“Hey. So was Bennie suspicious? He looked like he thought something was going on with us,” Maggie says, her tone uneven from nerves.
“Nah. Bennie didn’t suspect anything,” I sigh.
“Then why do you sound so down?”
“He just made me feel like shit about not re-hiring him and then he brought up Hank,” I tell Maggie.
“Well, he’s not the one making you feel like shit there,” Maggie replies swiftly. “You tense up every time his name comes up, and you get this guilty look on your face.”
“That’s because I do feel guilty,” I tell her as the rain drops get bigger and faster. I’ll likely be drenched by the time I get home. “Now can we talk about something else? Let’s get back to that earlier conversation about tonight. Your place or mine?”
I hear her laugh and then she says, “How about you go have a conversation with Hank and then we can decide on the simple stuff, like where I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
“First of all, I can’t just walk up to him and start small talk. I’ve avoided him for months,” I admit. “And second don’t talk about fucking, you’re making me hard as I walk down the street.”
“Go to the Biscuit, ease that guilt weighing you down and then—and only then—you can come by my place and I’ll deal with your agreement violation.”
I smile at the last part, but not the first. Still, I know she’s right. Not that I’ll give her the satisfaction of hearing that though. “See you in a little bit.”
“Text me first, so I can make sure the coast is clear,” Maggie says. “And if you don’t go see Hank, then don’t come see me.”
She hangs up before I can argue.
“Bossiest woman on the planet,” I mutter and shove my phone back in my pocket. And once again, she’s right. I need to face Hank and deal with any resentment he rightfully has toward me. So I find myself turning left instead of right and the next thing I know, I’m opening the door to the Biscuit and dripping all over their floor. It’s too early for the dinner rush and too late for the lunch crowd, so they close weekdays between three and six. Still the one waitress inside greets me with a smile.
“Hi there. We don’t open for dinner until six but I can make you a reservation for then.”
“I’m actually here to see…” Hank’s big frame lumbers into view. He’s carrying a tray of glasses toward the bar. “Him.”
Hank locks eyes with me and freezes. He doesn’t look happy but he doesn’t look pissed either. His face is Switzerland. “I got this, Carly.”
The waitress nods and disappears somewhere in the back of the restaurant with a tray of empty salt shakers. Hank gently puts the tray of glasses down onto the bar top and then leans on the polished oak beside it. “I put on a pot of coffee if you want some. And I got my usual afternoon snack of a couple of oat muffins in the back.”
“Stop,” I say with a small shake of my head. “Stop being so nice to me.”
Hank blinks and then chuffs out a silent laugh. “I don’t hate you for letting me go, Tate. You had to do it. I just think less of you for then cutting me off like I was just some nameless employee. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget my manners. Then I’ve let you alter my morals and ethics and I lose.”
“You were always too damn philosophical for a high school dropout,” I say with a small smile so he knows I’m just kidding. “And also extremely on the nose.”
Hank grins. “Sit down, asshole. You still take cream but no sugar because it’s hockey season.”
“Yeah, exactly.” I sit down on one of the red leather stools. He goes about making me a coffee and slides the mug across the polished bar top when it’s ready. I give him a grateful smile. “So…you like it here?”
“It’s decent,” Hank says as he starts to make a coffee for himself. “You know me though, I need to work outdoors, so while this pays the bills, I’m looking for something else.”
“You know if we can ever hire staff again, full-time or even part-time, I am calling you,” I say before taking a sip of coffee.
“Actually no, I didn’t know that because you haven’t told me,” Hank says as he stirs a heaping amount of sugar into his coffee, and I watch with jealousy. Then he heads toward the swinging door into the kitchen. “You haven’t said jack shit to me since you had George let me go.”
He comes back a minute later with a bag from the bakery, which he puts on the counter and tears open with his weathered hands. Two perfect muffins lay exposed on the counter and he grabs one and motions for me to take the other. “Go ahead. I didn’t have time to poison it or anything.”
I huff out a small, weak laugh at that, and I guiltily take the muffin. I shouldn’t because I’ve been an ass to him and don’t deserve any charity from him, but I’m starving. I take a huge bite. “There’s got to be other farm work around.”
Hank finishes chewing his own bite and nods. “There is. But I’ve been thinking of maybe a fresh start somewhere new. There’s nothing really tying me to Burlington anymore. Maybe I head out to like Georgia or North Carolina. Or Wisconsin or… I don’t know.”
The idea that he’s been thinking about leaving makes me irrationally upset considering I’ve been ignoring him. “You’ve got friends here. And that lifelong crush on Daisy Todd will be hard to maintain from across the country.”
Hank laughs and scratches his shaggy dirty-blond beard. “You hate that I have a thing for her.”
