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The jukebox continued playing preselections while Leroy tapped out the drumbeat on the glass front. Jessy wasn’t sure why she was even looking at the record choices. They hadn’t been changed all summer.
“Hey! Bring me another beer!” It was Ty who shouted the order, and Jessy turned. He was passing the pool stick to another player when he spied her at the jukebox. The record changed and the song “Cotton-eyed Joe” came over the speakers.
“How about this one?” Leroy asked and she looked to see which one he’d picked, already certain she wouldn’t like it.
An arm hooked her around the stomach and hauled her sideways. Her breath came rushing into her lungs in stunned surprise. Ty smiled lazily down at her with that taunting gleam in his half-glazed eyes. Her hip was clamped to his thigh while her shoulder and arm were awkwardly trapped against his chest. She felt her heart knocking crazily against her ribs.
“I ain’t seen you dancing once all night, Jessy.” His husky voice had a faint slur to it. “Let’s see if you’re as good on a dance floor as you are on a horse.”
“Ty Calder, you’re drunk,” she accused.
“I ask you to dance”—he frowned irritably—“not give me a lecture.” Then he looked past her to smile with benign contempt at her date. “You don’t mind, do you, Andersen?”
“I don’t mind, Mr. Calder.”
“Did you hear that?” A dark eyebrow was arched unnaturally high into his sun-browned forehead as he looked again at Jessy. “Mister Calder has permission from your date to dance with you.” His head made a wobbly nod of mock formality.
“All right, we’ll dance,” she agreed. “If you can stand up that long.”
She was loosened from his hold so they could move single file the few steps to the small cleared dancing area. When Jessy turned to face him, his circling arm once again brought her tightly against his body. Their hips were nearly joining as she straddled his thigh so there would be some place to put her feet without stepping on his boots. The contact signaled his every movement in advance, making it easy for Jessy to follow his lead, but the closeness that let her feel every ripple of his muscles was disturbing.
In the first few turns around the small area, he seemed to make a concentrated effort to coordinate his feet in the right pattern. Jessy was beginning to wonder if Ty was as drunk as she’d first thought. Then his concentration broke and he stumbled.
“Sorry,” he muttered, then nearly stepped on her toe.
His hold on her tightened, and Jessy realized he was relying on her balance. His hat was pulled low on his forehead, shading his features so they wouldn’t show his struggle for a moment’s sobriety.
“Maybe I should lead and you follow,” she suggested.
Ty stiffened. “I’ll be damned if I’ll let you lead.” He started whirling her around the dance floor, hardly letting her feet touch the floor.
When the song finally ended, he stopped and let her go. Swaying unsteadily, he swept off his hat and tried to make a mock bow, but he staggered sideways. Jessy grabbed for him and helped him into a chair someone slid to them.
“Whew!” He tried to appear out of breath, but she suspected the room was spinning on him. “I need another beer.”
“You’ve had enough,” she stated.
“You’re right,” Ty agreed with her unexpectedly and stood up, but he made sure he held on to the chair back. “It’s late. I gotta be gettin’ home.” He began groping in his pockets. “Where’s the keys?” Then he shouted to the room, “Anybody seen my keys?”
“You’re in no condition to drive home,” Jessy announced while he swayed.
“I left them in the truck,” he remembered and turned to lurch toward the door.
Someone grabbed him before he stumbled into a table, and Jessy darted forward to drape his arm over her shoulder and steer him in the right direction.
“Jessy, where’re you going?” Leroy appeared at her side, frowning as he walked to keep up with her.
“Ty’s too drunk to drive home. His truck is outside, so I’ll take him back. It’s late anyway.” She struggled under his weight as he relied more on her than his unsteady legs.
“D’ya want me to come with you?” Leroy wasn’t sure what he should do.
“There’s no need of you following us all the way to the ranch, then have to drive home.” Actually she was relieved to have a premature end to the date.
With the help of a couple other Triple C riders, Jessy was able to maneuver Ty into the cab of the truck. He protested when she slid behind the wheel, insisting he could drive, but she ignored him.
“You think I’m drunk, don’t ya?” His words were slurred. When he tried to stare her down, her image started blurring as if it were trying to separate into two. Ty wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think she was even looking at him. “Well, I am,” he informed her proudly and grabbed for the support of the door when the truck accelerated in a swinging turn onto the two-lane. “I’m a Calder, ya know.” He braced himself for further unexpected turns that didn’t come. “And a Calder always does what he sets out to do.” He attempted to enunciate the words clearly. “Tonight, I set out to get drunk—and I did it.”
“You certainly did,” Jessy murmured.
