“Ah. An important detail.”
She grinned. “To celebrate buying my new Jeep, there’s something else I want to do before we go home.”
“What?”
“Don’t you trust me?” she asked, her smile innocent.
She was setting me up for something, I just knew it, but I couldn’t figure out what. “Okay, sure.”
She jerked her head toward the parking lot. “Great. Let’s go.”
I was completely turned around, and I was pretty sure she was sending me away from Katy when we pulled out of the parking lot and she sent me away from the interstate. I smiled. The last time we’d gone for a long ride together, the night had ended on a high note, so I didn’t mind. I reached behind me with my left hand and caressed her thigh, but almost before I could get my hand back on the handlebar, she tapped me on the shoulder and pointed.
I slowed before pulling into Wicked Horse Saloon. I looped though the semi-full parking lot before backing my Harley into a spot near the door among the pickups and SUVs. The moment I switched the bike off, I could hear thumping, up-beat country music emanating from the building. When I pulled my helmet off and removed my ear plugs, the music became louder.
“Come here often?” I asked.
“When I’m looking to have a bit of fun, or to blow off some steam, yeah. They have a live band on Friday and Saturday that’s pretty good,” she said as she plopped her helmet on a mirror.
I stuck out my elbow, and she after she slid her arm through the opening, I led her inside. Wicked Horse Saloon seemed to be a friendly, upscale place, full of smiling couples, cowboy hats, music, and dancing. Willow and I weren’t fully cowboyed up, but with us wearing jeans and boots, we didn’t completely stick out. She pulled me to a table near the large dance floor.
“You trust me?” she said when our waitress arrived to take our order.
I chuckled that she was calling back what she said at Goode Company, and that had turned out okay. “Sure.”
“Two draft Karbach Hopadillo’s.”
I watched her as she sat cross from me, bebopping and swaying to Luke Comb’s Hurricane. Our beers arrived and I took a sip. The Hopadillo had a touch of melon with a roasted caramel malt profile that finished with lingering lemon rind. I smacked my lips as I looked at it through the thick glass mug before taking a deeper drink.
“What do you think?” she asked, clearly watching my reaction.
“Pretty good.”
She beamed. “I like it. Pair it with one of their hamburgers here, and oh my God.”
“Maybe we should have come here for dinner then.”
“Maybe we should come back on Friday and listen to the band.”
“Maybe,” I agreed.
“Line Dance!” the DJ called after we’d consumed about half our beers.
“Come on! Let’s dance,” she said, putting her beer down and pulling me to my feet. She led me onto the dance floor before I formed up with her. “You know how to dance?”
“Fine time to ask me that now!” I cried, putting as much drama into my voice as possible, causing her grin.
When Vice Gill’s What the Cowgirls Do began, I knew what dance was expected and started rocking my right foot on my heel in time with the rest of the people on the floor. We went through the dance, all of us moving in time with the song. When the song ended, she turned to face me, a broad smile on her face.
“There seems to be no end to your surprises.”
“Oh yeah? Watch this,” I said as I took her left hand in my right and wrapped my arm around her waist to pull her close. When Alabama’s Dixieland Delight started, I bounced on my toes for a two count, then we were off as I guided her around the floor. Most of the dancers had returned to their tables after the line dance was over, but there were still a few couples on the floor. She had no problem keeping pace, and we had plenty of room, so I spun her out to see how she’d react.
“You’ve done this before!” she said when I pulled her back in.
“You said you wanted some exercise to work off dinner,” I said as we bounced and moved around the floor.
“Where’d you learn to dance?”
“Britt. She loved to dance.”
“She taught you well!” she said, her voice rising in volume and pitch on the last word as I dipped her. She straightened, giggling with the surprise ending. “What else can you do?”
When the next song started, I switched over to a promenade dance, several others forming up on us as more couples joined us on the floor. Three songs later, she was beginning to glow with sweat as we hoe-downed in a Texas Two Step. Never had I danced with a sexier woman.
“I need a break!” she gasped as the song ended.
I led her back to the table and our beers. I didn’t try to hide my grin, both from the fun of dancing with her, and because I saw a guy get an elbow in the ribs for staring at Willow. He wasn’t the only one watching her. I’d noticed several guys checking her out as we danced.
We settled at our table and we took a healthy pull for our too warm and flat beer. “Okay. You’ve obviously had some training. Who really taught you to dance?” she asked.
“I told you… Brittney.”
“And what did Brittney do?”
“Worked as a teller in a bank.”
She held my gaze. “That’s it? She was a bank teller?”
I worked hard not to smile. “She had a side gig where she taught dance in Eagle Pass.”
She burst into a smile. “Ah, so you told the truth, just not the whole truth.” She took a swallow of beer then put the mug down and stuck out her tongue. “Do you miss her?”
I shrugged. “I did at first, but not anymore. She was fun but I knew it wouldn’t work out.”
“Why’s that?”
“She couldn’t wait to get out of Rio Lago and move to a big city somewhere. She wanted to get into theater, modeling, or the movies, and be part of the glamour scene.” I paused and took a sip of my stale beer. I put it down and pushed it to the center of the table. No more of that. “I can’t express how little interest I have in that.”
“You said you’re not from Rio Lago?”
“Laredo, remember? My folks still live there.”
She snapped her fingers. “That’s right, I remember now. I grew up in Houston. I sometimes wonder what it’d be like to not have people on top of me all the time.” She grinned at me. “Present company excluded, of course.”
I chuckled. “Of course.”
“Did Brittney teach you to cook, too?”
“No. My mom got me started and the rest I figured out on my own. Why all the questions?”
“I’m trying to figure you out. I was going to take you out on the dance floor and teach you dance, but you’re a better dancer than I am. A better cook, too. You’re not an asshole but you don’t let people push you around. Just when I think I’m about to figure you out, you pull another rabbit out of the hat. I’m wondering what’s next.”
“Nothing special about me.”
“See? That’s what I’m talking about. Every woman in the place is checking you out, especially since we started dancing. You’re so damn fine you could probably pull any woman in the place, but you’re not full of yourself. You can obviously take care of yourself, but you don’t feel like you have to prove it all the time. You’re not like anyone else I’ve ever met.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Babe, that’s a very good thing,” she purred. She looked at her beer a moment and then stood. “Come on. Take me out there and really show me what you can do,” she said as she held her hand out.