Page 45 of The Way to a Cowboy's Heart

–Julia Child–

Chapter Eight

“Guys? This isEmily,” Liam said by way of introduction as they arrived at a table in Grey’s Saloon where several other couples were already seated at a table drinking cocktails. “You’ve already met Jake, obviously. But, Em, these are some good friends of mine. This is Trey Reyes and his wife, Holly. And here’s the elusive Olivia, Jake’s wife.”

“Hello, then. So, nice to meet you all,” Emily said, shaking hands with his friends who were beaming at her from behind their cocktails.

She hadn’t expected a crowd but was secretly glad for it to take the pressure off her and Liam. And to distract her from Muriel’s phone call.

Olivia was as adorable as her husband only prettier, and she reached to give Emily a kiss on her cheek. “Jake told me all about you and how brave you were this morning. I think I would have fainted dead away on the spot at the sight of that bear so close.”

“Bear?” Holly repeated. “Oh, do tell. This sounds exciting.”

“This is a bit of a sore topic,” Liam said. “Maybe we can just get her a drink first?”

“I’d love one, to be honest,” Emily told him as they scooched into the booth beside the others. There was a band playing in the corner and a handful of people dancing on the dance floor, opposite the tables. It was, naturally, a local country band, Liam told her, but everyone’s favorite. They were playing a cover of a Morgan Wallen song and the crowd at the bar was singing along.

The cocktail waitress danced herself over to their table and took their orders. “And can I just say,” she added before heading back to the bar, “I just love your accent. I had a second cousin twice removed who went to school in England for a while,” she told her. “And when she came back home, I swear she sounded just like you. It was the funniest thing. We never let her live it down. But you’re the real deal, right?”

Emily blushed at the unwarranted attention. “Um, yes. I suppose I am. I don’t really hear it myself. But I guess I do still have an accent.”

Holly reached across the table to Emily after the waitress left. “Don’t let that bother you. Your accent is perfectly lovely. The thing about America is that we have crazy different accents wherever you go, and nobody thinks a thing about it. But someone from Boston tries talking to someone from the Louisiana bayou and they might just need a translator.”

A collective laugh went up from the table.

“True in the UK, as well,” she admitted. “But we’re really all more alike than different, aren’t we?”

Liam took her hand under the table and gave her a squeeze.

A photographer was walking around the restaurant, taking photos of couples and made it to their table.

“A photo for the memory book?” the photographer, who also sounded British said. “I take the photos for free. You can decide later if you want to purchase.”

The other couples posed and smiled for the camera and so she and Liam went along. Honestly, a keepsake of this night together might be wonderful to have. Afterward, the photographer wandered off to shoot other couples, and Emily forgot about him as the talk turned to the morning and the excitement with the bear.

Between cocktails and the meal—which was surprisingly good—Olivia and Holly amused everyone with tales of their daughters’ exploits together on the preschool playground and how the three-year-olds had hatched a plan to corner their favorite little boy behind the monkey bars to kiss him. Luckily for him, the teacher rescued him before they could fully execute their devious plan. But it was all for naught, as the little boy in question sought the girls out later and kissed them on his own. The teacher caught it in a photo which, obviously, made it to their Instagram stories.

Emily had sat dinners like this with her married friends, feeling like an outsider as they discussed their kids, their lives together, and all that came with it. In fact, she’d hosted many of those dinners. Tonight, with Liam sitting beside her though, it felt all right. Like she belonged. Which she certainly didn’t. But they welcomed her into their circle without prejudice and seemed equally invested in hearing about her life working on their exotic idea of Wall Street.

The others goaded Trey into telling the story about a case he’d investigated for a Wall Street banker’s wife, who was living part-time in Montana, and whose cheating husband turned out to be a Russian spy and how Trey’s investigation had led to an entire FBI probe and scandal.

That story felt a little close to the bone for Emily, but she said nothing about the scandal that had shut down her firm. Instead, the other couples at the table were all-in on hearing the subway story of how she and Liam had met. And the crazy meet up after. Liam told that one.

“Your supper club sounds amazing,” Olivia said. “Please, please, please invite us to one when you get back to the city?”

Liam flicked a look at her but said nothing.

“I’m afraid my supper club days are over in New York. Sadly, I’m… I have to move back to London in a couple of weeks.”

Disappointment rumbled through the table and all eyes turned to Liam.

After a beat, he got to his feet. “So, I promised you a line dance.” He offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet. “Who else is with us?”

Leave it to Liam to drag the fun back in. As a group, they joined others on the dance floor where a pretty little blonde was teaching line dance to the uninitiated. While the band took a quick break, she broke down the steps in the dance, which technically required cowboy boots—sadly lacking for her—for the boot-scoot part, but for which her own shoes sufficed perfectly well for the boogie part.

Of course, she was the only one who had no idea what she was doing, but Liam stayed with her, teaching her the steps along with the adorable dance instructor. As the band cranked up again with a cover of “Friends in Low Places,” the dance floor was suddenly crowded with people doing this amazing dance in unison. It didn’t matter if she got the steps wrong. Because they laughed through it all and, eventually, she got the hang of the rhythm of the thing. And it was fun.

Almost as fun as watching Liam dancing from behind, at the way his body moved, and the way his jeans hugged his butt and watching him just enjoy himself. The dancing seemed to liberate something in him as it did in her, as well. All thoughts of her brother and her father disappeared, and she gave herself over to the music. Soon, she was line dancing like a pro—well, that might be an exaggeration—but she felt confident and happy. She did not want this night to end.

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