I’m here for a while.”

      “We have that in common,” he said. “What’s ‘a while’ for you?”

      She shook her head absently. “It’s been a little over a year so far. I didn’t plan that.”

      “What’s holding you?”

      “Besides the clean air, views, weather and people?” she asked with a lifted brow. “This is my brother’s place. I intended to help out for a little while, but...” Another shrug. He understood that—his future plans were full of shrugs, too.

      “Your brother has a nice little place,” he said.

      “So, where do you come from?” she asked.

      He stopped himself from wincing. He’d have to remember to ask Sierra and Cal if everyone knew they all grew up in a bus. “I’m fresh out of the Army. I’m going to take a little time to decide what’s next. I’m going to see if there’s any work around here to keep me while I think it out. Like you said, lots to like around here.”

      “Army? That’s a big commitment.”

      “I went in as a kid,” he said. Then he picked up his burger to avoid explaining any more to this completely pleasant bartender.

      “Well, if you like the outdoors, you’ll enjoy your stay.”

      A woman sat down at the bar, leaving just a stool to separate them. “Can I get a chicken Caesar?” she asked Sid before Sid even had a chance to greet her.

      “You bet. Anything to drink?”

      “Water,” she said. And then she was texting on her phone.

      He didn’t turn on his stool to look at her, but as he ate his hamburger he caught sight of her in the mirror behind the bar. She was very beautiful, her mahogany hair falling forward as she concentrated on her phone. He bit and chewed, and as his eyes moved just slightly left, he caught sight of Sid, but she shifted her gaze quickly. It made him smile. She was watching him and everyone else. She might have wanted to see how he reacted to the woman beside him.

      He looked at Sid. She was in her thirties, he guessed. Her long hair was blond. Or reddish blond. She had that freckly pale skin of an Irish lass. She was quick, physically and verbally. And she didn’t flirt, but she was friendly. Or maybe neighborly was a better word. She treated him like she treated everyone else in the bar.

      He was almost finished with his burger by the time Sid placed the salad in front of the woman at the bar. She shook out her napkin, placed it on her lap and picked up her fork. Then she looked at him and smiled. “Hi,” she said. “I’m sorry, I should have been more polite and said hello when I first sat down.”

      “Think nothing of it,” he said, picking up a couple of fries. “You were busy. Texting, I assume. Our world’s great new communication tool.”

      She laughed lightly. “Actually, checking social media. It’s a convenient way to stay up-to-date on friends and events, et cetera.”

      He just nodded and chewed. He’d been able to avoid indulging in the big social media machine. He was guilty of communicating by texts and emails, however.

      “I don’t believe I’ve seen you around here before,” she said. “I’m Neely.”

      “Dakota,” he said, giving her a smile.

      “Passing through?” she asked.

      He tilted his head and gave that now-automatic shrug. “Visiting,” he said. “I have a brother not far from here. You?”

      “Me? I’m a new resident. I have a couple of business interests in town but I actually live in Aurora, not too far from here.”

      “Is Aurora a nice place to live?” he asked, shifting the discussion from him.

      “It is,” she said, dabbing her lips with her napkin, leaving red lipstick stains on the white cloth. He glanced at Sid and caught her again, watching. “I couldn’t find anything around here I liked but there’s more to choose from in Aurora. And there’s more to do, more restaurants, more shopping, a little more culturally upmarket, more of everything. But then, Timberlake is more of a sportsmen and ranchers and tourists kind of place. Of course, the population is much larger in Aurora. So,” she said, spearing some salad. “Married?”

      He chuckled. That was direct. “No,” he said. And he didn’t volley the question back to her.

      “And how do you make a living, Mr....?”

      “Dakota is fine. I’m just out of the Army. I have an interview with the county. I’m thinking of maybe picking up trash. I hear the benefits are excellent.”

      There was a sound from down the bar but Neely didn’t appear to have heard it. Dakota knew where that had come from. Sid was amused. He was sure she’d snickered.

      “Sounds like dirty work,” Neely said.

      “I hear they give you gloves,” he said. Then he asked himself why he was doing this. She was bold. Bolder even than Alyssa. He must be giving off some kind of scent—available man who is in dire need. “The pay is good,” he added. “And that’s why we have showers.”

      “And I’m sure it’s temporary,” she said.

      “And how do you make a living?” he asked, and immediately regretted it.

      “I’m into a lot of different things. I’ve been lucky. I’m invested in a few businesses and properties. And that, my friend, turns out to be a full-time job.”

      “I’m sure,” he said.

      “Isn’t this the best little bar?” she asked, to which he agreed. And she commented on this being the best time of year. She asked him if he liked to hunt or fish and he said he hoped to do some of that. She told him, between bites of her salad, that she was reading the most wonderful book about fly-fishing in Montana and she couldn’t believe how much it made her want to try it. He answered her superficial questions without giving away too much personal information. He did not offer to teach her fly-fishing. He didn’t elaborate on his connections here. Until he knew what was going on all around him, he didn’t throw out information.

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