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Sam didn’t expect much at Dulcy’s. Not that she anticipated anything other than some improvement in her mood. The fire and thoughts of Mark and Amanda’s situation weighed heavy on her mind.
The band was good, the crowd large and enthusiastic. Enough so, as the minutes passed, her energy improved, as did her mood. When the band took a break, a pretty, middle-aged woman with long brown hair, walked onto the stage. Picking up a microphone, she scanned the crowd.
“Anyone up for a line dance lesson?”
The crowd cheered and clapped. The noise continued until the floor was full of women and a few men, all taking spots facing the stage. Sam joined the first line.
Logan watched from their table. His thoughts turned to the fire, then to Sam. Their friendship continued to grow as they spent more time together.
He’d viewed her as another of the ranch hands. A person to share their free time without any expectations. Over his time being around Sam, the expectations shifted in a way he wasn’t prepared to define.
Logan didn’t do girlfriends. Not since being dumped in high school by a girl he’d come to care about. They’d been an item during his junior and senior years. He’d expected the relationship to continue when both attended community college. Her thoughts had been different.
One and done. He almost laughed at the cheesy expression. Silly or not, the phrase defined his life since high school.
Sam had him rethinking his aversion to another relationship. Watching her line dance, he couldn’t be certain if the change included Sam or some other woman.
It had to be someone else, he scoffed. Sam was great, but not the woman of his dreams. Smart, funny, a hard worker, and pretty. Why not Sam? His brows furrowed as he wondered if not Sam, who was the woman of his dreams?
When the music ended, she walked back to their table, picking up her bottle of water for a long swallow.
“That was just what I needed.” She took a smaller sip.
“Yeah?” His voice came out weak and distant.
“Great song, fun dance. I’ll probably never do it again, but, oh well…” Sam shrugged, the smile still brightening her face.
The band returned, choosing a fast two-step. Logan stood, holding out his hand. “Let’s dance.”
Miguel Hobson sat at the bar on the other side of the room. He drank a second beer as he watched the action on the dance floor and at various tables. Making a game of guessing what the customers did for a living helped to pass the time. Something he had a great deal of since losing his last job.
One person had caught his interest. A pretty woman with short black hair, dark eyes, and a complexion consistent with those who worked outdoors. She’d marched onto the dance floor, taking a spot in the front row for the line dance lesson.
Afterward, she threaded her way between tables to one occupied by a handsome young man who sat alone. Miguel wondered at the man’s name, how he’d met the woman, and how close was their friendship.
When the man stood, holding out his hand, the woman didn’t hesitate to thread her fingers with his. The couple danced well, as if they’d been together a long time.
Miguel knew that wasn’t the case.
Finished with his beer, he motioned the bartender for a third drink. After all, he had a short walk to the room he rented. He grinned at the thought of the tiny room in an old building. Though in good condition and clean, his fingers almost touched the walls when he extended his arms.
Miguel overlooked the room’s shortcomings. The tiny room fit his miniscule budget. As an added advantage, he could pay by the day instead of signing a lease.
“Are you here by yourself?” An average looking young woman, with long red hair and green eyes, nodded toward the empty place beside him.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.” She draped her shoulder bag over the back of the bar stool and sat down. When the bartender arrived, she ordered a soft drink. Something Miguel hadn’t expected. “I come here for the line dance lessons. My work shift starts at ten at night, so I don’t stay long.”
Miguel cocked his head to the side. “Where do you work?”
“At the hospital. I’m a nurse.”
“Hmmm.” He returned his attention to the dance floor.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a mechanic.”
