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They said goodnight to Brulee, who could barely lift her head to acknowledge that they were going to leave her. Maggie left a light on and the TV, just for the dog’s entertainment, and they locked up the cottage and got into the truck.
The ride on the dark, bumpy road signified they were on their way to fun.
“It’s amazing that only a few trips into town with you on this road and now I’m excited, like Pavlov’s dog.”
“Ha! You mean I just need to bounce you around a little bit and you’re happy?”
“Pretty much.”
They arrived at the roadhouse, and the music drifted out into the parking lot.
“They’re starting early tonight,” Maggie said.
A long banner hanging off the porch explained why; it was the annual Christmas Dance Contest.
“We might as well not even go inside,” Maggie said, disappointed.
“To hell with that. Come on. We’re dancing tonight, sweetheart. Get ready.”
They held hands, walking quickly to the entrance, some of Justin’s excitement and enthusiasm catching so that now Maggie wondered if that was why she’d felt compelled to practice that afternoon, the rhythm of the music she had listened to matching up with the accordion and scratchboard and violins coming from the building until she felt like swirling around on the dance floor in Justin’s arms.
They didn’t waste any time, either. Justin paid their entrance fee, and numbered banners were pinned to their backs. Holding out his hand for her, he pulled Maggie into an embrace that included pressing his hips right up against hers, sweeping her around the dance floor. It was a first, a hot guy grinding against her, hips to hips, shoulder to shoulder. Within seconds, she could feel his hard penis up against her, his arms wrapped around her like he was going to have sex with her right on the dance floor.
“It’s not just their dancing,” someone whispered. “Look at that couple. Hot!”
Dave got home from work after seven with an attitude that had taken a one-hundred-eighty-degree switch. It didn’t take long for Amber to see that he was agitated about something.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” she asked, following him into her bedroom.
“No. I want to go out tonight. Are you game?”
“To do what?” she asked, not really in the mood to leave the apartment. She’d studied all day and was exhausted, and on Sunday she liked to be up early at the horse preserve for her volunteer day.
“Let’s head out to the roadhouse. I feel like eating greasy barbeque and dancing my ass off.”
Heart sinking, it was the last thing Amber wanted to do. Gone was the earlier excitement about getting married and making plans to move to a bigger house, things she’d thought about all day and was eager to speak with him about further. He was in the here and now and wanted all the physical satisfaction he could cram into one evening.
“Let’s stay home, and I’ll make you something to eat, and we can have sex again.”
Shoulders drooping, she almost laughed it was so pathetic. So this was Dave in a mood.
“Maybe later. Right now, I need to burn off some steam. Let’s go.”
“I need to get dressed.”
“You look fine. We’re going to a roadhouse, not a five-star dining experience.”
Resigned, this was the beginning of their relationship. It sure hadn’t taken long to deescalate. In silence, he drove farther out of town. The roadhouse was set back from a dirt road, and even with the windows up, they could hear zydeco music, the beat vibrating in her chest.
In the parking lot, Dave moaned.
“Great, that’s my brother’s piece-of-shit truck, looking like it just came out of the damn carwash. I don’t feel like having to make small talk with them.”
“Let’s not go in if it will bother you to see him,” Amber said softly.
“Why would it bother me?”
“You just said you didn’t want to talk to him.”
