scoot a
boot.
“ Well,” he continued,
“they’re havin’ some live music at a place in town tonight. Since
there’s not much for us to do out here except get into a whole
bunch a trouble, I thought you might like to go into
town.”
He wasn’t suggesting we go back to the
city. He was referring to the town that was about forty-five
minutes away. It sounded like a good idea—and I welcomed any idea
that was conducive to helping me stick to the rules. I was going to
need all the help I could get!
“ Sure, that sounds like fun.
I can’t think of a thing I would rather do—of course, with the
exception of maybe getting into a whole bunch of trouble with you!”
I whipped back at him as we got up to grab our coats before heading
for town.
This time, it was I who gave him a
hearty swat on his backside—and all he could do was
grin.
Chapter 13
Sawdust and Silk
The local dancehall was a rustic
hole-in-the wall kind of place, but the band was unbelievably good.
They covered major artists’ songs that were perfect for dancing.
You could tell most of the couples dancing had been together for a
while by their familiarity with each other’s steps and turns as
they left sliding trails of sawdust on the wooden dance
floor.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” he
asked.
“Actually, I would like a mug of Coors
Light if they have it on tap. If not, I’ll take a bottle,” I
replied.
“That’s my girl,” he said with
wink.
He returned to the table carrying two
frosty mugs of cold beer.
The band started playing a
Trace Adkins song called ‘ There’s a Girl in
Texas’ .
He grabbed me by the hand and said,
“Let’s go shake a tail feather.”
We made our way out onto the dance
floor. He placed his right hand in the small of my back as I placed
my left hand on the back of his shoulder.
One, two—one. One, two—one. One,
two—one. Our steps and rhythm were in perfect sync. He was a great
lead and easy to follow.
We danced until we had both broken a
sweat—and until it was time for the band to take a break. We
returned to our barstools and finished off another cold
beer.
“ You ‘bout ready to blow
this joint?” he asked.
I agreed it was time to make our
departure. The beer was starting to hit me. I didn’t want to put
myself in the compromising position of having to refuse another
mug. Tonight was going to require every ounce of resolve I could
muster to find the strength to refuse him.
As I had become accustomed, he opened
my door then went around and jumped in his side of the cab. He
turned the ignition key and when the dashboard lights came on,
there it was again: the clock was flashing 11:11. The coincidence
did not go unnoticed by him.
With a chuckle he stated, “Have you
ever repeatedly noticed a certain number on the clock? It seems
like I never miss seeing the time 11:11, especially within the past
couple of weeks.”
A strange coincidence, indeed! He
almost had me believing in the possibility that fate had brought us
together.
The beer had obviously had a slight
effect on him, as well. He seemed to have his guard down a bit. I
could barely detect any trace of shyness or distance in
him.
“ There’s something I think
we should do. Something I haven’t done in a really long time,” he
said with a twinkle in his eye.
“ And just what would that
be, Mister?”
“ I wanna go parkin’!” he
blurted out excitedly.
All I could do was laugh. We were on
the ranch road and he was keeping a lookout for the closest
turn-row—again. As soon as he spotted one in the head-lights, he
made a quick turn. We barreled up the dirt road.
All of a sudden, something ahead caused
him to slam on his brakes as the truck fish-tailed to the side and
came to a sliding stop. Directly in front of us in the turn-row,
someone had dumped an old chair, end table and mattress.
Both of us burst into laughter as he
questioned, “Do you think that’s a sign?”
He turned the truck around and headed
back down
boot.
“ Well,” he continued,
“they’re havin’ some live music at a place in town tonight. Since
there’s not much for us to do out here except get into a whole
bunch a trouble, I thought you might like to go into
town.”
He wasn’t suggesting we go back to the
city. He was referring to the town that was about forty-five
minutes away. It sounded like a good idea—and I welcomed any idea
that was conducive to helping me stick to the rules. I was going to
need all the help I could get!
“ Sure, that sounds like fun.
I can’t think of a thing I would rather do—of course, with the
exception of maybe getting into a whole bunch of trouble with you!”
I whipped back at him as we got up to grab our coats before heading
for town.
This time, it was I who gave him a
hearty swat on his backside—and all he could do was
grin.
Chapter 13
Sawdust and Silk
The local dancehall was a rustic
hole-in-the wall kind of place, but the band was unbelievably good.
They covered major artists’ songs that were perfect for dancing.
You could tell most of the couples dancing had been together for a
while by their familiarity with each other’s steps and turns as
they left sliding trails of sawdust on the wooden dance
floor.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” he
asked.
“Actually, I would like a mug of Coors
Light if they have it on tap. If not, I’ll take a bottle,” I
replied.
“That’s my girl,” he said with
wink.
He returned to the table carrying two
frosty mugs of cold beer.
The band started playing a
Trace Adkins song called ‘ There’s a Girl in
Texas’ .
He grabbed me by the hand and said,
“Let’s go shake a tail feather.”
We made our way out onto the dance
floor. He placed his right hand in the small of my back as I placed
my left hand on the back of his shoulder.
One, two—one. One, two—one. One,
two—one. Our steps and rhythm were in perfect sync. He was a great
lead and easy to follow.
We danced until we had both broken a
sweat—and until it was time for the band to take a break. We
returned to our barstools and finished off another cold
beer.
“ You ‘bout ready to blow
this joint?” he asked.
I agreed it was time to make our
departure. The beer was starting to hit me. I didn’t want to put
myself in the compromising position of having to refuse another
mug. Tonight was going to require every ounce of resolve I could
muster to find the strength to refuse him.
As I had become accustomed, he opened
my door then went around and jumped in his side of the cab. He
turned the ignition key and when the dashboard lights came on,
there it was again: the clock was flashing 11:11. The coincidence
did not go unnoticed by him.
With a chuckle he stated, “Have you
ever repeatedly noticed a certain number on the clock? It seems
like I never miss seeing the time 11:11, especially within the past
couple of weeks.”
A strange coincidence, indeed! He
almost had me believing in the possibility that fate had brought us
together.
The beer had obviously had a slight
effect on him, as well. He seemed to have his guard down a bit. I
could barely detect any trace of shyness or distance in
him.
“ There’s something I think
we should do. Something I haven’t done in a really long time,” he
said with a twinkle in his eye.
“ And just what would that
be, Mister?”
“ I wanna go parkin’!” he
blurted out excitedly.
All I could do was laugh. We were on
the ranch road and he was keeping a lookout for the closest
turn-row—again. As soon as he spotted one in the head-lights, he
made a quick turn. We barreled up the dirt road.
All of a sudden, something ahead caused
him to slam on his brakes as the truck fish-tailed to the side and
came to a sliding stop. Directly in front of us in the turn-row,
someone had dumped an old chair, end table and mattress.
Both of us burst into laughter as he
questioned, “Do you think that’s a sign?”
He turned the truck around and headed
back down
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