Page 31 of Heart of Dixie
It was dangerous to find something other than Beth to miss in this town.Ah, hell.This girls’ weekend was Beth’s idea, and no matter how much I’d come to anticipate staying in and hanging out, it wasn’t a good idea for dreams to take root in either of our heads. My life revolved around the big city, big celebrities, and keeping their big egos on the straight and narrow.
The bed bounced as I popped up, bowing—or caving, rather—to Beth’s wishes. “Come on! You want to dance, we’ll dance!”
I was beginning to talk myself into the idea. It may even be fun. It was definitely far less frightening than any other thoughts wiggling their way into my mind.
The glareof the summer evening sun sliced through the windshield as we headed down Main Street toward the outskirtsof town. “So, where are we headed?” The only bar I knew in town was Bottoms Up, and it was behind us.
“A place called The Barn. It’s fairly new.” The town park was coming up on the left, dotted with families taking advantage of the evening light for barbeques, and children screaming and running wild through the playground area. Someone had climbed the water tower recently to announce that Pete loved Betsy.
Beth noticed it the same time I did and shook her head with a grimace. “Oh, man. That won’t go over well.”
“I don’t see the problem. Unless Betsy doesn’t love him back.” Beth shot me a glance with her eyebrows raised. Yes, I understood her surprise; it matched my own. Two days ago, I would have sneered. I shrugged.
Beth let it go and shook her head. “Nope, the problem’s not Betsy Mitchell. The problem’s her twin sister, Bailey. She’s Pete’s ex and you never met a vindictive B-word like that girl.
In my business, I’d met more than a fewB-words. Even wound a couple of them up just to watch their heads spin. I shrugged again. “Too bad I’ll miss the fun.”
Any interrupted questions about our destination were answered the moment we pulled into the gravel parking lot. The honky-tonk didn’t just take its name because the owner thought it was catchy. Nope. Big and boxy with a roof that soared—even painted the traditional deep red—this place had previously been . . .a barn. How resourceful.
I followed Beth inside and paused, let my eyes adjust to the dim light. There was a stage set up along the far wall of the cavernous building, empty and dark. Either it was too early for the band or we chose the wrong night for live music. Either way, a gritty tenor belted along with a slide guitar and banjo and blasted from overhead speakers. The place wasn’t packed, but the early crowd was doing its damnedest to rock the joint.
Beth led the way to the bar and I followed, quickstepping to dodge the bits of hay her boots crunched and then kicked behind her. She caught my movement and laughed. “I wish you would dress appropriately! I can’t believe you’re not wearing boots.”
I’d brought one pair of blue jeans along on this trip and I had them on, low-cut and thigh hugging with jewel encrusted back pockets. They may be called boot-cut, but I had them paired with the hottest pair of pumps I owned. I scowled, then turned away to check out the wine selection. “I don’t have boots.” It was almost the truth.
“Humph.”There was a lecture brewing but I was saved by the bartender, who thankfully appeared and gained her attention.
“Deputy! How y’all doin’ tonight?
Beth spun toward the burly guy behind the bar. “Earl! You’re back from vacation!” She clambered onto a stool to stretch across and plant a kiss on his ruddy cheek. She climbed back down. “How’s the missus? And the little one?” She held out her hand, palm up, because he was already grinning and pulling photos out from under the counter. “They’re both great. We enjoyed Florida.” He picked up a bar towel to wipe down the counter once he’d passed off the pictures. “Charlie’s growing like a weed.”
“Kids will do that when you feed them.” Beth took the photos—the whole damn stack—and shoved all but one in my hand before she drew me near. “Earl, I don’t believe you’ve met my friend, Dixie Barnes. She’s in town for a few days to bury her dad.”
And Beth, bless her heart, didn’t add a speck of sorrow in the telling. “Nice to meet you, Earl.” I waited for him to drop the towel again, then shook his hand.
“Heard about old George; first drink’s on me. What will you ladies have?”
Beth collected the pictures of Earl’s kid and set them on the bar, upside down. “Make mine something girly, would you? And virgin.” She rolled her eyes. “I came to dance, but Peterson’s got a man cold. I’m covering for him.”
Earl shook rum and something colorful together with ice for me, left out the liquor in Beth’s, poured the concoctions into footed glasses and topped them with paper umbrellas and skewers of chunked fruit. A burst of laughter came from the far side of the dance floor, and my gaze darted that way, where a rowdy group hovered around one of the pool tables.
“Molly came in a while ago. Grabbed a longneck and headed that way.” Earl pointed his chin toward the commotion as he set our drinks on red bar napkins. “She said something about research. Maybe you want to join her. I can have these taken over there for you.” He waggled a finger to call a nearby server over, but I waved her back, picked up my glass and forced a sip of what tasted like spiked Kool-Aid.
Beth picked up her drink. “No, thanks, Earl. We came to dance, but the floor’s still pretty empty. I think we’ll wander over and see what’s going on.”
Deke
The doors to the studio were open to draw in fresh air; ceiling fans buzzed as they circled slow and steady overhead. I pushed away from the broad table I used as a work desk and kneaded my fatigued eyes from under my glasses. I’d been at this project for hours today, weeks altogether, but the tweaks I needed for this new system weren’t coming together the way I hoped. The deadline for the project loomed, yet something in my calculations was off.
I leaned my head back—this crazy expensive ergonomic chair Shane insisted I buy was surprisingly comfortable—closed my eyes and let the design flow through my mind. The charts, the diagrams, all appeared then disappeared and rearranged as I searched for the missing link. The answer was there, somewhere close. I could feel it.What if—?
What if!The lightbulb flashed in my brain; I popped my eyes open and sprang forward in my seat. My fingers flew on the keyboard, pulled up a spreadsheet I hadn’t looked at in days.Hell, yes!There was my problem, and my answer, all rolled into one rookie error.
With a finger swipe, I slid that screen to the left side of the dual monitors and made the adjusting calcs, then opened CAD and made the modifications needed in the drawings there on the right-hand screen. Back and forth I went between the two, revising, assessing, testing, until at last, I uploaded the narrative document I’d been preparing since the project began and continued to write.
Some time later I saved my work and reached across the desk to flick on the lamp. Dusk had fallen while I was preoccupied, and the room had grown dim. I read back over my last few paragraphs, made a few minor edits and closed the file just as my cell phone rang beside me.Perfect timing! I picked it up and answered.
“Surprised to hear from you, Blake! I thought you and Donna had some importantthingyou were doing tonight.” He’d mentioned what it was, but that was yesterday, when my brain was so full of Dixie that my head was fuzzy and even my well thought-out lesson plans needed to be replaced with lame videos.
