Page 16 of Halo

I huff under my breath as I stare at the solid mass of a white pit bull, his smile wide and inviting with his tongue lolling halfway out the side. “What’s his name?”

“Angus.”

“Fitting.” I pass the phone back to her. “How old is he?”

“Let’s see … I’ve had him for almost five years, and I rescued him when he was three ...”

“So, he’s an old man.”

She gasps. “Who’s going to live forever,” she corrects.

“Oh, of course.” I grin as we both chuckle knowingly. “He looks like a good boy.”

“He’s a very good boy. I didn’t realize when I got him the different ways he would rescue me.” Her expression softens as she stares at her lock screen. “Anyway, my sister-in-law texted me to let me know that she stopped in, and he has been walked, fed, and cuddled.”

“I’m guessing she does this for you on the nights you work?”

“Yep—well, it’s only on Tuesday nights.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “You’re only here on Tuesday nights?”

“Which is why I don’t need you scaring her off.” Skye sneaks in behind her, coming out to make her rounds. “My regulars only want to work the weekends, Wednesday karaoke night, college night, and Monday Night Football because of the—” She rubs her thumb against her fingers. “I don’t want to cut anyone, so I decided to offer a recurring Tuesday night shift with better pay.”

“And I was looking for part-time that wouldn’t interfere too much with my teaching job.”

Skye wraps an arm around Leah. “And she’s good, right?”

My eyes linger on Leah’s for a second too long. “Meh, she’s alright.”

She squints. “He’s just bitter that I beat him at Go Fish—”

“I went easy on her—”

“You did not, you fibber.”

“Fibber? Is that supposed to hurt my feelings?”

We fall into comfortable laughs, and God, it’s fun hearing her so tickled over something so mundane. There’s something about it that’s freeing.

Skye’s eyes bounce between us, curiously raising an eyebrow. “Right. So … carry on.”

As she disappears into the nearly-empty place, the familiar twang of a country song floats over the speakers. Leah’s smile doubles in size as she bobs her head to the beat.

“George Strait fan?” I ask.

She gasps. “Mind your manners, cowboy. He’s King George Strait to you.” She giggles. “And yeah. My mama would listen to his music while she sewed in her craft room. I’d come in and dance around, as if I knew how to two-step—which I didn’t.” She glances around the open floor in front of the bar. “Do you want to dance?”

My eyes widen. “I—uh, no. That’s just—no.”

“Oh c’mon. It’ll be fun—”

“When a lady asks you to dance, you take her hand.” Hal interrupts from down the way. “The Good Lord will always provide the music and the floor.” He stands from his bar stool, finishes his beer, then extends his arm to Leah.

She looks back at me one last time before taking Hal’s hand. The moment they step onto the dance floor, I regret my decision.

Somewhere between write this down and take a little note, I curse at myself. Their dancing is pretty terrible. Hal misses a step, nearly taking them both down as she trips over his tipsy two left feet. Even though she’s quite a bit shorter, Leah steadies them both, and they eventually find the beat. Moments later, she squeals as they stumble their way through his attempt at a twirl.

Leah's cheeks are flushed pink, her smile bright enough to rival the neon signs glowing behind her. Every time she throws her head back and laughs, the whole room seems to tilt toward her, a luminous joy that’s impossible to ignore.