curved, but Dan wouldn’t call it a smile. It lacked any of the warmth or even sarcastic edge her smiles always had.
“Hey. How are you?”
Dan looked from Mel and then to the guy. He couldn’t get a read on the relationship here. The guy seemed both pleased and…weirded out to see her. Mel just seemed to shut down.
“I’m good,” she said, her eyes never once glancing Dan’s way, as if he weren’t even there. She looked at the guy, but if she felt anything for Tyler , she didn’t show it. “You’re back in town for a bit?” she asked, sounding as bland as Dan had ever heard her.
Tyler glanced at Dan before smiling down at Mel again. “Possibly more than a bit. Dad’s…up to something. We’ll see.” Another look back at him. Dan affected his best famous-athlete smile.
Mel’s whole blank expression tightened, but he couldn’t read whatever emotion was behind it. “Tyler, this is my consulting client, Dan Sharpe. Dan, this is Tyler Parker.”
Tyler held out his hand, something both friendly and sad in his smile. “Nice to meet you, Dan. I recognize you, right? You play for the Blackhawks.”
“I did.”
“Right.” The guy looked sheepish, making Dan want to punch him. He’d prefer the overt assholery of Al the cop to that.
“Anyway, it’s good to see you, Mel. Maybe we can catch up some time.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, sounding the opposite of absolute. “You know where to find me.”
His friendly cheer dimmed at that. “I do. I do. Well. I won’t keep you. It was nice to meet you, Dan.” His hand reached out like he was going to touch Mel, but then it fell, and Dan did not like that at all . “Take care,” he said in a quiet voice before moving away from their booth.
She nodded, the empty curved-mouth expression not leaving her face until Tyler exited the diner.
She didn’t say anything. Not one offer to explain who he was or what Dan had just witnessed. She sat there, blank expression, hands in her lap, silent.
He shouldn’t let that piss him off. After all, she’d made clear she had no intention of being friends. Still, he thought they’d been building a kind of almost-friendship. He knew some of the harder pieces of her life, and the things he’d told her about Grandpa and the ranch he’d told no one else.
So, whether she wanted to admit it or not, there was a foundation of a relationship here, and her keeping tight-lipped about the tall guy with the fucking sad smiles pissed him off.
“So, ex-boyfriend, I’m assuming.”
Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t move. Mel Shaw, Queen of the Nonresponse. He hated her a little bit for that talent, probably because he was jealous of it. Sometimes he could hide his pissed off, his hurt, but he had to mask it with other things. Jokes, teasing, being an asshole. He couldn’t just be…blank. All that emotion, reaction—always wrong place, wrong time—folding in on any noble intentions.
“You could say that,” she said, her voice quiet and distant as she looked over her shoulder at the counter. “Man, I’m starving.”
“So, you’re not going to tell me about him.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?”
She finally glanced his way, irritation flickering in her eyes. “Because it’s none of your business.”
“Why? Because you wouldn’t want him to know you threw yourself at me a few days ago?”
It wasn’t a shock something shitty would come out of his mouth. Not a shock the look of hurt on her face made him wince. No, nothing about the way he was handling this all wrong was a shock.
“No, Dan, because it’s ancient history that—and I know this will be hard for you to accept—has nothing to do with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.”
He didn’t say anything, the hard weight of guilt and self-disgust lodging itself tight in his chest.
Georgia hurried up to the booth, sliding the plates onto the table in her harried manner. For the first time since he’d
“Hey. How are you?”
Dan looked from Mel and then to the guy. He couldn’t get a read on the relationship here. The guy seemed both pleased and…weirded out to see her. Mel just seemed to shut down.
“I’m good,” she said, her eyes never once glancing Dan’s way, as if he weren’t even there. She looked at the guy, but if she felt anything for Tyler , she didn’t show it. “You’re back in town for a bit?” she asked, sounding as bland as Dan had ever heard her.
Tyler glanced at Dan before smiling down at Mel again. “Possibly more than a bit. Dad’s…up to something. We’ll see.” Another look back at him. Dan affected his best famous-athlete smile.
Mel’s whole blank expression tightened, but he couldn’t read whatever emotion was behind it. “Tyler, this is my consulting client, Dan Sharpe. Dan, this is Tyler Parker.”
Tyler held out his hand, something both friendly and sad in his smile. “Nice to meet you, Dan. I recognize you, right? You play for the Blackhawks.”
“I did.”
“Right.” The guy looked sheepish, making Dan want to punch him. He’d prefer the overt assholery of Al the cop to that.
“Anyway, it’s good to see you, Mel. Maybe we can catch up some time.”
“Absolutely,” she replied, sounding the opposite of absolute. “You know where to find me.”
His friendly cheer dimmed at that. “I do. I do. Well. I won’t keep you. It was nice to meet you, Dan.” His hand reached out like he was going to touch Mel, but then it fell, and Dan did not like that at all . “Take care,” he said in a quiet voice before moving away from their booth.
She nodded, the empty curved-mouth expression not leaving her face until Tyler exited the diner.
She didn’t say anything. Not one offer to explain who he was or what Dan had just witnessed. She sat there, blank expression, hands in her lap, silent.
He shouldn’t let that piss him off. After all, she’d made clear she had no intention of being friends. Still, he thought they’d been building a kind of almost-friendship. He knew some of the harder pieces of her life, and the things he’d told her about Grandpa and the ranch he’d told no one else.
So, whether she wanted to admit it or not, there was a foundation of a relationship here, and her keeping tight-lipped about the tall guy with the fucking sad smiles pissed him off.
“So, ex-boyfriend, I’m assuming.”
Her expression didn’t change. She didn’t move. Mel Shaw, Queen of the Nonresponse. He hated her a little bit for that talent, probably because he was jealous of it. Sometimes he could hide his pissed off, his hurt, but he had to mask it with other things. Jokes, teasing, being an asshole. He couldn’t just be…blank. All that emotion, reaction—always wrong place, wrong time—folding in on any noble intentions.
“You could say that,” she said, her voice quiet and distant as she looked over her shoulder at the counter. “Man, I’m starving.”
“So, you’re not going to tell me about him.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?”
She finally glanced his way, irritation flickering in her eyes. “Because it’s none of your business.”
“Why? Because you wouldn’t want him to know you threw yourself at me a few days ago?”
It wasn’t a shock something shitty would come out of his mouth. Not a shock the look of hurt on her face made him wince. No, nothing about the way he was handling this all wrong was a shock.
“No, Dan, because it’s ancient history that—and I know this will be hard for you to accept—has nothing to do with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom.”
He didn’t say anything, the hard weight of guilt and self-disgust lodging itself tight in his chest.
Georgia hurried up to the booth, sliding the plates onto the table in her harried manner. For the first time since he’d
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