Stranger in Town

CHAPTER 14





I wanted to believe there was a special place in hell for men like Terrence. It baffled me how any woman with a child allowed herself to be with a man like him. Kris’s self-worth must have plummeted to an all-time low the moment she considered him a decent catch. It saddened and sickened me at the same time, because she knew Terrence never cared about Olivia. Even a woman blinded by love couldn’t have missed it. Terrence was a straight-shooter. Kris was desperate. And little Olivia suffered for it. I imagined she spent many nights alone in her room, desperate for attention.

Against my better judgment, I let Maddie choose the restaurant when we reached Jackson Hole, Wyoming. It was late, and I was tired and in desperate need of sleep, but since Maddie was all hopped up on Red Bull, a quiet evening wasn’t likely.

After passing two bar and grills and using my behind-the-wheel power of veto, I finally caved when we passed the third dining establishment. My stomach was uneasy, and in need of some form of nourishment. I hoped the place offered some decent sustenance, or we’d be back in the car trying again.

When we walked in and I looked around, I wondered why they hadn’t just called the place a bar; I didn’t see any evidence of a grill anywhere. There were no double doors suggesting a cooking area in the back, and the closest thing to food on a table was a plastic basket of fries accompanied by a green-colored dipping sauce. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but it was too late—Maddie was already on the dance floor whooping it up with a swarm of men who approved of her trashy Wyoming style.

I took a seat at the corner of the bar, trying to fade into the shadows around me. It worked for a few minutes.

A frizzy-haired brunette approached me from behind the bar. “What’ll you have to drink?”

“Do you have a menu?”

“I mean to drink, hun?”

“Water.”

She snickered, reached under the bar, and slid a laminated, one-sided menu in my direction. I scanned the front side for a viable option, but it didn’t matter what I chose. All the items on the menu were dipped in grease and served with a heaping side of grease. Double greasy. I could hardly wait.

Maddie plopped down on the seat next to me, pulled an elastic band off her wrist, and wrapped it around her hair. “C’mon, don’t just sit there. Wake up! Let’s dance.”

“Not tonight,” I said. “I’m too tired.”

I expected a witty comeback, but she said nothing, and when I followed her line of sight, I knew why. A tall, well-built man had entered the bar and sat down on the opposite end. He looked like he’d just stepped off Brad Paisley’s tour bus in his fringed button-up shirt, tight Wranglers, black boots and matching cowboy hat. But it was his shiny, oversized steer belt buckle that held my attention the most. The horns stuck out so far they could have caused a passerby permanent damage.

Maddie had her eye on a new dance partner.

“Do you mind?” she said.

I smiled.

“Go.”

She patted me on the leg. “Be right back.”

She hopped off the stool, pulled the rubber band back out, and fluffed her hair with her fingers. She reached Brad Paisley Guy, and a conversation ensued. Strange, but he wasn’t looking at her while he was talking—he was staring at me—or at least trying to over the dim-lit lights in the room. Maddie said something, and when he replied, she spun around on her heel and huffed all the way back over to me.

“What did he say?” I said.

“Maybe later.”

“Why can’t you tell me now?” I said.

“He actually said ‘maybe later.’”

“At least it wasn’t a no, right?”

But we both knew it was. And Maddie wasn’t used to rejection. In an act of defiance, and to increase her no-guy-can-resist-me points, Maddie turned to the man sitting to her left and smiled. He wasted no time buying her a drink.

Brad Paisley Guy approached the DJ, striking up a conversation. They talked for a minute, and then the DJ nodded. The next song started. It was some flip-your-partner-dosey-do kind of thing. I’d never understood the fascination with country dancing and all its flinging and twirling. Maybe it was because I’d never tried it before—I’d never been interested.

“Was you planning on dancing tonight?” a husky voice said.

I turned around, coming face to face with Brad Paisley Guy. “You mean were you?”

He held his hand up to his ear like he couldn’t hear me. “Sorry, what? It’s a little loud in here.”

“You just said ‘was’ instead of ‘were.’” I suddenly felt stupid for pointing it out like I was the bar’s grammar police. It didn’t matter, I wouldn’t ever see him again.

Brad Paisley Guy rolled the toothpick dangling from his lips from one corner of his mouth to the other and squinted. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Maybe I am—how would you know?”

He took his time looking me up and down like he wanted me to know it. “Nope, you’re definitely not a country girl.”

His tone didn’t seem offensive, but it bothered me anyway.

“Did you want something?” I said

“I’m Cade,” he said, tipping his hat forward. “What’s your name?”

I pointed to Maddie who was engrossed in her conversation with the man who’d bought her the drink, even though I knew her gift of “ear extend” was on high alert. “That’s Maddie.”

He laughed. “I meant your name.”

“I know what you meant,” I said. “Do you have a last name?”

The side of his lip curled up into a smile and he winked. “Sure do. Do you answer everything with a question?”

Before I could say anything else, he placed his hands on my waist, lifted me out of the chair, and dragged me onto the dance floor.

“I don’t do this,” I said. “Please, don’t—”

I tried to back away, but he grabbed my hands, pulling me in until we were so close I could feel his hot, minty breath on my cheek.

“You don’t do what, dance?”

“Not country,” I said.

He laughed and released one of his hands, wrapping it around my waist. Over the next few minutes I felt like I was sitting in an oversized teacup at a theme park—the kind of ride where at least one person usually threw up before it was over. My body flipped, dipped, and whipped into positions I didn’t even know were still possible.

The song ended with me in the dipped position, my head about three inches from the floor. Cade held me there for a few moments, staring into my eyes, but saying nothing.

“Were you going to let me go at some point?” I said.

“Yeah, sorry.”

He stood me upright but didn’t let go.

“Can I have my hand back too?” I said.

He released me and walked away without saying another word.

What just happened? And why is he walking off? Is it a country/western thing? I didn’t know.

“Umm, I think he likes you,” Maddie said when I returned to my seat.

“It was one dance,” I said, holding up a finger. “Besides, I’m dating Giovanni, and I don’t even know the guy.”

Maddie nudged me with her shoulder. “He’s still looking at you.”

I didn’t dare look over. “Can we please leave now? I’ve had enough.”

She frowned but took pity on me. A minute later, we were back in the parking lot as if the last hour had never happened.

I said something to Maddie, but she didn’t hear me.

“Maddie, are you listening?” I said.

“What? Yeah.”

“No, you’re not. What are you looking at?”

She pointed to a truck parked under a lamppost. “Nice wheels,” Maddie said. “I could see myself with the guy who drives that.”

“What are you looking…”

I looked over. It couldn’t be—but it was. A truck. A shiny, black Dodge Ram with a grille in the front and Cade gripping the door handle, about to jump inside.