by LuAnn McLane
“You have that … look.”
“I don’t have a … look.” Cat put the bottle up to her lips and took a long swig. “Wow, I’m not a huge beer drinker, but this is tasty. Kentucky Ale, huh?”
“Craft beer brewed in Lexington, Kentucky. We have it on tap over at the stadium. You’re avoiding the question.”
“What was the question?”
“What are you leaving— Wait. Did you … Did something happen between you and Jeff?”
“Yes. He rescued me,” Cat said firmly but felt a blush warm her cheeks.
“Come on, Cat—that’s not the whole story.”
Cat sliced a dismissive hand through the air and felt a twinge in her sore pinkie. “We might have had, well, like … a moment or something.”
Mia sucked in a breath. “Wait. Did you … Did you kiss him?”
“No! I mean, well—he kissed me. Or maybe we kissed by accident. I do most things by accident.” She took a drink of the beer and waved her hand through the air. “It wasn’t a big deal.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, it wasn’t a big deal to him.”
Mia grabbed a beer and then shook her head. “For the life of me, I don’t know why you don’t get that you’re gorgeous.”
Cat rolled her eyes. “That’s a stretch.” She played with her napkin.
Mia shook her head. “Granted, there’s nothing conventional about you, but that’s part of your charm. Celebrity or not, you stand out in a crowd. And I bet Jeff thinks so too. It’s just safer to assume otherwise.”
“Bad-for-you sampler,” Clint said, setting the tray down with a flourish. “Enjoy, and if there’s anything else you need just give me a wave. Now, I have a little favor to ask.”
“Name it,” Mia told him.
“See that cute girl selling shots? Her name is Tricia Riol and I hired her as a shot girl. It’s her first night and she’s nervous as hell. Would you mind buying one from her?”
“No problem,” Mia said. Cat nodded her agreement.
Mia picked up an onion ring but instead of eating it shoved it toward Cat.
“What are you doing?”
“You said it was your truth serum. So take a bite.”
“No.” Cat reluctantly put the crispy onion ring down and picked up a deep-fried pickle. After swiping it in the little cup of ranch dressing she popped it in her mouth.
“Cat, you’re willing to take a chance with your career. Maybe you need to do the same thing with your personal life.”
“Why are you pushing Jeff Greenfield so hard?” Cat asked. She looked at the onion rings with longing.
“I’m not. I just don’t want you to push something—make that someone—with potential away, that’s all.”
“Mia, I don’t think you even get it. Yes, I find everything about Jeff attractive.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Downright sexy. And I don’t just mean his looks. But I don’t think I’m his type.”
“You don’t fall for a type, Cat. You fall for a person.” Mia waved an onion ring at her. “And come on—what’s not to like about you?”
“You said it yourself. I’m … different. I just bet that Jeff goes for conventional. The all-American girl-next-door type. And as you already know my childhood was anything but conventional. Let’s put it this way. If we were in high school he wouldn’t have looked my way. I didn’t sit with the cool kids, Mia.”
“First of all, you don’t know that. Secondly, we’re not in high school.” Mia grinned. “Although those same kids sure would like to be sitting with a country music star now, wouldn’t they? Like the Toby Keith song ‘How Do You Like Me Now?’” She put her hands on her hips and wiggled so hard that her chair almost tipped over.
Cat tossed her head back and laughed. “Oh, Mia, I’ve missed you so much.”
“I know. I can’t believe you’re living here!” Mia handed another onion ring to Cat and gave her a raised-eyebrow challenge. “Okay, take a bite.”
“Okay.” Cat bit into the crunchy batter. “Oh, this is heaven.” She squirted some ketchup onto her small plate and dipped it into the deliciousness before taking another bite. “What?”
“If you thought there was a chance with Jeff, would you be willing to see where it goes?”
“Do you know something I don’t?”
“Don’t look. But he just walked in the door.”
Cat’s heart thudded as she twisted in her chair.
“I said don’t look!”
“You know full well I can’t abide by that rule.”
Mia sighed. “It’s time to find out if he has any interest.”
Cat leaned forward. “What in the world are you going to do?” she asked in a stage whisper.
“Find you a hot cowboy or baseball player to dance with. Make Jeff jealous.” Mia drummed her fingertips on the table while she looked around.
“Why do you even begin to think Jeff would get jealous of me dancing with another guy?”
“Because he immediately saw you and his gaze lingered until you turned around and he looked away. Totally a tell sign.”
“This is silly. We’re beneath high school antics. Do you think I should pass him a note and ask him to circle yes or no?”
“That would be kind of fun. Cute. Let’s do it.”
“Mia!”
“I’m just kidding. Sort of.” She snapped her fingers. “We could put George Strait’s ‘Check Yes or No’ on the jukebox. Think Jeff would get the message?”
“No! Mia, he wouldn’t get it because there’s nothing to get.”
Mia pulled a pout. “Okay, then. Let’s snag a dance partner for you. Smile at the guy over by the pinball machine. He’s been checking you out.”
“Do you have eyes in the back of your head or something?”
“I’m just a really awesome wingman. Follow my lead.”
“No, I smell like onion rings and beer.”
“It’s a bar, Cat. Everything smells like onion rings and beer. Quit being a weenie.”
“I’m not a weenie.”
“Prove it. He’s walking your way.”
“Jeff?”
“No, the cute cowboy.”
“Oh.” Cat tried not to sound disappointed. Could Mia be right? Would Jeff actually get jealous? Perhaps it was time to find out.
“Hey there, ladies. Y’all having a good time?”
“Yes,” Mia answered and gave Cat’s leg a sharp tap beneath the table.
“Sure,” Cat answered.
“My name is Devin Daniels.”
“I’m Mia and this is Cat.” Mia shook his hand and gestured toward Cat. “She just moved to Cricket Creek.”
“Well, welcome.” He gave Cat a look like he should recognize her but didn’t quite know why. She got that sometimes. Onstage she wore dramatic makeup and a variety of hairstyles. When she dressed down she wasn’t always recognized in public.
Devin tipped his cowboy hat back to get a better look. “You look familiar.”
“I’ve got one of those faces,” Cat said. He might put two and two together soon, but she wanted to remain normal for as long as she could.
“Well, it’s a very pretty face.”
“Thank you.” She knew this was where she was supposed to flirt back, but she wasn’t very good at it. Humor she knew. Flirting was still a bit of a mystery.
“Would you like to dance?”
Patient choreographers had turned easily distracted Cat into an excellent dancer and she had fun showing off. Still, she was about to decline when Mia tapped her shin harder. “I bruise easily,” she said to Mia, and Devin gave her a curious look.
“I’ll try not to step on your toes,” he promised in a cute Southern drawl and then offered his arm. “Do you know how to two-step?”
“No. Honestly, I’m lucky to one-step,” she fibbed, drawing an eye roll from Mia.
Devin laughed and Cat suddenly felt more in her element. “Well, then, we’ll just freestyle. If I’m lucky, the next one will be a slow
song.” He gave her a charming grin and she relaxed even more.
Cat didn’t want to draw attention, so she refrained from busting a move. Instead, she did a safe little shoulder bobbing and tapped her feet back and forth to one of her favorite Keith Urban songs. Halfway through Cat couldn’t resist the urge to raise her arms and snap her fingers. When Devin smiled, she stepped it up a little and added a spin move that she used onstage.
And then she spotted Jeff looking at her and her feet reacted by getting tangled up. She did a little stagger to the left and then decided to do it to the right in an effort to make it look like a grapevine dance move. Devin, bless his heart, starting doing it with her like it was a line dance. When he added a little spin, Cat did it too, a bit off balance, but she laughed when he grabbed her hands and started to spin her around with him. When she saw Jeff turn away, Cat felt a little surge of disappointment that he didn’t seem at all jealous. But then why should he? Cat tilted her head to the side and gave Devin her undivided attention.
When the song ended, George Strait started crooning “If I Know Me.” Devin pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear, “My wish just came true.”
Cat smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slow danced, and it felt really good to be in someone’s arms. Devin was tall and she fit nicely in his embrace. He smelled woodsy and masculine and when he pulled her a bit closer she didn’t protest. Her hand felt small in his big warm grasp while his other hand rested at the small of her back. Cat loved the song. Everything about the experience was pleasant and she smiled, glad that she’d decided to come out for the evening.
And then over Devin’s shoulder she saw Jeff again. Her heart started to thud and she swallowed hard. With determination she put her hand on Devin’s neck and allowed her fingers to toy with his hair. He responded by rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand. Cat found the sensation nice … pleasant … but it failed to cause a hot tingle of longing. And then it dawned on her. Dancing with Devin was enjoyable but nothing more.
And she wanted so much more… .
10
I Saw Her Standing There
JEFF TOLD HIMSELF TO QUIT WATCHING CAT AND DEVIN Daniels slow dancing, but his gaze kept wandering over to the dance floor.
“You gonna drink that beer or just hold on to it all night long,” Snake asked and then gave Jeff’s shoulder a shove. “Damn, I’m almost done with mine.”
“Oh.” Jeff looked down at the forgotten brown bottle and then tipped it up to his lips.
“So you gonna do something about it?”
“I’m drinkin’ the damned beer, Snake.”
“I mean about Cat.” He nodded his head toward the dance floor.
“The duet thing? I told you, it’s for one song. That’s it. I know you’re more open-minded, but the rest of the guys made it perfectly clear how they feel. They didn’t sign up for Cat Carson joining us. I respect that. Everyone is making personal sacrifices to make this work, and I don’t plan on screwing it up.”
“Whoa, there!” Snake shook his shaggy head. “No, man—I mean, about the fact you can’t stand watching Cat dance with another dude.”
“Oh, come on. Devin is a damned player. I don’t want to see Cat get sucked in by his bullshit.” He flicked another glance their way. “That’s all.”
“Right. Keep telling yourself that.”
“He’s a douche bag. The damned guy is all over her.” And he really didn’t like to see Cat’s fingers in the jackass’s hair.
“Dev is actually pretty legit, Jeff.”
“You defending him?” Jeff watched Dev slide a hand down to the small of her back. “If he puts his hand on her ass …”
“What will you do?” Snake grabbed another beer from the bucket and looked at him expectantly.
Jeff felt a muscle jump in his clenched jaw. “Nothin’. Let’s go shoot some pool.”
“Why don’t you just admit that you’ve got a thing for Cat? Do something about it.”
“I don’t have a thing for her like that. I just … She’s my neighbor and—”
Snake leaned his elbows against the wooden railing behind their table. “That’s a crock, so don’t even try it. I said one thing about Cat being hot and you jumped my shit. I don’t get it.” He nodded his head in Cat’s direction. “You’re both single. And I saw her looking your way.”
“You did?” Jeff asked and then felt like a lovesick fool.
“Go for it.”
Jeff took a long pull from his beer bottle. “No way. Getting involved with her could interfere with my career decisions.”
“Ah, so you’ve thought about it?”
“In an abstract way.”
“What the hell does that even mean?”
Jeff lifted one shoulder and willed himself to keep his eyes on Snake, but it didn’t work. “You know, like, in theory.”
Snake made shoveling motions. “Man, it’s getting deep in here. Are you for real right now?”
“She doesn’t even like me that … way either. All we do is kinda fight. We’d suck as a couple.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “No. No way. I’m not even going there.”
Snaked laughed. “Sorry ’bout your luck, but I’m thinking you already did go there. In theory, of course.”
“Ya know want? I just need somebody to dance with.” Jeff tore his gaze away from Cat and damned smooth-talkin’ Devin. “It’s been too long since I’ve had a girl in my arms.”
Snake shrugged. “If you say so. There’s a whole slew of hot girls here tonight and plenty of them looking your way. Or more likely, looking my way and you’re the lucky guy standing next to me.” Snake pointed a thumb at his own chest and then lifted up his arm and flexed his biceps, making the snake tattoo move. “It’s the tattoo. Chicks dig it.”
“Right.” Jeff put his empty upside down in the bucket and looked around, anywhere but the dance floor. It had been a pretty long time since he’d even approached a girl. “And the Keith Urban haircut. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Why do you have a burr up your ass?”
“It’s been a while and I don’t have that bad boy bullshit going on.” He circled his face with his finger.
“You’ve got those fucking dimples. What the hell else do you need?”
Jeff shrugged. It might be fun to be the bad boy for once instead of the nice guy with the damned dimples. “Damned if I know.” But he did know. He needed to have Cat in his arms.
“Look, it’s pretty damned easy, Jeff. We’re in a bar. You offer to buy a chick a drink or ask her to dance. Or both. Or send over a shot from Tricia, the sweet little shot girl over there.”
“You know her name?”
“Of course. Point to a woman in here and I bet I know her name. Remembering names is crucial and I’m good at it. Just one of my many talents. Use word association. Like with Tricia I said, wisha rhymes with Tricia. I wisha had a shot. And that helps me remember she is the shot girl. And imagine her name tattooed on her forehead.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s only crazy if it doesn’t work.”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Using a celebrity name or even an object that starts with the same letter works too. Test me—you know you want to.”
Jeff pointed to the bartender behind the tub of beer. “What’s her name?”
“Jodi. I think of Jodie Foster and Foster is the name of a beer so there you have it. Chicks love it when you remember their name. And she’s cute.”
“I hate to admit this, but you’re on to something.”
“I’m smarter than I look,” Snake answered with a grin. “Anyway, Jeff, you’re like a celebrity. Did you forget that tiny little detail? It’s not like you’re gonna get turned down, dude.” He gave Jeff another shove. “We started South Street Riot back in high school in order to get the chicks, remember?”
“Yeah.” Jeff chuckled. “We were like that Keith Urban and Brad Paisley song, ‘Start
a Band.’ It could have been written about us.”
“We sucked at first but it still worked. And we don’t suck anymore.”
Jeff lifted one shoulder. “I’m just rusty, I guess.” Or not interested in anybody except for Cat. No … that’s not the reason, dammit!
“You want me to show you how it’s done?”
Jeff pushed away from the ledge he was leaning on. “Hell no. I don’t need any damned pointers from you.”
“Well, now, I take that bold-ass statement as a direct challenge.” Snake raised one eyebrow. “Wanna see who can get somebody out there on the dance floor quicker? Loser gets the next round.”
Jeff tapped his bottle to Snake’s. “You’re on.”
“If you wanna get really serious, we could throw a kiss into the wager. The first guy to score a kiss gets a Fireball shot.”
Jeff was about to refuse the addition to the bet but then thought it might be the perfect incentive to get past the memory of kissing Cat. “You’re on.”
“Fine, but none of that kissing on the cheek shit. I mean a real kiss, okay?”
“Like I said, you’re on.” Jeff felt a little surge of excitement at the challenge and started to scope out the bar, but for whatever reason every girl he spotted didn’t seem like the right one to ask to dance or to buy a drink.
Or to kiss.
But he wasn’t about to let Snake win. When Jeff spotted his friend chatting up a cute girl at the bar, in true competitive spirit Jeff turned and reached for the first girl within stepping distance of the dance floor … and the last girl he should have grabbed.
“Hey!” Cat protested as she stumbled forward toward the floor. “What are you doing?”
“I’m about to dance with you.”
“I think you’re supposed to ask first.”
“Do you want to dance?” Jeff asked, but he’d already tugged her with him, so it was a moot point.
“No,” Cat said, but to Jeff’s relief she did a few stiff little dance moves. “I’m not a very good dancer.”
“Yeah, right.” Jeff inched a little bit closer. “You seemed to be doing okay with Dev.”
“You know him?”
“This is a small town. Yes, I know Dev.” He said his name as if it were some kind of disease. “We went to high school together.”