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I pull into a space in front of Vows and look over to find Ivy smiling at me. That wry, amused smile—the one that makes me want to tug her to me and kiss her until she gives up her secrets.
“What?” I demand.
“Is nostalgia why you dress like a cowboy?” she teases.
“Hey,” I say. “It was tough to find these duds! Mack’s is the only place left in town where you can find a pair of cowboy boots.”
“And the hat?”
“Stole it off a sleeping cowboy,” I drawl.
She laughs, and I feel it all the way down to my toes. I want to reach for her, so I turn away and swing myself down.
Inside, Oscar’s is hopping. Nothing about this place has changed, thankfully—not the saloon doors that welcome us in, not the stuffed elk and moose heads over the bar, not the nonsensical music selection, and not the mural of Old Rush Creek in the back: dry-goods store, primitive post office, cowboys, and all.
We find our way to the bar and introduce ourselves to Alana, a young woman in a barely there wrap top and an equally tiny miniskirt.
“I can’t believe this! I loved you in the Crown of Spires movies. And you’re?—”
She gives Ivy an appraising look, and we wait for it.
“—the one in the overalls that he proposed to!” she says with delight.
Ivy and I choke back matching laughs. “Yeah,” she says. “That’s me. Overalls girl.”
“Would you sign a coaster for me?” Alana asks, reaching under the bar and dropping one in front of me along with a pen.
“Of course.”
I scribble her name and my illegible signature and hand it back to her. She examines it, beaming. “Oh my God. This makes my day. I’m bartending Lord Extyllior’s wedding! What can I get you guys?”
We both order burgers, and Ivy says, “We should probably have mixed drinks, right? Since that’s your specialty? What’s your favorite?”
“I call it a Rush Creek Flyer. It’s basically an Aviation but with blackberry liqueur.”
“Bring it!” Ivy says.
A few moments later, Alana places two distinctly purply drinks in front of us.
“It’s so pretty!” Ivy says, cheers-ing me with her glass and tipping it to take a drink. She closes her eyes, savoring the mouthful. I imagine that face in a different context, her eyes closing as I slide down her body…
She opens her eyes to find me staring at her. The corners of her mouth turn up, stoking more warmth in my gut. I can’t take my eyes off her. I lean closer to her, not sure what I mean to do, only knowing that the force pulling me toward her is stronger than anything keeping me away.
Alana bumps back up to the bar, and I jerk back reflexively.
“So? What do you think?” she crows.
Ivy beams. “It’s really good!”
“Hanna said you wanted a signature cocktail? For the wedding?”
“Yes!”
“What’s the wedding’s theme?”
Ivy and I look at each other. “It doesn’t really have a theme,” she tells Alana.
“Crown of Spires?” Alana asks.
