Page 8 of The Cowboy's Country Charm

“Get the next car,” she demanded as she put on the first sneaker.

He did. By the time he’d gotten the keys into the ignition and driven the car by her, she was already in her car. After he’d parked the SUV in the overflow lot, she pulled in next to him.

He couldn’t wait to see those sneakers on her.

She bent and disappeared behind the car door for a second before stepping out.

His gaze shot to her feet, and all he could think of wasclown shoes. “You’re going to trip in them.” Laughter bubbled up, and he had to let it out.

“I’m going to be fine.” She huffed. “You wait and see.” She power walked, her strappy heels swinging in her hand.

He jogged to keep up with her. The front of the shoes were slapping against the pavement, making a funny sound reminiscent of a horse’s clip-clop.

“Can you even drive in those?” He forced himself into a chuckle rather than the guffaw that was trying to get out.

Her arms were swinging as her feet clapped out a beat. “If it wasn’t for the hot pavement, I’d go barefoot. But I can’t, so these will do.”

They reached the building, and she flung the heels at the side of the entrance. The line of cars had grown.

She sighed as she surveyed the lot. “I feel like I’m Lucy and you’re Ethel trying to pack chocolate candy on the conveyor belt.”

He guffawed, unable to hold it in anymore. Few people their age would get the reference to theI Love Lucyepisode, but he did, having grown up in a house where his mom used to watch the reruns while making lunch.

She pointed. “Get the next car. They’re multiplying faster than chocolate candies.” But she was laughing too.

It took another fifteen minutes before the line had thinned out, and he spotted her checking her watch as they headed back, having parked two more cars. “The reception is officially starting. I really need to go in and make sure everything is okay before the bride and groom arrive. Will you be okay?” She huffed alongside him.

“I will. And thanks. This time it was Kristy to the rescue.”

“I think it was you who rescued me with those sneakers.”

“We made a good team. So that drink I mentioned?”

She shook her head, but there was a smile on her face. “We’ll see. I think your sneakers may have saved my feet so that I’ll be able to go.”

“We’ll have to toast to those sneakers, then.”

Smokey’s wasn’t as busy as he’d imagined, but then it was after eleven on a Friday night. Most people who frequented Smokey’s worked on Saturday, so that could explain it.

The bar was a local hangout that celebrated ranch culture. Booths rimmed the paneled walls with benches covered in faux red leather, while a few round wooden tables and chairs dotted the planked floor between the booths and the bar. A moose head hung over the bar, and various signs announcing everything from cattle crossings to rodeos decorated the walls. In the far corner were a few older cowboys nursing some beers, but otherwise the place was quiet.

They’d driven in separate cars. Seems Kristy hadn’t found a place yet and was still commuting from Cheyenne, so she was staying at one of the hotels by the airport. He would have gladly chauffeured her, but he could appreciate her extra layer of caution since she didn’t really know him.

He hoped after tonight that would change. He glanced over the table at her as she slid into the bench seat. She had to be tired after the day she’d put in, but no one would know it by looking at her. Every hair was in place, and her blue eyes danced under the low-hanging lamp that spread its glow over the table.

She’d been clear when he’d asked her out that she wasn’t interested in a relationship. That suited him just fine. He wasn’t relationship material, even if he hankered for someone to care about and to care about him. Just wasn’t in the cards. But friends with benefits would suffice, as it had for most of his adult life. And Kristy was someone he’d like to be friends with. Smart, pretty, high energy, good work ethic. Couldn’t ask for more.

Charlene, a fixture at the honky-tonk for as long as he could remember, moseyed over, looking likeshe’dspent the evening parking cars. He guessed waiting on tables was just as tiring. “What’ll you have, my boy?” She set two glasses of water on the table and gave Kristy the once-over as she brushed some graying hairs, escapees from her ponytail, out of her eyes.

“A Yuengling.” He didn’t feel like anything stronger and was glad Charlene had enough sense not to mention his usual—a shot of Jack Daniels. He didn’t want Kristy to get the impression he was a heavy drinker.

Note to self: Moderate my drinking behavior.Air force duty came with more than a few bad habits.

“And you, honey?” It meant something that Charlene acknowledged her directly.

“A glass of chardonnay, if you have it.”

“Kendall-Jackson okay?”

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