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“They came in last night, late. Apparently the mom was hit in a parking lot and an old woman brought in the kittens,” Fisher explained.
“That was kind.” Kylee spoke softly, still considering her cinnamon roll. He liked the hint of a smile on her mouth.
“Can we, Kylee?” Shawn polished off his roll. “I’ll volunteer.”
Kylee glanced at Fisher, her posture easing a little. “I guess.”
“I’m sure the little guys’ll be happy to see you.” Fisher knew he was. Now he just needed to convince Archer to ride Waylon so he could drive them to the hospital. And he’d need to convince Waylon to let Archer ride him.
* * *
KYLEE WIPED DOWN the counter that ran along the back of the dance hall. Friday nights were becoming her favorite. Seeing all the families together, generations gathered together for fun and camaraderie, gave her a glimpse of what life should be. She had no illusions about her future—but there was hope for Shawn. A word she didn’t have a lot of experience with.
Shawn waved from his seat at the end of the bar, his sketchbook and pencils in front of him. He’d wandered some, enjoying the company of a few boys close to his age. But not for long. Being social was a challenge, even a little stressful. She understood all too well. Her job required her to interact with people but it was all superficial and limited. Making friends, having conversations, was different. Was it possible he’d forget? That eventually he wouldn’t be so restrained or hesitant? She wanted that for him. She wanted him to smile, laugh, to act like a kid.
Since it was Friday, Shawn wasn’t banished to the break room or the apartment. Cutter believed the dance hall was for families, not just adults.
“Need anything?” she asked, giving him a one-armed hug.
“A soda?” Shawn asked.
“What are you working on?” she asked, sliding a glass of water across the counter.
He frowned at the water, but emptied the glass. “Nothing much.”
He’d moved his arm to shield his sketch, but she’d glimpsed what looked like a kitten. “You know, you can put that away and hang out with Eli.”
“Later, maybe. Need me to move? Am I in the way?”
She covered his hand with hers. “No. You’re great.”
He grinned at her.
“Sorry if I’m being nosy or overprotective. Old habits die hard.” She shook her head. “I’m trying to lighten up.” She nodded at a girl who had been staring at her brother. “You know, you could try dancing.”
Shawn glanced at the girl, then back at his sister. “Nope.” He shook his head. “I’m good.”
“Hey, pretty lady.” A man rested his elbow on the counter. “Any chance you can get a pitcher for me and my friends over there?” He nodded at the table behind him.
“Coming up,” she answered, giving Shawn a little farewell salute. She grabbed an empty plastic pitcher and turned to the tap.
“That’s some view,” the man murmured.
She ignored the urge to pull her shirt over her butt and kept working.
He tried again. “Don’t remember seein’ you here before. And with a face like yours, I’d remember.” There was a brief pause before he asked, “How about you join us when you get your break?”
She ignored him, finished filling the pitcher and placed it on the counter. “Fifteen dollars.”
“You keep the change.” He placed a twenty on the counter. “You decide you’re lookin’ for a little fun, come on over and visit with a couple of real cowboys. What d’ya think?”
She shot him a look then. He was somewhat attractive, fit and trim, but his smile was oily and his interest in her boobs was a little too obvious. He seemed to be waiting for her answer. Was he serious? Did women really respond to this?
“Limited time offer.” His gaze swept over her face before settling on her chest again. “Just in town for the rodeo tomorrow night. Be a real shame for you to miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
She tried not to smile. She’d had a lot of bad pick-up lines thrown her way. But the whole “once-in-a-lifetime experience” was a new one.
“Come on, darlin’, give me a smile,” the man continued. “Sure would be nice to show me some Southern hospitality.”
