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I have to say, I like where her head is at. “Yeah, I like that idea. What else you got?”
“Umm...” She steps into the house, and I close the door behind her, noticing that she’s wearing a different dress. This one is black with silver buttons down the front, and it’s curved to fit her frame. Her hair is long and twisted to the side, and her lips are crimson red. She’s beautiful, but do I tell her that? Is that weird? “What about Jolene? You have to name her Jolene!”
“What does that have to do with the rodeo?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know, but it's country sounding… like you.”
“Or it’s Dolly soundin’ like you. I assume you’re named after Dolly Parton?”
She nods. “My mom was obsessed, and now I’m obsessed. But you have to admit, Jolene is a great name for a dog. I mean, she’s even got the emerald eyes.”
Dolly’s looking at the dog, but I’m studying Dolly and that tight black dress that’s not at all seasonally appropriate. I wonder if she’s worn it to impress me. I should say something. But when she glances back toward me, I turn away and move toward the stove to attend to the boiling water.
Company isn’t a regular thing here, so I don’t think to take her coat until she’s hanging it up herself. What the hell is wrong with me? I turn around to circle back to the manners I should’ve had to begin with, but she’s already moved on to a jar of dog treats on the counter.
“Sit.” The dog sits and Dolly smiles, giving her the treat and petting her excitedly. “Good girl, Jolene! You’re such a good girl!”
Training a dog shouldn’t get me excited, but here I am, noodles boiling over, my eyes glued to the little girl training the dog. Clearly, I’m lonelier than I thought.
“You’re really just gonna name my dog?”
She stands from the floor and nods with a smile. “Do you really hate it? I mean, look at her. She looks like a Jolene.”
I stare down at the scruffy faced German Shepard. The brown and black on her ears really do highlight the green in her eyes. I’m not sure who in the hell she looks like, but I know for a fact that from now on, I’ll be calling this dog Jolene.
“Come sit down. I made spaghetti.”
“Spaghetti is cowboy food?” Dolly narrows her brows.
“Spaghetti is girl food. I looked it up.”
She laughs. “You looked up what girl food was?”
I nod and settle two plates of pasta with sauce and homemade garlic bread on the table. “Yeah, apparently girls like pasta and bread.”
She reaches for a slice and settles at the table. “Well, lucky for you, the internet is right. Spaghetti is my favorite. My grandma makes her own recipe.”
I sit down next to her and pour us both a glass of wine. I’m not usually a wine drinker, but the internet says this is what I should do. “Well, don’t expect this to be as good as Grandma’s. I intended on listenin’ to the recipe, but I ended up addin’ in a bunch of stuff that I thought would go better. We’ll see.”
She twists her fork into the noodles and spreads out the sauce, taking a bite as Jolene stares up at her from the floor. She’s gotten into the habit of doing that, begging for food. I should put that on the list of things to work on.
“Okay, this is actually fantastic!” Dolly digs in for another bite. “Like really, really fantastic. Like, I’d gather to say,” she lowers her voice as though Grandma is in the room listening, “the best I’ve ever had. What’s in it?”
“Don’t even remember now. Garlic, brown sugar, oregano, steak seasoning…”
“Steak seasoning?” she laughs. “You put steak seasoning in your spaghetti sauce?”
“Yeah. That weird?”
“A little, but it’s good.” She’s smiling. I like her like this.
What in the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t like her like this. This isn’t a date. It’s a mission.
I suck down a sip of the sweet wine I grabbed at the general store and glance toward her. She’s stunning. That said, I don’t have time for this. I need to drive the conversation back to relevant topics. “So, what kinds of things should we talk about? What big secrets should I know about you?”
She takes a sip of wine and talks as she eats, as though she’s comfortable, as though we’re comfortable with each other.
“Umm… first of all, where are you from? You don’t sound like folks around here.”
