“Just your hair.” Roy tosses a meatless bone onto his plate and then pauses mid reach for another one. For as long as I’ve known Agnes, her dark hair has been cropped short and always uneven, as if she cuts it herself. “It suits you better,” he offers after a moment.
I hide my smile behind a sip of my beer. Was it the wings or the bartender that drew the old grouch to the Ale House tonight?
“Was that a new fella I saw you with over there, Marie?” she asks.
“Yeah. We’ve been on a few dates.”
“You think it might be serious?” Her dark eyes flicker from the pour to my face. I don’t miss the hopefulness in that look. She was never blind to my feelings for Jonah.
“Not while she’s in love with that other one over there.” Roy waves his wing in Tyler’s direction.
My mouth gapes. “I’m not in—”
“Who?” Agnes follows his direction, leaning over the bar and searching the faces.
“Black and tan flannel. Tyler somethin’。”
“The musher who just hired Mabel at his kennel?”
“You should have seen those two at her vet place last week.” Roy takes another bite.
“Oh, that one,” she whispers conspiratorially, as if the two of them have been gossiping, before seeking Tyler out again.
My stomach drops. He’s watching us with a curious frown. “Would you two stop it?” I hiss.
“What?” Roy scowls. “All you young folk think I don’t know what’s what around here.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Tyler climbing out of his chair. He’s on his way over.
Excitement and panic compete for my attention.
“Hey.” The word drifts out on Tyler’s sigh. “Didn’t think you were coming.”
“Yeah, neither did I.” And that line is getting stale.
His focus flitters from me to the pint—he frowns—to Roy and his half-eaten plate of wings, then to Agnes behind the bar, as if he’s trying to figure out how we all fit, and more importantly, why we were talking about him just now.
“Tyler, you met Roy.” Kind of. I gesture across the bar. “This is Mabel’s mom, Agnes.”
Agnes smiles wide. “My daughter’s excited for her new job. She’s always loved dogs.”
“That’s great. We’re looking forward to having her there.” He bites his bottom lip in thought and then his expression turns somber. “Marie, can I talk to you for a minute? Outside?”
I guess we’re going to do this now.
I check the back corner where Steve is occupied with his friends. “Yeah, sure.” I reach around Roy to collect my coat again, the cold still clinging to the material.
“It’s because she knows when to not give up,” Roy murmurs quietly.
I frown. “What?”
“Calla. She always gets what she wants because she knows when to not give up.” Roy peers over his shoulder, his shrewd eyes meeting mine. “Maybe you should take a page out of her book this time.”
His words trigger my memory of our conversation back in the summer when Roy was cursing crooked cabinets, and I was envious of Calla’s full and perfect life.
I guess he’s not wrong. She didn’t give up on Jonah or on Alaska. She certainly didn’t give up on this prickly man, when I hazard most others have, and now I don’t think there’s a single thing he wouldn’t do for her if she asked. And even if she didn’t.
With an appreciative smile, I pull on my jacket.
Steve notices me heading out and flashes a questioning look.
I hold up my hand, palm out, and mouth, Five minutes, and then dismiss him from my thoughts as I walk out the door. A few people linger around the firepit, including Jonah. He pauses in his conversation, lifting his chin as if to ask what’s going on.
I shrug and trail Tyler who leads me across the lot toward the shadows of a snow-laden spruce. The cold air is a welcome relief.
“Hatchett asked you to come back, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. I told him I’d think about it.” The last thing I want to talk about is Harry Hatchett. “Tyler, I—”
“Is it serious?” He faces me. “This guy. Is it serious between you and him?”
I falter at his pained stare and the stress in his tone. “We’ve been on a few dates. He’s nice. I like him.”
“But you don’t want to be with him.”
“I don’t?”
“You stiffened when he put his hand on your back.”