Page 27 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“Thank you,” he said, all mannerly and sweet.

As he buckled himself in, I raced around to the driver’s side. Buckled myself, as well, though I usually didn’t. Daybreak started like a dream, as she always did, and I circled her around on a patch of dusty grass before pointing her in the direction of town. She knew the way.

I drove along the dirt road from the ranch to Stonewall Road, which led into town. I rolled my window down right away to catch the fresh air, and after a glance in my direction, Dalton did the same. Which turned the truck’s cab into a wind tunnel, the breeze blowing bits of hay around, this way and that, along with a scrap of paper I’d neglected to pick up.

Dalton’s hair billowed around his head like a soft cloud. But he didn’t close the window as some might have. Instead, he scraped his hair back from his face and smiled at me like he was having a good time. Maybe he was.

Was it enough to make him say yes if I asked for his number and promised I’d drive to the city to see him? I could do it, though I wouldn’t want to go so far from the ranch. But sweet glory, what that singular smile did to my heart.

All too quickly we went from the bumpy gravel road to the smooth blacktop one. All too soon we were in town, on a lazy midweek morning. I drove along Old Main Street to the Mercantile and parked. Checked for my wallet and led the way up the wooden steps.

Inside, it was much as it had been the day before, with creaky floors and dusty ceiling. I went over to a rack of hats and the two shelves of hatboxes. Dalton followed, and I figured he must be enjoying the fact that it was a great deal less rambunctious with just the two of us.

Lost in the moment, I looked at the array of hats. When I noticed the style I’d worn for many years was no longer on display, my dismay was real. I wanted what I was used to so I didn’t have to think much about it.

The lady behind the counter pointed at a rack just to the left of her at the end of the counter. “Those just came in,” she said. “You might find something you like.”

Dalton was at my shoulder, almost brushing against me. I imagined he was seeking comfort from the contact, though I knew that was only a fantasy. “Those are all pretty,” he said politely. He didn’t know a durn thing about hats, of course. Did he want to? Then he added, “There’s a Stetson.”

“Way too fancy for the likes of me,” I said, speaking before thinking. Drawing unwanted attention to myself, as both the clerk and Dalton looked at me.

“You could try it on,” the clerk said.

I looked at the hat as she held it out. It was made of creamy straw and had a wider brim than I was used to. A sharper-edged look, and the narrowest hatband with small brass pieces cut into long diamonds.

“Go on,” Dalton said, looking at me with wide eyes. “This one’s on me, anyway, for having crushed your other one.”

“No,” I said. “No.”

But he reached to take the hat and rose on his toes to place it on my head. There was no fighting back, not with him that near and careful, gently adjusting the crown, the lay of the brim.

I let him. With those city-soft hands of his, I let him. When he turned me to look in the mirror on the wall behind the clerk, I let him, and shivered as he withdrew his touch.

My expression was blank, as it always was. As I’d trained it to be, to stay out of trouble. My eyes, that weird color that always drew the wrong kind of attention from all those mothers and fathers, stared back at me. I’d missed a spot while shaving. Myhair was too long behind my ears. I had a scratch on my neck from something.

I looked at Dalton to see what he would say, sweating because I was unused to being looked at the way he was looking at me. Eyes wide, mouth open like he was holding back a gasp.

“It doesn’t suit me,” I said with as much finality as I could muster, being so undone by him as he stepped closer, tipping back his head to look up at me.

“Oh, it does,” he said, heartfelt. “It suits you exactly.”

“It does suit you,” the clerk said. “Shall I ring you up? Would you like to wear it out?”

A lot of times in my life, decisions had been made for me. What to wear. What to eat. What to say. How to behave. And now it was happening again, with that most personal of items: my cowboy hat. Only this time, it was different. The way Snow Creek Ranch was different. More welcoming. More accepting. And all because Dalton had chosen for me and not anybody else.

My mind was made up. I could happily torture myself for years and years to come with the memory of the way Dalton had just looked at me in this hat.

“Yes,” I said, reaching for my wallet, but Dalton slapped his credit card on the counter before I could get that far.

“I ruined his other one,” Dalton said to the clerk, and with a nod she rang up the sale.

At the very last second, the clerk took the hat off my head to clip the tag, then handed it back to me. I wanted to give the hat to Dalton so he could put it on me again, but I didn’t. The memory I had was enough. Would have to be enough.

Chapter 11

Jake

“Dairy Queen is my treat,” I said, trying not to stammer. “It’s just down Old Main Street a ways.”