Though she’d spoken to Vince’s mother several times on the phone, she’d only met one person from Vince’s past—only one person in the whole state of Texas who would recognize her on sight. She wasn’t worried about running into him; he lived hours north of
Galveston
and didn’t care much for cities.
“What’ll ya’ have?” the bartender, a nice-looking man with a dark-chocolate complexion, asked.
She ordered a Snakebite, intending to get him talking while he made it. Instead, he asked to see her ID, jarring her back into the present and reminding her that she wasn’t Maddie Wells anymore, but a stranger named Maddie Grey. She dug into her purse with shaking hands. The
Texas
drivers license was legitimate, issued by the state DMV—unlike the
Colorado
license she’d used to get it. Her face flushed hot. Bartenders developed an instinct about IDs. She fully expected him to know she wasn’t who the license said she was.
Her nerves clattered silently as he checked to verify she was over twenty-one. The tension seemed to disconnect her brain from her tongue. The drink was in front of her and the bartender had moved on to the next customer before the connection was reestablished.
So instead of chatting up the bartender, Maddie sat at the bar, picking the stir straw from her Snakebite into shreds and thinking about what Peggy had said.
The tension never really went away. Well, once in a while. When she held Jesse in her arms, watching him suck on his bottle with such determination. Or when some man spoke with exactly the same sort of
Texas
drawl Vince had had. Those things sometimes lulled the tension away for a few moments, but most of the time, she felt exactly the way Peggy described her—like a balloon about to burst.
If Peggy could pick up on it, so would other people, and that made her memorable. So maybe Peggy was right about how to get rid of it, too.
Ugh.
It wasn’t that she required months of dating before she’d sleep with a man. Hell, she’d have jumped into bed with Vince the first day she met him if she’d had the opportunity. He’d come up from
Texas
to work for Hewitt Oil, doing his geologist thing he’d called it. When the foreman brought Vince into the office to introduce him around, she’d shaken his hand. The moment their hands touched, an electrical spark jumped the length of her spine. The look in his eyes said he felt it, too.
If the company hadn’t sent him out to evaluate some land near
Casper
the same day, one of them would have undoubtedly invited the other out for a drink. Maddie had never doubted where that would have led. Instead, she tried talking herself out of it. What a wasted effort that had been.
Three days later, he’d walked back in, sat on the corner of her desk, and made small talk while his eyes had challenged her, invited her … consumed her.
Hewitt’s nephew hadn’t even slowed down as he walked past. “Hey, get a room on your own time. I need to see that report we’re presenting to the board before the end of the day.”
Vince’s lips had turned up in a secret sort of smile, his head tilting as though to say, “Shall we?”
Momentarily flustered, Maddie had pulled back, only to invite him for a drink just before quitting time. Within a month, they’d set up housekeeping together.
What mortal man could compete with that?
“Gimme two Snakebites, would’ja?”
Maddie froze as the voice broke into her thoughts. It was as if she’d conjured Vince straight out of her memories. The tone … the drawl … How many times had she heard Vince order his favorite drink for the two of them?
Maddie’s hands began to tremble. She fantasized sometimes about seeing Vince again—about hearing his voice, touching him even—but she knew the difference between reality and daydreams. To find him standing next to her in a hotel bar in
Galveston
would be too Twilight Zone.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the mirror over the backbar. She half expected to see Vince’s reflection there. Instead, the mirror gave back the image of a lean man with ragged, dark brown hair that just touched the collar of his faded blue work shirt. His eyes were downcast as he pulled a twenty dollar bill from his wallet.
When he looked up, eyes the color of melted chocolate met hers in the mirror. Embarrassed to be caught staring, she tightened her fingers around her glass to stop her hands from shaking and turned her head, as though looking at something down the bar.
“Thanks,” the man said in a long drawl when the bartender put his drinks in front of him. Maddie kept her eyes turned away while he waited for his change, but she watched in the mirror as he carried the drinks back to his table.
She let her breath out in a long, relieved sigh when she saw his companion was another man. Not that it mattered. She had no reason to care, she assured herself, but her eyes kept returning to the two men. Maddie still didn’t strike up a conversation with the bartender. Neither did she move on to the next hotel on her list.
The two men looked enough alike to be brothers. They sat slumped in their chairs, their butts on the edge of the seat, one leg bent at a perfect right angle, the ankle of the other leg crossing over at the knee. They watched the crowd, talking softly as though nothing important needed saying. Maddie wondered if they both had that wonderful, thick-as-honey,
East Texas
drawl.
Now that she knew she hadn’t stepped into the Twilight Zone, she wanted to hear it again. To bask in it, to close her eyes and pretend. To feed the fantasy, just a little. What was the harm in that? Probably tremendous harm, Maddie thought, but just for a while, she didn’t want to care.
Absently, she ordered another drink, forgetting about the potency that gave Yukon Jack and Roses Lime the name Snakebite. Pure alcohol, she remembered as the glass touched her lips. She sipped the drink leisurely, savoring the sweet tang of limes on her tongue, all the while watching the two men in the mirror.
One thing growing up in the hard-drinking state of
Wyoming
had taught her was how sneaky alcohol could be. How easy it was to feel fully functional on a bar stool only to find herself bouncing off the walls when negotiating the hall to the restroom.
When her glass was empty, Maddie made a trip to the ladies room. So far so good, but she still resolved to order a water back with her next drink.
She reached into her bag for her lipstick, only to find a small, flat red and black box. Maddie nearly choked. How in the world … ?
Peggy.
She must have dropped the box of condoms in her bag when she’d fished it up from beside the bed. Maddie almost threw them in the trash, but Peggy would think she’d used them. She’d probably want details. Better to give them back with a stern warning. Yeah, like Peggy would listen. She dropped them back into her bag before applying her lipstick.
When she came out of the ladies room, two empty glasses sat on the table where the men had been. Maddie scanned the room, her heart tightened in her chest. “Oh hell,” she muttered. Maybe another drink wasn’t such a good idea, not if she was going to get depressed over a man she hadn’t even met.
Damn Peggy for planting ideas in her head. Mooning over strange men, even ones with seductive drawls, wasn’t what she was here for.
She didn’t have to wonder what Vince would have thought of that. He would have been mad at her for hiding behind his memory. He’d been big on living life to the fullest, on grabbing the good things that came along and riding out the bad.
Maddie wished she could live that way, but she had serious responsibilities now.
Which reminded her she still hadn’t accomplished her mission. She liked the atmosphere of this hotel and the clientele was good—a mixture of tourists and out of town businessmen. She should at least talk to the bartender before leaving.
“One more,” she said, reclaiming her barstool. “With a water back.” The place had thinned out enough to talk with little interruption. If she liked what she heard, she’d ask for the manager’s name. Her lips parted to speak as the bartender set her refill in front of her, but the voice over her shoulder stopped her, setting her heart fluttering.
“Let me get that there drink for the lady, Pete.” Mr. East Texas Drawl stepped up to the bar. “That is, if the lady don’t mind?”
She turned her head cautiously, afraid moving too fast would blur her vision.
Mr. East Texas was watching her, waiting for a cue his offer was welcome.
Maddie cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
Oh, crap. She sounded all Marilyn Monroe breathy.
He handed the bartender a ten. Maddie expected him to pull up the next barstool. Instead, he shoved it over with his foot and leaned one elbow against the bar. “So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
Maddie laughed. It should have sounded old, trite, and corny, but nothing said in that drawl could sound anything but enchanting to her. If she narrowed her eyes, maybe she could pretend he was Vince. Her laughter lit something deep in Mr. East Texas’s dark eyes. Maddie suddenly felt warm. Sitting-in-front-of-araging-fire-on-a-cold-winter-night warm. The flutter in her heart moved into the pit of her stomach.
“Don’t tell the bartender, but I’m casing the place to see if I want his job.” Maddie said, keeping her voice conversational. The bartender’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment. He’d no doubt seen this dance often enough.
“Ah, well. Looking for employment. That’s respectable then.” Mr. East Texas nodded sagely. “Though I gotta admit, I was hoping you was here for less reputable reasons.”
“You mean like looking for a man to take me away from all this?” Maddie’s open-handed gesture included the entire bar.
“Even the best watering holes have a long tradition of that sorta thing. Why, my daddy met my mamma in a place a lot like this.”
Maddie fought to keep a grin from breaking out across her face. How long had it been since she’d engaged in light-hearted banter, never mind flirting? It seemed like eons. “Really?”
“Well, maybe there wasn’t as much brass and mirrors. Or the selection of beverages this fine establishment has. And there ain’t no straw on the floor nor fiddle player in the corner …” He looked away as though seeking a fiddle player. “And they had dancin’.” His nostrils narrowed with an indrawn breath. His eyes came back to hers. “Damn. A man oughta take a woman dancin’.”
The flutter in Maddie’s stomach moved lower.
“What kind of dancing do you do to fiddle music?”
“The spirited kind.” He let a beat pass before he continued. “But I think you’re the kinda woman a man takes slow dancin’. Someplace where there ain’t much light, so’s nobody’d see when I kissed you.”
He held her eyes, waiting for her response.
Someone down the bar hollered for Pete’s attention and he moved away. Their audience gone, Maddie swiveled on her barstool to face him straight on.
“What if I didn’t want to be kissed?” she asked, knowing her body language sent a completely different message.
“Why, ma’am …” He leaned slowly closer as he spoke. “I don’t think I’d ask first.” His lips brushed hers lightly. Just a gentle touch, as though she’d been kissed almost in passing. He pulled back, but only a couple of inches. Neither of them had closed their eyes. Maddie swallowed, trying to work up some moisture in her suddenly dry mouth.
“My daddy says sometimes it’s better to ask for forgiveness than for permission.”
“Does he?” Maddie forced out.
“Oh, yeah.” His tone was heartfelt. “And I think I may need a passel of forgivin’,” he said just before he kissed her again. The kiss was just as gentle, but he lingered this time, and they both closed their eyes. He pushed away from the bar, cupping her face between his hands. Her neck bent back as he rose to his full height. She vaguely realized he was standing between her knees, her not-too-short skirt bunched up high on her thighs.