He huffed as if she exasperated him. “Come on, girl,” he said, placing a hand against her lower back and turning her around, pushing her down the sidewalk, past her car and toward his truck, which she only just noticed parked in the very last slot. “I hope you like barbeque.”
***
“I don’t think I wore the right clothes for this,” Vivian shouted over the country music. She was holding a chicken wing coated in dark-red barbeque sauce that was sweet and spicy at the same time. Thank God for the bib around her neck serving as a catchall, because everything in front of them was made for creating a mess.
“You’re right about that,” Nash said with a toothy grin before chomping down on a wing. He’d demolished at least a dozen already, and they’d both had their fill of ribs and sweet potatoes prior.
“I feel sorta guilty that I didn’t help Gretta tonight,” she leaned in and confessed.
Nash scoffed. “Don’t be. I called her while you were in the restroom earlier. She said there was no sense wasting a nice dress and to have fun and you can tell her all the gory details later.”
Vivian arched a brow. “Gory details? Does she think I’m going to kill you or something?”
“Or we’ll kill each other.” He shrugged and continued eating.
“Now there’s a possibility,” she giggled.
“Come on now,” Nash ribbed her. “You have to admit this is a lot more fun than cooking for all those sweaty guys.”
Vivian didn’t have to weigh her answer for long. “You are right about that. But I kind of like it.”
“Oh, so you like ‘women’s’ work?” he speculated. “And here I had ya pegged for one of those high-maintenance trophy wives who has someone else to do all her dirty work.”
Despite how accurate his assumption was, Vivian’s hackles rose, and she sat back in her chair, wiping her fingers clean on a napkin. The Nash she knew and most certainly did not love had returned, and she had lost her appetite.
“It’s getting late,” she announced, her intention clear.
Nash’s amusement evaporated in a blink. “Hey, I didn’t mean to offend you. Really,” he insisted when she glared at him. “I was just running my mouth. I don’t always pay attention to what comes out of it, or how. It’s my one and only flaw.” He smirked, waiting for her to do the same.
It took a moment, but those dancing blue eyes and that handsome face did a number on her resolve, and Vivian eventually softened again, deciding to let it go for one night. “Just one, huh?”
“Yes, why?” he asked, eying her suspiciously. He knew what was coming, but he didn’t try to stop her.
“I’ve counted at least a dozen,” she elaborated, which was obviously exaggerated, but in her estimation, probably not by much.
“You have not!” Nash looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. “I am perfect in every way. Just as Ms. Gretta… On second thought,” he amended, “don’t ask her. She lies.”
Vivian burst out laughing. “She does not! That woman shoots straighter than an arrow.”
He contemplated this with narrowed eyes as he drank his beer. “You’re right,” he finally said, setting his glass aside. “She’s a good egg. You can’t find one better these days.”
Sadly, she’d bet he was right. Honesty, loyalty…those things were so few and far between. “I hope she’s okay,” Vivian commented, thinking about her episode and the doctor’s visit that followed.
Nash didn’t have to ask to know what she was referring to. “Me too, but she’s a stubborn old bat. Nothing like a little angina is going to take her down though.”
“I feel like I don’t have a right to worry,” Vivian admitted, “being that I only just met her and you’ve known her probably your whole life.”
“Not my whole life,” Nash clarified, “but pretty damn close. She was there for all the important milestones.” His gaze turned distant, reflecting on memories that Vivian could only guess at.
The urge to ask him about his wife was dancing on the edge of her tongue when he snapped out of it, and his face lit up. “This is my song.” He jumped down off the high chair and held out his hand. “Come along, little lady. It’s time you learned how to dance the cowboy way.”
Vivian slipped her hand into his without hesitation, even though she wasn’t the slightest bit confident in her ability to do what looked like complicated footwork by the others out on the floor.
The song, which was most definitely country, was more pleasing to her ear than she’d expected though. She’d never considered herself a lover of country music, but she’d never really listened to it either. The song playing spoke of having dirt on the guy’s boots, and its upbeat sound gave her an energetic, cheerful feeling that she carried out with her onto the dance floor.
Nash wore a smile ear to ear, and those baby blues shone from under the brim of his hat as he pulled her along with him and spun her into his arms. They rocked together at a fast pace, his footwork much more knowledgeable than hers, but Vivian did her best to keep up, and every time she stepped on his toes with her new boots, they laughed together.
Vivian lost track of time out on that floor, and maybe a bit of her senses, too. Under the warm lights, the music, and the fun, Nash wasn’t the tough cowboy with the chip on his shoulder. He was just a man who had a love for life, even when it didn’t go his way.