by M. E. Carter
“I’ve been to my fair share of college football games.”
“Really?” Jack’s interest is piqued. “You ever been to a Vikings game?”
I nod. “A couple. It’s been years, though. My best friend used to go to school there, so he would get an extra ticket sometimes.”
Jack makes a slow non-committal nod, like he approves of my answer. “You ever play?”
“Nah. I grew up on a farm. I was more of a rodeo rat. My sport of choice was always bronc riding, not tossing the pigskin.”
A low whistle sounds from between Jack’s lips. “You’re a real life bucking bronco rider. Like that movie Eight Seconds.”
I grimace. “That was a shitty movie about bull riding, but I suppose you could compare it.”
“That’s kind of hard core, man,” Jack says enthusiastically. “Trying to stay on a horse like that and getting tossed in the air like you’re a ragdoll, without any pads. I’m impressed.”
“I guess it’s kind of impressive. I used to love feeling the sheer power of the animal underneath me, squeezing my thighs with all my might so I didn’t get thrown. And trying to keep good posture to not lose points.”
“You ever get stepped on?”
“Nope.” I sit back, relaxing into the conversation. “Hell no. That’s the first thing you learn when you try to tame a bronco. The minute you hit the ground, you damn sure better get up and run for your life.”
“Hi, Mr. Ace.”
Oli is standing against the wall giving me a shy wave. He’s wearing pajama pants and his hair is dripping onto his shirtless chest. I assume he’s just gotten out of the shower. He seems awfully subdued, but I guess that’s because we’re not in our normal element, so he isn’t quite sure how to respond to my sitting here.
“Hi, Oli.” I don’t get up. I don’t want to accidentally get into his personal space. He needs to get comfortable with me here first, since social cues aren’t his specialty. I don’t want to accidentally agitate him.
“Oli, you know you’re not supposed to come out here without a shirt on,” Jack reprimands.
Oli looks away, clearly not happy he’s been called out. “But I don’t have one.”
“Now Oli, I know that’s not true. You have a lot of shirts in your room, probably in your drawers. You just need to go find one.”
“They’re all dirty.”
Jack doesn’t even pause. “Well then I guess you better get all your dirty clothes and put them in the washing machine.”
Oli smirks, knowing he’s been caught in a lie. The inappropriate effect is something I see all the time. Smiling when you get caught. Laughing when you’re in trouble. In some ways, it always makes it easier to figure out when you’re not getting the whole truth.
“That’s what I thought,” Jack says. “Now that we’ve established you have a clean shirt in your room, tell me, did you wash with soap?”
Oli’s eyes widen, this time getting agitated. “Don’t talk about my business in front of people.”
Jack doesn’t back down. “Don’t worry about Ace. He takes showers just like you and I do. And he uses soap too. Please answer me. Did you?”
Oli looks up at me sheepishly, and I nod. “It’s true. I took a shower before I came over. Even washed my butt crack.”
That makes Oli laugh, which means he’s relaxing around me. “Yes, I washed with soap, Uncle Jack.”
“Did you wash your pits?”
He laughs some more like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. Lifting his arms up, he says, “Wanna smell?”
Jack throws his hands up in front of him. “No, that’s okay. I’m good. Did you wash your butt crack?”
Oli blushes but keeps laughing. “Yes.”
“And your squirrel food?”
I furrow my brows, thinking. It takes me a second to figure out it must be an inside joke about washing his private bits. But now Oli is full on belly laughing.
“Yes, Uncle Jack! I washed everything!”
“Okay then. Go put a shirt on, and you can come back out here.”
Oli complies and turns around, heading back down the same hall he came from. I know it’s not my place to be happy about the exchange that just happened, but I can’t help appreciating Jack handles him gently. Extended family can have a hard time knowing how to treat disabled family members. I know my parents use to complain about that, and I like knowing Greer isn’t having a similar experience.
I don’t say any of that out load, though. Instead I say, “Squirrel food?”
Jack’s eyes flash with amusement. “His mother hates it when I call it that. Says it gives him all kinds of ideas for inappropriate slap stick jokes.”
“That’s why you keep doing it?” I say with a chuckle.
Jack shrugs. “She’s my baby sister. It’ll never not be my job to torture her in some way.”
“Torture who in what way?” Greer asks as she saunters back into the room.
My breathing hitches for a second when it finally registers how good she looks tonight. Long, blonde waves falling over her shoulders, with just enough skin peeking out to let me know her flowing white top is off the shoulder with some sort of frilly thing underneath so she doesn’t show too much. Dark blue skinny jeans and, of course, those gently scuffed boots.
Good lord, she’s like a fucking wet dream.
“Oh nothing.” Jack keeps his eyes glued to the TV. “Just chatting about how much fun Oli and I are going to have.”
She puts her hands on her hips and glares at him. “Do. Not. Watch that stupid Tommy Boy movie again.”
“Why not?” Jack complains. “It was a bonding moment for uncle and child!”
“Your bonding moment turned into me spending weeks trying to get him out of the habit of yelling ‘Holy Schnike’ over everything!”
Jack laughs while I stifle my own. “That was awesome.”
“Jack!” she yells.
“Okay, okay. We won’t watch that. We’ll find something else to do.”
I’m not sure I believe him, and I don’t think Greer does either, judging by her narrowed eyes and arms crossed over her chest. “I’m gonna have Julie keep an eye on you.”
He gapes at her for a second and finally relents, shifting on the couch. “Such a buzzkill.”
“Mom, are you leaving?” Oli asks coming back out of his room, this time with a shirt on. It doesn’t do much to cover up his pot belly, though, being that it’s about two sizes too small.
“I am.” She puts her arms around him and pulls him in for a hug. “Mr. Ace and I are going to go out for a little bit. But I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?” He snuggles in more, a smile on his face. Such a mama’s boy.
“Actually, I don’t know. I’m just along for the ride.”
Standing, I throw my two cents in. “I was going to take her to go dancing, Oli. Think she’d like that?”
“Oh yeah,” he says. “She dances around here all the time. It’s very embarrassing.”
I chuckle. “Well then, I guess I better get her in the middle of a dance floor with a bunch of people, so no one can see her through the crowd. How about that?”
“Good idea.”
Greer kisses him on the top of the head and we say our goodbyes.
“Julie, I’m leaving,” she calls down the hall on the way to the front door. “Keep an eye on your uncle.”
“Okay!” is the only response we hear coming from the other room, except for Jack yelling, “Hey!”
As soon as the door closes behind us she turns to me. “I am so sorry about my brother. He is like a forty-something-year-old teenager.”
“He was fine,” I reassure her, as we walk to my truck. “Kind of enjoyed talking to him. He seems like a fun guy.”
She snorts a laugh. “Fun is not how I’d describe him. Annoying would be a better description. I’m glad we’re finally in Texas. It’s good being around family, and my kids really need him. But when he gets in one of his ornery m
oods, there is no telling what is going to come out of his mouth.”
Opening the door of my truck, I help her climb in, and she settles in while I make my way around the front, taking a few seconds to tamper down my excitement. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a real date. Not for any other reason than I never met anyone I was interested in enough to leave my normal routine for a few hours away. I hope she enjoys what I have planned.
Once I’m situated beside her and we drive away, the conversation continues to flow.
“Did I hear you tell Jack that you were a bronco rider?”
“Sure was.” I turn to smile at her while simultaneously trying to keep my eyes on the road. “I wasn’t the best, but I held my own.”
“Do you do rodeos or something?”
“No. When I was in high school I kind of wanted to, but I wanted to go to college and get away from the farm more. There’s not a lot of training time available when you’re studying for a degree too. Not to mention there’re no facilities when you’re inside city limits. I did get close once, though. I missed making the circuit by half a second and two points. But it turned out all right. The farther I got into my degree, the more frat parties and tailgating became important.”
“Why did you want to get away from the farm?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I think I wanted to find my own way, ya know? Like it was always expected I would come home and take over the business, but I had too much I wanted to do first. Funny how life has other plans.”
“Yeah. Nothing ever turns out the way you think it will.”
I pause for a second, taking in her words. She really does understand what it means to not end up with the life you expected. But she also seems to make the best of it regardless. I like that.
We sit quietly for a few minutes, but the silence drives me crazy. It makes me feel like I’m being a terrible date.
“Are you okay with going dancing? Do we need to get something to eat first?” I blurt out, more to fill the silence than anything.
“No, I’m good. I had to feed Oli, so I ate with him. Dancing sounds great. I haven’t been in so many years I forgot how much I enjoyed it until you mentioned where we’re going.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
She shrugs. “It’s hard finding a babysitter for a seventeen-year-old boy. But now that Jack is close by, I’m hoping to venture out more and enjoy myself.”
“I think it’s great he’s so good with the kids. And their father is okay with you guys living here now?”
She snorts humorlessly. “He doesn’t have a choice. He’s in Leavenworth for the next fifteen years, seven if he has good behavior. So no, I’m not at all concerned about what he thinks.”
I pause, trying to gauge her mood when she shares this part of her life. I knew her ex was in prison, but I’ve never asked and she’s never shared. Somehow, it seems personal even if she wasn’t the one at fault. And considering this is our first date, I don’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. She doesn’t say anything else about it, so I don’t push.
Instead, we continue to chat about tamer things like the farm and her job and her daughter, Julie, who she seems to worry about a lot. Not because there’s anything wrong with her, but because she’s the child without disabilities. I get that. I was the Julie in my own house.
Before I know it, we’re pulling into the parking lot of Ranch Road Dance Hall.
“Is this it?” she asks, leaning forward to see more clearly.
It’s a small building from the outside. Almost looks like a shack. But the parking lot is packed and every time the door opens, we can see how crowded it is on the inside.
“I promise it’s bigger than it seems once you get inside.”
She smiles at me. “It looks like fun.”
“Well then, let’s go.”
We jump out of the truck and I lace her fingers through mine as we walk toward the door, country music blaring every time it opens, the beat pulsing through me. Or maybe that’s just the hammering of my own excited heart.
I’m excited to explore the dance hall. This kind of dive is right up my alley. I love hole-in-the-wall places like this, where you can’t tell from the outside that it’s the best local haunt in town.
The door opens, confirming everything I was expecting—loud, country music played by a band of locals, a bar with nothing but beer and high-end whiskey, and a dance floor half the size of my whole house. It’s perfect.
Ace leans into me so I can hear him over the music. “Do you wanna get a drink?” he yells.
I smile and shake my head. “I wanna dance.”
A wide grin crosses his face and he takes my hand, leading me through the crowd to the dance floor.
He finds us a place and pulls me into his arms, which I don’t mind at all. It feels good being up next to him and his broad shoulders and solid chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this close to a man. But it’s not just being this close to the opposite sex. It’s being close to Ace.
I can’t describe it, but it’s like we fit together like a puzzle. Not just physically. We seem to align with our ideals and priorities. Never mind the fact that we understand each other for things like losing our parents too early or how important family is.
Taking my hand in his, we begin our two-step in time to the music. Or at least attempt to. Only a few steps in, I crash into the couple behind us.
Ace heeds the man I’ve run into and mouths “Sorry.”
The man gives us a friendly nod and dances away. I laugh when Ace gives me a sheepish look and says, “Oops.” But pretty soon, we find our rhythm.
Quick, quick, slow… slow…
Quick, quick, slow… slow…
It’s not the kind of two-stepping I’ve done before. There are a few more steps involved, but it sure is fun. I’m not sure how many songs go by before he’s adding a spin.
It feels good to let him take charge, follow his lead and not have to think about where we’re going or what obstacles are in the way. It’s just… freeing. Like I don’t have a care in the world. Like no matter where he leads me, I’ll follow because he’ll make sure I won’t run into anyone.
Well, not again.
We dance for I don’t know how long before I have to lift my hair up and fan my neck, because I’m sticky with sweat. Ace wipes the droplets off his brow with his sleeve, so I know he’s feeling the same way.
“You ready for that drink yet?” he asks, still beaming from how much fun we’re having.
I nod and he laces our fingers together as we walk off the dance floor. I gesture that I’m going to grab the small empty table that just opened up. He nods and heads to the bar.
The music is infectious, and I find myself tapping my toe in time with the beat while I wait. Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so. That couple we first ran into is still going. They’re something else.
They have to be in their fifties, but boy can they command a dance floor. They’re dressed in matching plaid shirts, blue jeans, and boots, topped off with cowboy hats that seem to stay on no matter how fast they spin. And the way they move together, it’s like they can read each other’s minds. You can tell they’re not just partners on the dance floor, but in life too.
Ace places a tray in front of me, capturing my attention. Two beer bottles, a basket of chips and two small bowls, one salsa and the other guacamole, sit on top.
“I know you said you already ate, but I figured after all the calories we burned off, you might be hungry again.”
I love that he’s thoughtful. Especially since I love a good guacamole. “Thank you. You’re right. I worked up a bit of an appetite.” Grabbing a chip, I dip it and take a bite. I like thinking guacamole counts towards my vegetable intake. Even if avocados are technically fruit.
“I hope beer is okay,” he says as he unloads all our goodies and pushes the tray to the side.
“Yeah, I think it is. What kind is this one?” I inspect the label. �
��Is this a local brew?”
He chuckles. “That’s Shiner Bock. It’s a staple of Texas.”
I take a swig, making my assessment. “Not bad.”
“It’s even better like this. May I?” He holds up a lime wedge, and I nod giving him permission. First, he squeezes the juice inside the beer, then he pushes the wedge down inside the bottle as well. “Now try it.”
I do, and he’s right. The addition of the citrus gives the beer a whole different flavor. I nod my appreciation. “I like it.”
“Now you’re truly a Texas woman.”
I laugh and keep munching while we watch the dance floor. The band finally decides to take a break, making it much easier to talk over the lower volume of recorded music.
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Um,” I clasp my hands in front of me and lean on the table, staring up as I do the math in my head. “I left, gosh, what was it, six years ago? Our divorce didn’t take that long. I guess I’ve been divorced about five years.”
“Wait, five years?” He smirks at me. “You haven’t been on a date in the last five years?”
I shrug because dating is hard. And it sucks. People don’t tell you that part when you’re getting divorced.
“I’ve tried, but I’m not a dating kind of girl. I’m a relationship girl. It’s different. There’s no online website for that. All the dating sites seem to be for booty calls.”
“That’s weird because Pedro met Brittany on an online dating site.”
“How long ago?”
“Gosh, they’ve been together for close to ten years.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’ve found. The people who met their spouse online, it was like ten years ago. All the decent people are gone. Now it’s a meat market for those wanting random hook ups. Or the crazy ones who were the reason they’re divorced in the first place.”
“Oh, come on. Surely it’s not that bad.”
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m on a date here with you instead of in a relationship with someone else, aren’t I?”
He laughs, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. I can’t help but wonder why the sound seems different somehow—sexier than when other men laugh. Is it because of his job? Like working outdoors gives him an abundance of testosterone or something? I’ve always seemed to date white-collar men. This is the first time I’ve gone on a date with someone who’s a hard-working guy for the sake of working to live.