Chapter 3 #2
Dallas’s gaze drifted away, his hesitant shrug a thousand kinds of endearing. “They work.”
“Sure, when you were sixteen and trying to write obits that wouldn’t get you fired,” Halpern scoffed, then turned to Gabi.
“Apologies, Ms. Wilder, but I’ve been trying to convince my famed former student to pen a story close to his heart.
Figured if I caught him off-guard in a location with few exits, he’d say yes. ”
With a resigned exhale, Dallas thumbed through the cards on the tabletop jukebox, surprising her when he stopped at Duran Duran. “Thanks, but like I told you, I’m not looking for an assignment.”
“Didn’t imagine you were, but for old friends, mentors even, I figured you’d make an exception.
” Halpern rolled his newspaper into a loose cylinder and rapped it once on his thigh.
“Bonus: no malaria pills required, and I can guarantee you won’t end up in traction.
Just a straightforward human-interest piece on the mill’s restoration, your family connections giving you the inside track.
Now, don’t look at me like that. You’re wasting my time pretending you’re not itching to report during your vacation. ”
Hiding amusement that likely wouldn’t be appreciated, Gabi watched Dallas’s expression close off, his boot tapping out a jazz sequence on the faded linoleum. Whatever he was feeling, an itch to write about his family’s business wasn’t it.
But Halpern kept rolling, energized by the scent of a maybe-yes. “Still carrying a field microphone? What about a recorder? Tell me you brought home some of that pricey Reuters equipment.”
Dallas sent the jukebox cards snapping past. “Some of it.”
Halpern’s watery gaze dropped to the open notebook on the table. “If you’re scribbling, you’re halfway in.”
“Chief—”
“Lloyd,” he corrected, rocking back on his heels as he hooked a thumb beneath his jacket and snapped his navy suspender. “A man with a Wall Street Journal byline doesn’t need to call me ‘Chief.’”
With a weary breath, Dallas adjusted his glasses, the closest Gabi had ever seen a man come to crying.
Unrepentant, Halpern went in for the kill. “You remember your first job at the Dispatch, right?”
“I remember,” Dallas said, sounding defeated.
“Running leads, typesetting the classifieds alone because nobody else showed up. Paste-up and layout, all glue and willpower. Boy, those were the days, not a computer in sight. I watched out for you, didn’t I?
” He tapped the newspaper against Dallas’s shoulder, more punctuation than reprimand.
“Do this story, and I might see fit to let Campbell’s kid brother, Kit, come on as a runner.
He’s been nosing around since I showed him some of your old editorials at career day. Good kid. Reminds me of you.”
Dallas mumbled something under his breath and gave the jukebox cards another spin.
“I was thinking of ordering that dial-up internet whatsit, after the last intern said journalism was doomed without it. I’ll make the call if you decide to help out.”
“Quit courting me. I’ll do it,” Dallas said, his tone suggesting he’d been cornered.
Halpern snapped his suspender in triumph.
“That’s the spirit! Make it a thousand words, due Thursday at noon.
Focus on the restoration, how it fits into Promise’s overall revitalization—the usual bunkum.
Get a couple of quotes from the businesses going in.
Customers lining up to shop at a hundred-year-old mill ’cause it seems trendy—that wouldn’t be a bad premise.
If this goes well, it could turn into a short series about the town’s growth.
There’s a lot of renovation going on among the cottages in Harrow Creek, for instance.
Your brother’s neighborhood, isn’t it? His girl Lainey inherited the house from her father, I think.
Anyway, we’ll talk.” He turned to Gabi, sweeping her back into his trajectory.
“One of those quotes could be from you, Ms. Wilder. That fancy new coffee shop of yours.”
“Uh, well—” Gabi started, but Dallas stepped in to rescue her.
“I can handle the specs, Chief.”
The editor grinned, his shrewd gaze darting between the two of them. “Sure, Hotshot, of that I have zero doubt.”
Then he was gone, whistling a jaunty tune as he waltzed out of the diner, leaving Gabi feeling like she’d survived a tender hurricane.
“What did I just agree to?” Dallas whispered, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. “Did you hear him mention the word series? I’ll be doing five features before he’s done with me.”
Gabi smothered a laugh, but not well.
“Yeah, go on, laugh,” he muttered, shooting her an aggrieved look as his glasses slid into place. “You don’t know how cruel Halpern can be when he’s bending someone to his will. If I didn’t owe him my career, I would’ve said no. Town revitalization series, my ass.”
She lifted a shoulder, bumping the coffeepot against her hip. “What if you enjoy it? A smaller story than the ones you’re used to, one that’s personal, sounds like it could be fun.”
Dallas paused, those gorgeous green eyes of his widening behind the lenses.
Not defensive. Not annoyed, the way Theo would have been at unsolicited advice.
Just genuinely puzzled. His brows pulled together, lips parting, as if the possibility that he might enjoy writing for his hometown newspaper again had never once occurred to him.
The lengthening silence gave her ample time to notice that his upper lip was fuller than the lower, with a pinprick-pale scar just above its curve. A fresh curl of heat unfurled inside her as she imagined what she’d like to do to his mouth.
What she’d like to do to him.
“I…” He blinked once, deliberately, something clicking into place. “Huh.”
For a man who’d reported from conflict zones, who’d seen more of the world than she ever would, he was endearingly clueless about himself.
“Why the name?” Gabi asked before she could stop herself, the question lingering since that charged moment at the festival. Maybe even since that long-ago kiss. “Your mom a fan of The Outsiders or something? I never asked.”
His gaze met hers, two parts shrewd, one part sheepish. Lifting a pen from the table, he turned it slowly between his fingers. “Did we talk back then? If we did, I must’ve missed it.”
And then it struck her, right between the ribs: they were going to pretend he hadn’t called her Sparkle. Pretend she’d never leaned in and kissed him one enchanting summer night.
Delight gripped Gabi, unmistakable and rusty from disuse.
So that’s how Dallas True wanted to play this.
A dare for a woman who hadn’t been dared in years.