Page 47 of How You See Me
“You don’t want to stomp around to a twangy tune?”
“Since you got a pass on the rollercoaster, I get one for line dancing.”
“So, you’ll go?”
“If there’s beer . . .”
“Yay!” My heels bang against the floorboard, and I slap his shoulder in celebration. “I might get a real smile out of you tonight.”
I flash the cheesiest smile my face can make to solicit one from him. He doesn’t crack, but that’s okay. I have the feeling a few beers and a steel guitar will do the trick and finally break through that grumpy shield he wears so tightly.
Chapter 11
Hayes
We park in a public lot near the main drag in downtown Nashville. Josie didn’t want to waste time and money commuting from an RV park in a cab when we could crash right here. According to her, sleeping in a parking lot is “no different.” I’m not sure I agree. Yet, here I am, doing whatever she wants.
I changed into a black tee and jeans at a rest stop about thirty miles back. She freshened up there but waited until now to change.
I’m currently pacing outside an authentic Western-wear shop, while she plays dress-up inside. I lasted a total of two minutes in there before the sea of leather and fringe made me claustrophobic.
With the downtime, I call Mom and scan the cracked sidewalk for a rock to add to Ava’s road trip collection.
“How’s it going?” Mom asks, a knowing drawl in her voice.
She has every reason to be amused with my current situation. My history with women consists of my four sisters, a few forgettable flings, and one long committed relationship with the Corps.
“It’s . . . interesting.”
“What are the sleeping arrangements?”
“Mom,” I groan, figuring I know where this line of questioning is heading. “It’s been one night, and we’re not dating. Of course, I took the front seat.”
“Such the gentleman. Ava was excited to get your photo earlier.” She changes the topic, putting me out of my misery. “You looked happy.”
I surprise even myself when I admit, “I was.” Or as close as I can get to it these days. “How’s Ava doing?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“Hi, Sprinkles,” she chirps when she joins the call, and emotion lodges in my throat. She sounds more like herself today. It hurts in a good way. “How was the rollercoaster?”
“Awesome. You would have loved it.”
“Would I have screamed?”
“Oh, yeah. Especially when it went upside down.”
“I love that part.”
“I know.”
“Where are you now?” She stifles a yawn that creeps in on the last word.
“Nashville.”
“Is that where all the country singers live?”
“Some of them.”
