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“That wasn’t a lie.” He takes another sip, dragging out my wait to hear his explanation. “That was me single-handedly ensuring that you’d be the hottest woman here. No one likes the cowgirl slut routine. Every damn guy in this place has been checking you out since you walked in so I’d say I did a good job picking out that dress.”
“Oh my god no they aren’t.” I roll my eyes and do a pretty good job of faking like I’m not completely embarrassed and flattered at the
same time.
The fast paced country song comes to an end and the sudden silence between songs makes Tyler’s gaze feel more intimate than it should. He’s sipping his beer, watching me squirm with this little smirk on his face. Ugh, I hate him.
Another song starts up, a slow country ballad that I remember from my childhood. It’s a Travis Tritt song—I don’t even know how I know that. I think Mom loved him. And she loved this song, I had the Best of Intentions.
“You okay?” Tyler asks, nudging me on the elbow.
“Yeah.” I smile. “I just haven’t heard this song in a while.” I don’t tell him about the pang of nostalgia that rises up in my stomach, showing me memories of Grandpa dancing around the kitchen with Mom while they sang along to this song. She always popped in the Travis Tritt CD when she was on one of her heartbroken rampages. Then she’d badmouth my father for leaving us and tell me over and over again, “That’s why you’re a Carter not a Smith. You hear me? You’re a Carter! You’re my blood. Not his!”
The strong scent of men’s cologne chokes me out of that daydream and brings me back into the real world. An older man who is dressed to the nines in his Wrangler jeans, an ironed plaid cowboy shirt and a fancy hat that probably cost a fortune stands in front of us. He shakes Tyler’s hand.
“I ought to whoop your ass, boy,” he says.
“Why’s that?” Tyler asks, seemingly unaffected by the man’s threat.
“Because you ain’t asked this pretty girl to dance yet. What is wrong with you, boy?”
Before Tyler can answer, the old man reaches out and takes my hand. “Would you have this dance with me, darling?” I glance at Tyler and find him watching me with a curious expression. I think he’s judging me, trying to guess if I’ll play it safe and refuse the old man or if I’m up for a little adventure. Not wanting to let him down, I stand up. “I would love to dance with you,” I tell the man.
I don’t look back at Tyler as my partner walks me to the dance floor, but I’m pretty sure I know what expression is on that ridiculously cute face of his.
I don’t dace well enough to be considered good at it, but luckily neither does my partner. He introduces himself as Joe Luebeck the third, born and raised in Salt Gap, Texas. “I’m Robin Carter,” I say in return. “I was born in Texas but raised in Houston.”
“That’s good enough, I suppose. A Texan is a Texan. You know I used to know a Carter.”
“Oh yeah?” I remember the photo in the counter at the diner. “Who?”
“Ol’ Joe Carter. We had the same first name but we couldn’t be more different. My daddy spoiled us but he was poor and worked for every damn thing he had.” My heart almost stops as I hear this new information. Out of all the people in this town, I’ve stumbled upon one who knew my grandfather. How many Joe Carters could there be in Salt Gap? It has to be him. “I didn’t have to work much, you know.” He smiles at me as we shuffle around the dance floor.
“That was my grandfather,” I say.
“No kiddin’?”
I shake my head as we dance to the slow country song. “Did you know him well?”
“Naw, not really. He was older than me. We had the same name though so that’s how I knew him. He was a good man. What happened to him?”
“He started a real estate business in Houston.” I swallow, gripping the old man’s boney shoulders as we traipse around the dance floor. I catch Tyler in the corner of my eye, still sitting at the bar watching me. I look back at Joe. “He passed away a couple months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Darlin.”
When the song ends, Joe leads me back to the bar. I hold on to his elbow and he seems to really like that. We walk up to Tyler and Joe grabs my hand, placing it on Tyler’s arm. Then he pats my shoulder and gives Tyler a piercing stare. “You take care of her, ya hear? This girl’s a real lady.”
Tyler nods. “Yes, sir. Will do.”
I roll my eyes as soon as Joe is out of earshot. “Old people are adorable.”
“He’s a character,” Tyler says, signaling to the bartender. “Ready for another?” he asks me. I shrug because yeah, I do want one, but no, I’m not sure I want him to pay for it. But he does. And when he hands me a second beer all I can do is thank him and wish that things didn’t feel so awkward. There was a time when I liked men buying me drinks. Now, well, now I don’t know what I like.
“So how’s the apartment?”
“It’s great,” I say, thankful for something to talk about. “I don’t like not having cable television but that isn’t your fault.”
He shakes his head. “You tourists are all the same. You can’t waste your life watching TV, ya know.” He nudges my arm with his cold beer bottle. “You’re young. You should be out doing stuff.”
