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But I can see the way their gazes linger, how they size him up, comparing worn boots and faded tattoos. They’re curious, alright, about him, a man who doesn’t fit their mold, who commands the space without saying a word.
“Looks like trouble,” another mutters, Dale, sipping his beer with a scowl. “Bet he thinks he owns the place.”
“Maybe,” I say, but my mind snags on the ‘trouble’ part. “Seems to me he’s just enjoying the music,” I add, more to myself than anyone else.
My fingers twitch, itching to pour another drink, to do something, anything to ease the restless energy bubbling within me.
“Jane,” Texas calls, and there’s a lilt in his voice that sends shivers down my spine. “How about playing something with a little more... soul?”
“Sure thing,” I reply, fighting back the smile that threatens to break free.
I select a song, something slow and sultry, and the opening bars fill the room, smooth as honey and twice as sweet.
I glance over at Texas. He’s watching me, a knowing look in those blue depths, and it’s like he sees straight through to the core of me.
“Nice choice,” he says, and there’s an invitation in his gaze that has my heart hammering against my ribcage. “You’ve got good taste.”
“Thanks,” I manage, feeling heat creep into my cheeks.
“Hey, Tex!” a voice booms from the other end of the bar. “What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“Adventure,” he replies simply, with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “And maybe a bit of destiny.”
“Destiny, huh?” I echo. “Sounds like a heavy load to carry.”
“Only if you let it be,” he counters, his voice low and rich.
The night wears on, thick with anticipation and unspoken promises. My pulse races with each passing moment, each stolen glance shared between us.
I’m drawn closer to him, like planets caught in each other’s orbit. But the truth is, I’m already too close to the flame. And deep down, I’m not sure I want to escape the heat.
The jukebox croons a slow, melancholic tune. The notes are thick with nostalgia, pulling at the edges of memories I keep locked away. I wipe down the counter, the rag in my hand moving in time with the music, my motions a quiet echo to the song’s rhythm.
“Ever danced to this one, Jane?” Texas asks, his voice a low hum that vibrates under my skin.
“Can’t say that I have,” I reply, keeping my eyes on the polished wood beneath my fingers. “Dancing isn’t really my thing.”
“Shame,” he muses, taking a slow sip from his bottle. “Seems like you’d be good at it.”
I glance up, meeting his intense gaze, and something flutters in my chest. His blue eyes hold mine, and there’s a question in them that goes beyond dancing. It’s an invitation, one I’m not sure I’m ready to accept.
“Maybe another time,” I say, but my words are a half-hearted deflection.
“Maybe tonight,” he counters, pushing the empty bottle toward me for a refill.
I busy myself with grabbing a bottle of beer and with a steady hand place it on the bar. But my pulse thrums, insistent, betraying my calm exterior. The air between us is charged, every word, every look, adding fuel to a fire I thought long extinguished.
“Jane,” he starts again, his tone softer now, “what’s holding you back?”
“Life,” I answer simply because it’s the truth.
Life, with its responsibilities and tragedies, has taught me to build walls. But as I steal another look at him, I can’t help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—he could scale them.
“Life’s too short for what-ifs,” he says, echoing my thoughts.
“Too long for mistakes,” I shoot back, the corner of my mouth lifting in a wry smile.
“Guess we’re at an impasse then.”
