“Hey, Al,” I called over to him. “Who or what exactly is Redd Co.?”
“I believe that’s the company that purchased Highland Power,” Al replied. “Last December. Little bull logo, right?”
“That’s the one,” I said. “I don’t know why that seems familiar to me.”
At that exact moment from the corner of my eye I saw Case’s big maroon truck glide unexpectedly into view, just outside the front window. Heart already throbbing, I watched him park just at the curb and everything within me sprang to instant, delighted life. Staring dumbly, I observed Case round the hood, hop up the curb and then push through the doors to the tingle of the bell. I was already standing up, restraining the urge to jump straight into his arms. I hadn’t seen him since last night when I’d left him standing at the base of the wizard rock.
“Hey there,” he said, removing his sunglasses and tapping them against his thigh, cowboy hat in place.
“Hey,” I said back, all of the longing for him that I was not supposed to feel emerging just a little too overtly in my voice. The song “Just a Kiss” was playing on the radio; for an instant I imagined Case singing it just for me.
“You left before I got back,” he said, low, no trace of a smile.
I didn’t know how to respond, my eyes moving between his lips and his beautiful eyes.
We continued to stare wordlessly at each other until Al teased, from his side of the office, “Hello to you too, Spicer.”
At this, Case seemed to come back to himself, turning to Al, lifting a hand and saying, “Hi, Al. How goes it?”
“All right,” Al said, coming around to shake Case’s hand. Al continued, “What are your plans this evening, young fellow?”
I listened fervently, trying to appear as though it didn’t matter a whit to me what he was doing tonight. Case turned back to me and said, as though speaking to Al, but staring right into my eyes, “I wondered if Tish wanted to come with me this evening. We have a gig over in a bar in Miles City in about two hours.” My heart responded like a bomb detonating as Case thumbed casually over his shoulder, towards his truck. “I have Wy out there. He’s hitching a ride with me.” And then, softly, to me, “What do you say?”
“I would love to,” I said calmly, pretending that I didn’t feel as though all of heaven had opened up to me.
Tish, for fuck’s sake. Wy is right out there in the truck.
But Case is here! He’s here to pick me up! He came to see if I wanted to come with him!
Is this a date?! It’s not a date!
I put a lid on my exuberant thought-flow and said, “What time…”
“Pretty quick here,” Case said. “Sorry, I should have called…”
I was all quivery and warm, but I kept a calm face as I said, “Just give me one second.”
I walked with admirable poise to the employee bathroom; once behind the closed door I leaned towards the mirror over the sink and tried to draw a full breath. My cheeks were bright, my eyes even brighter. I looked a little drunk, actually. My clothes were not exactly the sexiest things I owned; I smoothed the t-shirt over my belly and tugged at my shorts. At least I could take my hair down.
Critically I perused my make-up (basically nonexistent), and ran a fingertip over my eyelashes on either side, then hurried to unclasp my hair, tipping at the waist to shake it out. When I straightened, I finger-combed it over my shoulders, my heart crashing all over the place inside my chest, feeling like I was taking too much time in here; I could hear Al and Case talking. Stilling the trembling in my knees with a great deal of effort, I reentered the main office.
I couldn’t make myself meet Case’s eyes, although he had fallen utterly still and was looking at me steadily. But the moment my gaze flashed to his, unable to help myself, he made sure he was glancing back out the window, away from me.
“Someone might slap a suit on you for looking so pretty, counselor,” Al teased me. “You have a fun night. You deserve it. Working on a Saturday.”
“I will, and thank you,” I said. To Case, I added, “Just let me grab my purse.”
He held the door for me; I passed close by him on the way out, inhaling as unobtrusively as I could when I was near. Outside, in the still, hot evening air, I couldn’t help but say, “I’m so glad you came to get me.”
I loved how a smile could touch his eyes first, before reaching his mouth, and how I could see this. He replied easily, “I thought you might like a night out. Here, let me get that.”
At the passenger door of the truck, I paused and turned to look at him, really look at him, clutching my purse to my waist. He was only about two feet away, but it was too far from me. His eyes, his beautiful auburn eyes, held mine and he grinned at me, sweetly and effortlessly. I felt as buoyant as a dandelion seed and smiled right back. His forearm was very near my waist as he held the door handle, poised to open it for me.
“Come on, you guys!” Wy called from in the truck, leaning forward from the backseat. “I’m starved! Tish, you get the front seat, Case said.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, as Case opened the door and I climbed in; I turned at once to Wy and said, “Hey there, buddy. You have a fake ID, or what?”
Wy laughed. He looked cute, his shaggy hair combed into something resembling order, wearing an old black Grateful Dead t-shirt. Case climbed in the driver’s side and happiness absolutely punched me in the gut. Hard, almost doubling me over with the force of it. I stowed my purse on the floor at my feet so that there was nothing between Case and me. He tipped his chin to the right, my direction, for just a second as he shifted into first, still smiling.
“So, where exactly are we going?” I asked as Case took the truck straight out of town, hooking east onto I94.
“We have a show at a bar in Miles City, called the Coyote’s Den.” At my laughter, he hurried to explain, “It’s a great place, not as bad as the name implies. Garth and Marsh are on the way. Becky actually let Garth out of the house for the evening, to join us. I haven’t played with Garth for a long time. I’m pretty excited, actually.”
I could tell, though I tried to downplay as I said, “Well thanks for letting me tag along.”
“Tag along?” Wy scoffed, leaning so far forward that he came close to obscuring my view of Case. Wy added, “You aren’t tagging along. That’s what little sisters do. You shoulda heard Case, he said like twenty times that we had to stop and get you.”
Case suddenly cleared his throat at Wy’s words, while pure joy spread upward from the bottom of my stomach. I hadn’t felt this way in so long that I was almost dizzy; I looked away, out the window, to hide my smile. The foothills were gorgeous in the sunset, the scrubby brush sparking with splashes of orange light and intermittent shadows, mysterious and secretive. I wondered just what secrets were harbored out there that no one would ever discover, the original secret-keepers long dead. I leaned my right arm on edge of the window, pondering that thought.
“It’s weird,” said Wy, and I looked back at the boy. “I feel like you’ve been here a lot longer than these two weeks, you know? Almost like you’ve always been here.”
It was strange to hear him speak these words, when this notion had been circling me for days now, whispering to be acknowledged. I liked it here. I liked it a lot. It had to do with the very feeling of the air itself, a sense of being in the right place at the right time. Being near the right people. I moved my eyes back out the window, with sincere determination.
I thought, These will be good memories when you’re back in Chicago. When the city gets to be too much…
Oh God…
I said to Wy (but really to Case), “I’ve been feeling that way since I got here too, to be honest.”
Wy asked, sounding more like a little boy than ever, “Can we get elk steak before the show, huh, Case?”
Case laughed. I loved the sound of his laugh, which I had heard far too few times. I was already looking over at him, unable to help myself, watching his smile, the way the sunset li
ght pouring in the back window lit his shoulders, clad in a black t-shirt. I wanted to reach and take off his hat so that I could see his hair in the sunlight. Without realizing, I had angled my knees much closer to his side of the truck.
“Sure thing,” Case told Wy. To me, he said, “It’s a Montana specialty.”
“I’ll try it,” I said. “Camille really liked it, when they were out here.”
Wy piped up (and I liked the kid tremendously, but I so wished he had hitched a ride with his brothers instead), asking, “What are you guys playing tonight?”
“The Den wants classic rock, that’s what they told Garth,” Case replied, shifting into fifth gear as we cruised along the interstate, the wind ruffling my hair.
“What’s your favorite to play? Country, right?” I asked, though I was picturing him sleeping in his bed last night, in the sheets I had touched, with the pillow I had kissed. My stomach went hot and weightless at the very thought. Oh God, what if he had found my earring there?
“Country, old-time country,” he affirmed. “It’s what I was raised playing. But we have a pretty damn good range of material, so it’ll be fun to play something different tonight. What’s your favorite to hear?”
“I’ve always liked country music,” I said. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve listened to it like I have since moving here. In school these past three years old-time blues relaxed me as much as anything could. When I’d be studying late, or writing a new petition, I would listen to a lot of Bessie Smith and Jimmy Rogers. Thank goodness for my Pandora station. It introduced me to a lot of new music.”
“Jimmy Rogers on the harmonica is something else,” Case said. “That’s one instrument I have not mastered. But we can play you some Muddy Waters music, next time we’re around the fire.”
I couldn’t look away from him, studying his crisp profile against the blue of the evening sky out the driver’s side window.
“I can play the harmonica!” Wy piped up; I had almost forgotten he was with, so absorbed with Case.
Case laughed again, saying, “Yeah, you can. I’ll give you that. Can’t sing worth a shit though.”
We all laughed then, and Wy boxed at Case’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, I can’t sing worth a shit either,” I said. “Camille can sing, and Ruthie, but those talents skipped me, I guess.”
“You got other talents, like kicking butt,” Wy said, and I rolled my eyes at him, though I couldn’t help but smile at these words.
“Thanks,” I said.
“You worked yourself pretty hard in school, didn’t you?” Case asked then, looking back at me, but only for a second.
“I would have failed, if not,” I acknowledged.
“But I mean you worked harder than you probably had to, pushing yourself. I can still see you doing that,” he said.
“It’s my job now,” I said, my heart catching at the tone in his voice; he sounded concerned, I could tell, even if it was subtle. I thought of the sleepless smudges that still decorated the skin beneath his eyes, matching my own. Apparently neither of us was sleeping very well, alone.
“Al is right, you deserve a night out,” Case said. “Will you let us treat you to dinner? Wy and me, I mean?” How cagey of him, disguising his buying me dinner in this way. I felt myself smile hugely and he smiled back.
“I will,” I said. I addressed Wy as I went on, “I usually pick the most expensive thing on the menu, champagne, maybe lobster or a filet…”
“Or elk steak!” Wy said, reaching to rough up my hair.
I was so used to my cousin Clint doing this sort of thing that I evaded Wy and hooked him in a headlock, saying, “Ha!”
He struggled and I held, all of us laughing, Case making fun of the boy. I knuckled his scalp before letting him free.
“That’ll learn you,” I said, echoing Clint with those words, a little smug as Wy frantically inspected his reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing his hair.
Case took the exit into Miles City and drove us to a bar on the outskirts of the little town; though in comparison to Jalesville, this town was huge. We pulled into a bumping bar and grill with a gigantic howling wolf’s head appearing to break through the roof.
“Oh, wow,” I said, marveling. “Look at that wolf.”
Case gently nudged my arm and noted, “Coyote. That’s a coyote, lawyer lady.”
I giggled, loving how at ease he seemed, like the way he’d been around the campfire roasting marshmallows. Wy jumped out of the back door and into the parking lot; I could smell steak and grease already and my stomach rumbled. I allowed, “Right. I stand corrected.” I noticed a smudge of dust on the bottom of my t-shirt and swiped at it, saying, “I hope I’m not too underdressed…”
Case was already grinning again. He said, “Are you kidding? For a place called the Coyote’s Den?” His tone changed just subtly and I knew he was clearly teasing me, but my heart threw itself against my ribs as he spoke my name, saying, “Tish, you’re way overdressed for this place.” And then he added quietly, “Besides, you couldn’t look more beautiful.”
My eyes flew to his to find him calmly studying me, a half-smile on his lips. I thought of how I’d touched his chin last night. How I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to tell him that I had never been so drawn to someone in my life, that I dreamed about him nearly every night, but all I could whisper was, “Thank you.”
“C’mon, you two!” Wy yelled from out in the parking lot, and then he whooped and ran, yelling, “Hey guys!”
“There’s Garth and Marsh,” Case said, nodding that direction and it was only with the greatest reluctance that I dragged my eyes from him to see the guys toting their guitars. Case went on, “We’re plugged in tonight, so it’s a completely different sound.”
“What can I carry?” I asked, following him right out the driver’s side door, not wanting to be away from him for even a second.
“You don’t have to carry a thing,” he said, and then yelled, “Wy! Get over here!”
Wy bounded back, taking the gear that Case handed him, including a huge black backpack.
“No fiddle tonight?” I asked, disappointed.
“Not tonight,” Case said, effortlessly shouldering another enormous pack. He was so strong. He said, “Maybe you could get the tailgate though…”
I did, slamming it carefully shut, smiling at the Gotta Ride, Gotta Play emblem, while Case waited for me. Wy had already started across the blacktop towards the front door, which was framed by a pair of smaller howling coyotes. Music poured from the place, along with the scent of greasy food. Together, our hips less than a foot apart, Case and I walked across the parking lot. I fantasized again that I was his girlfriend and that he would dedicate songs to me all evening, and then afterwards…
Afterwards…
Oh God…
I stooped to pat one of the stone coyotes on the nose on the way past, something I would have done as a kid.
“Ranger,” he said and I looked up to find Case holding the door with one shoulder. He grinned and added, “I named them when I was a kid. This place has been here forever.”
“Then what’s this guy’s name?” I asked, patting the other one.
“Dancer,” he said, shaking his head, cringing a little. “It’s so original, I know…”
“I love it,” I said delightedly. “Ranger and Dancer. They go together. Who’s the big guy on the roof then?”
Case was still smiling as he answered, “You’ll have to name him. I never came up with one.”
Loaded down as he was with gear, he still held the door for me. Inside the Den it was dim and crowded, neon signs lighting up the space, strings of bare-bulb lights in oranges and yellows glowing cheerfully. We had entered through the bar, where the stage was located, but there was another dining room through a double arch on the far side of the bar. A fire roared in a stone fireplace in there.
“We’ll stash the gear and then go get a table,” Case said, leaning toward
s me to deliver these words, and I curbed the urge to pull him right back as he straightened.
Marsh and Garth had already collected Wy and after Case unloaded his gear, the five of us went to eat. I stuck near Case, determined to make sure that we were sitting across from each other.
“Not too close to the fire, it’s too hot,” Marsh complained as we all followed the server to a table. He said, “Tish, there’s something on your shirt,” and indicated with an extended index finger, not touching me, just pointing near the middle of my breasts. When I looked down, he flipped up his finger and flicked the end of my nose, then laughed.
I shoved at him, though I was laughing too, at having been so stupid as to fall for that old joke. Wy thought it was hysterical and Case flicked Marshall’s ear none too gently and said, “Jesus, you want a broken arm?”
Marsh lifted his hands and pretended to tremble, defending himself, “Tish, you fell for it!”
Garth said with all sincerity, “God, I miss hanging out with you guys.”
Case pulled out a chair for me and then claimed the one across, just as I’d been hoping. Marsh sat on my left and Wy across from him, Garth at what amounted to the head of the table.
“This would be perfect if Carter and Camille were here too,” Garth reflected. “What would it take to get them out here for good?”
“They love it back home,” I said. “So no chance there. Plus they have twenty children, so it’s not exactly easy for them to do anything.”
“I know, I was just wishing,” Garth said.
“I just talked to them last night,” Case said. He was leaning on his forearms over the table, menu caught loosely in his hands, and I was leaning towards him, in the same position. I couldn’t keep my eyes from his face; his hat kept his eyes in partial shadow, but accentuated the contrast of his soft lips and firm chin, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He looked so damn good, and so natural in his cowboy hat, even though it covered his hair.
“You did?” I asked. “I haven’t talked to Camille since I’ve been here, which is terrible.”
“She was a little upset,” Case acknowledged. “She said to tell you to call her.”
The First Law of Love Page 23