“Give me a sec.”
Ten minutes later I re-emerged, freshened up and dressed for a morning spent down by the old fishing hole we used to frequent. Miles and Gracie squeezed in between us in the truck, with Gracie unable to stop staring at me. Beau grabbed Miles’ hand and placed it over the gear shifter, letting him think he was shifting the truck as we putted and bounced down an old dirt road behind the house.
“Uncle Beau,” Gracie called out when she grew tired of staring my way.
“Yes, Gracie Lou,” he twanged.
“What did the big bucket say to the little bucket?” she asked, stifling a premature giggle.
“I don’t know. What did he say?”
“You look a little pail,” Gracie stuck her tongue out and scrunched her face as she laughed. A mess of blonde curls framed her freckled face, making her the spitting image of her mama. Miles was a little bigger, making him appear to be the older one. He was more serious with dark eyes and dark hair. I could only imagine how hard it was for Ivy to look into the eyes of her beautiful boy and see the face of her late husband looking back at her. “Get it, Uncle Beau?”
“That’s a good one, Gracie Lou. Give me a second, and I’ll think of one for you,” he said with a chuckle before pulling down a grassy stretch of dirty road. Up ahead was the old fishing hole with the ancient oak that held an old tire swing from its mighty branches. We used to swing off that tire and catapult ourselves into the water, though we stopped the day Beau came out covered in leeches all over his legs.
Beau jerked the shifter into park just shy of the old tree and climbed out, reaching in as Miles and Gracie slid across the seat toward his waiting arms. He plunked them on the ground and grabbed some poles out of the back of his truck.
Early morning fog rose up over the water like an ashy mist, and there was a faint chirping of birds mixed with the wind gusts that rustled the budding leaves on the tree. For miles and miles it was just us four, earth, wind, water, and sky.
I climbed out from the truck, grabbing a couple old blankets and a tackle box from the back as if I’d never forgotten our old routine. Spreading the blankets out near the shoreline, I lowered myself into a seated position and watched Beau attach lures and secure bobbers to the kiddie poles. He showed them how to cast and draw the line in a few times before taking a step back. With a hand on his hip, he watched proudly before backing up to where I sat underneath the old oak.
“Not fishing today?” I asked.
“Nah,” he said. “This is for them. They’re not going to catch much here without live bait, but they seem to be having fun.”
He crouched down, taking a seat beside me on a scratchy plaid blanket. The tepid May air brushed the hair from my eyes as I tugged up thick blades of grass that poked up around the blanket and scattered them into the wind.
“This is what it’s all about, Dakota,” he said, pulling in a deep breath. He drew his long legs up, wrapping his strong arms around his knees and keeping a close eye on the kids.
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I said, staring straight ahead at the picturesque view that surrounded us.
“Family,” he said. “Family is everything.”
Chapter Sixteen
“You ready yet?” I rapped on her door, pressing my ear closer. She’d spent a solid hour getting ready to go out Monday night. As long as she was taking to clean up, I’d have figured she was making some kind of red carpet appearance.
The door burst open a second later followed by a light gust of perfume and hairspray. A vision in black, her legs were hugged by leather leggings and a sparkly black top which hung low enough to give a man a heart attack but still left enough up to the imagination. Diamond studs flashed from beneath her long, dark hair. She bent down, placing a pair of heels on the floor and then stepping into them, instantly bringing her up to my level. Well, almost.
“Ready,” she said.
One look from head to toe and I’d lost my train of thought for a minute. “All right then. Ivy’s down at the Rusty Nail, waiting for us.”
It took every last bit of strength, but I resisted placing my hand on the small of her back as I followed her down the stairs.
“We’re taking the ‘Vette tonight,” I announced the second we stepped outside.
“What is this, a date?” she asked.
I pulled the keys from my pocket and unlocked her door, pulling it open. “Only if you want it to be.”
Ten minutes later, we were walking into the Rusty Nail, or The Nail as the locals always called it.
“Beau!” Waylon, the bartender, greeted me as he wiped up the bar. A few regulars sat hunched over the bar nursing their beers, turning long enough to see it who it was before turning back to their drinks. That was always the nice thing about Darlington. It was the only place in most of America that I could walk into a hometown bar and be left alone enough to enjoy a couple drinks. “Who’s this pretty little thing on your arm?”
“This is Dakota,” I said, gripping my arm around her tense shoulders. “She’s an old friend of mine. We go way back.”
“You ain’t from around here, are you, darling?” Waylon asked, keeping his eyes above neck-level out of respect for me.
“Actually, I grew up here.” She smiled politely.
Waylon tossed her a cock-eyed smile. “Huh. Didn’t know Darlington ever made anything as pretty as you.”
“Hey, now, Waylon.” I placed my hand in the air as if to imply she was spoken for.
“Sorry, Beau,” Waylon laughed. “Darling, what are we drinking tonight?”
Dakota opened her mouth to order, but I stopped her. “We’re going to start out with some shots. Three tequila shots, Waylon.”
“You got it.” Waylon spun around and grabbed a bottle of Patron and some sliced lime wedges.
“You seen Ivy?” I asked. “Said she was here already.”
Waylon nodded toward the back of the bar where Ivy was cornered by Billy Loeffler, the guy who’d chased her all around in her younger days – the guy I’d chased away from her every chance I got.
“Ivy,” I shouted out, grabbing her attention. She popped her head up, her face lighting up like a sky full of stars when she saw us. She tore herself away from a disappointed-looking Billy and ran to the bar. “What’re you doing over there with Billy?”
“He cornered me.” She rolled her eyes before eyeing the shots Waylon lined up for us one by one. “Oh, you’re bad.”
“Ready?” I handed the ladies their shots and sprinkled salt on the tops of their hands.
Salt. Shoot. Suck.
Dakota slammed her glass down on the bar and slapped her hand down, her face puckered and pinched from the tart lime.
“One more,” Dakota said, motioning toward Waylon.
“Your wish is my command, princess,” Waylon said as he readied another round.
Dakota’s shoulders relaxed a bit and her face unstiffened.