“That song.”
He hadn’t paid attention, too obsessed with Savannah to actually think much. “Someday,” he said, recognizing it. “Nickelback. We used to listen to them a lot.”
“You didn’t ask the band to play that, did you?” she asked suspiciously.
“No, but I might have if I’d thought of it.” He grinned. “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?” Memories of making out in his car, listening to that song and many others.
She flushed, but raised her chin pugnaciously and said, “You wish.”
Harlan laughed. “Liar, liar.”
Oh, yeah. She remembered all right. And so, by God, did he.
Half an hour later, Savannah was manning the coatroom. She didn’t mind. Much. There was a chair, so at least she didn’t have to stand in her heels forever. And it gave her a chance to think. A chance to decide exactly what she was going to do about Harlan Sullivan. And her job.
Because she totally needed to think about the job and not, damn it, remember the past.
She could find another job. Whiskey River was growing and she knew of several businesses that might hire her. Some had actively tried to hire her away from Bill. If worse came to worst, there was always her father’s bank. Savannah shuddered at the thought. She loved her father but work for him? Not in a million years.
She liked her job at Whiskey River Construction. She enjoyed the business and the variety of her duties. Bill gave her a lot of responsibility and depended on her to function practically as another arm of his. While she wasn’t in any way, shape or form a contractor, she knew a lot about the business after working for Bill for so long. Savannah could also take over on site—and had—when Bill had been unable to be there.
Whether working for Harlan would be any different from working for Bill Griffith, she didn’t know. But she should give it a chance, shouldn’t she? What harm could there be? Surely she was too smart to fall for him again. What had happened between them had taken place years before. Besides, for all she knew he was involved with someone. Single didn’t necessarily mean uninvolved, and she sure as hell wasn’t interested in a man who was taken.
If he’s tangled up with someone then why is he flirting with me?she asked herself.Because he’s a scumbag?She really hoped he wasn’t.
“Savannah, what are you doing here?”
She looked up to see Harlan standing in front of the Dutch door. She walked over to him and put her hands on the top of the half-door that separated them. “Taking care of the coatroom.”
“Checking coats is one of your duties?”
“Not normally. But the woman in charge got sick. As in throwing up. And there’s no one else to do it. At the moment, anyway.” Hopefully, someone else would arrive to take her place before long. “I assume you’re leaving and want your coat.”
“Yes, thank you.”
She squashed the twinge of disappointment. “You’re not staying for the silent auction?”
“No, I donated one of the prizes but I didn’t bid on anything.”
“Oh? Which one is yours?”
“The ski trip to Vail, Colorado.”
“Nice.” And expensive. Another sign that he’d done well. “Do you have your ticket?”
Harlan reached into his pants pocket. Frowning, he checked his other one. Then the pocket of his tux coat. Before long he’d been through every pocket. “Damn it, I know I had it. I don’t know what happened to it.” He glanced at her. “It’s not that funny.”
“I wasn’t laughing. Although, it is funny.”
“If you weren’t laughing then who—” He broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll come back there and look for it.”
Opening the half-door to the outer area, she let him in, closed it behind him, then opened the door to the main coatroom. “Couples and groups are together and they’re more or less in the order people came in.”
“I came alone about forty-five minutes after it started.”
“I don’t suppose your coat has any distinguishing characteristics?”
Harlan shrugged. “It’s a man’s overcoat. Brown.”
