Page 44 of Wild, Wild Cowboy

HANNAH

There was live music playing when we entered the bar, a country tune that we had heard on the radio five times at least. I sang the words under my breath, and then I caught Zack doing the same thing.

We both laughed and then he said, “Booth or bar?”

I looked around. Half the room was tables and booths. The other half was open space for dancing. Stretching between the two was the bar, encircled by red-cushioned bar stools.

“Booth,” I said.

No one would notice me or my crop top there. I wouldn’t get to people watch, though. If I had been in my regular clothes, I would have chosen the bar. Someone might have looked at me funny, or asked if I was Amish, but I never cared about that.

So why did I care now?

They were still living rent-free inside my head. Their rules, their beliefs, their morals. I didn’t agree with any of it, but here I was, letting them dictate my choices all these years later.

“Bar,” I said.

We claimed two stools next to each other. A man on my left gave me a friendly smile and I returned it politely before turning away.

“Two tequila shots,” Zack told the bartender, then bumped his shoulder against mine. “For courage.”

“I’ve never done a shot,” I admitted as the bartender placed the clear liquid in front of me. Not for any particular reason. It just never came up. I studied too much to party in college, and when I went to bars or dinners with friends, no one ever did shots.

“The idea is to get it down in one swallow, but if you can’t manage it, just drink it like you would anything else.” He tossed his back to demonstrate. It looked smooth and easy and…sexual in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But then, everything Zack did looked sexual. The man was made for sin.

“All right.” I eyed the shot glass. It really wasn’t all that much. “I can do that.”

I brought it to my lips, paused, then tilted my head back and opened my mouth. It took two swallows, and lord, did it burn, but when I slammed my glass down on the bar, I looked up to see Zack grinning at me.

“How’d that feel?” he asked.

I considered. “Warm,” I said.

He laughed. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out, frowned at the screen, and looked at me. “It’s my dad. Are you okay here for a minute if I take it outside? I’ll keep it short.”

“I’m okay,” I assured him.

He squeezed my shoulder and disappeared into the throng.

“You and your boyfriend from out of town?” the man next to me asked.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said automatically, like that was the important part, and dodged the question of where we were from.

I loved eavesdropping on conversations and imagining the lives of strangers but actually talking to people I didn’t know made me nervous. Another residual gift from my childhood. It had been drilled into us that strangers were very bad things. Living with Jeremiah hadn’t dispelled me of that notion.

But Zack would be back any second. How much trouble could I really get into simply by being nice?

“It’s my first time in Montana,” I offered. “You have a beautiful state.”

He grinned. “Thank you kindly.” He told me his name and I promptly forgot it. “I see you tapping your foot there. How about a dance?”

I looked to where people were laughing and stomping in rows. How was it they all knew the moves? Did they learn through osmosis or something? “I don’t know this one.”

“That doesn’t matter. It’s easy. You’ll catch on quick.” He signaled the bartender. “Two shots of tequila.” The bartender poured the shots, and he lifted his to his lips. “I don’t know if this will help you learn the steps, but it will make it more fun.”

The tequila burned less this time.

He helped me off my barstool and plopped his cowboy hat on my head. “Let’s go make a cowgirl out of you, sugar.”

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