"I've had enough savory in my life," I laugh.
He does too. "Okay, okay I see that. How about a lemon drop?"
"Yes," I say. That sounds like the perfect balance, the bitter with the sweet, right?
“Okay, you're feeling it.” Holt walks me to the bar, and a bartender who knows him by name asks what he's having. “Two lemon drops, please.”
"Ooh, fancy," she says.
He tells me that he usually orders a draft beer. I nod and appreciate him drinking alongside me. When she hands us both a bright yellow drink with a long stem and a sugary rim, we walk to a corner high-top and make a toast. "To what?" I ask.
"To you," he says. "To your 21st, to your night out on the town, to your many more firsts."
I smile, clinking our glasses and taking a sip. "Oh my God, this is heaven," I say.
"And trouble," he laughs. "But not too much trouble."
I nod in agreement. "Yeah, I don't really want to drink more than one."
"Good call. Don’t want a hangover," he says. I smile. Maybe a little too brightly, a little forced. "Hey," he says, "you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. You don't even have to finish that drink."
"I know, my mom was a drinker and... "
"Hey," he says, "I get it."
"You don't get it," I push back. "My mom was an alcoholic and she kind of went on a bender and that's why I have the kids and we lost our house and she's in jail."
He takes my hands, resting his on top of mine, gently, not possessively, just carefully. “Paisley, it's all right. I'm just saying I get you. I get that things are hard and complicated and messy, and when I said I get it, I guess what I should have said is 'I hear you, I see you, and girl, speak your truth, however you want. I'm here for it.'"
I take another sip of the lemon drop – it is ridiculously delicious. "I'm not against drinking, I'm just cautious. In general, as a person in life, I'm not a risk taker."
"I understand why it would be hard to take risks after everything you've been through."
"What about you, Mr. Holt Stone? I feel like you know literally so many things about me right now, and I know nothing about you."
"I don't know half the things I want to know about you, for the record, but me? I work at a ranch with the cattle. I like to dance."
"Right," I nod my head slowly. "We've already covered that. Tell me something more, something real."
"Well, we just covered your basics too."
"Okay, so you're deflecting again."
"Okay," he laughs. "Okay, so this is like for reals, for reals?"
I nod, "Yeah. I'm not a half-way kind of girl. Remember when I told you I scare most guys off? This is kind of the reason why I don't do 'sort ofs,’ and my standards..."
He nods, "Right, they're pretty fucking high." He clears his throat, takes another sip of the drink, sets it down. Resting his elbows on the high-top, he stares right into my eyes. "My mom is suffering from early-onset dementia. Alzheimer's. She has a memory that lasts five minutes, and she has no idea who the hell I am. My brother Colt, we were twins, and my dad were out mountain climbing about three years ago and they died. So, my mom was alone and needed help and I moved home. In one fell swoop I lost my brother and my father and my mom. So, I came back and that's what I do now. I take care of her. Well, I have a nurse that helps us while I work at the ranch."
"Wait," I say, stopping him. "What did you used to do before you came home?"
"I coached college baseball; I was working my way up in that."
"Really?"
I nod. "Yeah, that's kind of my whole passion, coaching pro sports teams."
"Oh my God," she says. "That's incredible."
"Yeah, that's the past though, right? I'm here now. And my mom needs me and..."
"Wow," I say, shaking my head. "Do you..." I swallow my words, not saying them. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry for all of that."
"Hey," Holt gives me a half smile, "That's life, right? It doesn't always go how we expect."
"Right, I know about that."
"I know you do, Paisley." He holds my gaze. "I line dance for fun, what do you do?"
I laugh. "What do I do for fun? Well, I'm a singer and a songwriter."
"No shit," he says, "really?"
"Yeah, I guess you're not from around here, at least not from when I was growing up."
"Yeah, I was kind of gone when you were in high school."
"Right, well, it doesn't really matter, but when I was younger, like in high school, everyone always thought I was going to go off to Nashville."