THIRTEEN
There was only one clothing shop on Main Street, and it had exactly what Vivian was looking for.
“That looks lovely on you, dear,” the clerk complimented as Vivian stepped out of the single dressing room and admired herself in the full-length mirror.
“Thank you.” Vivian swished the light, white cotton, loving the way the material floated around her knees. It was the perfect dress. With the heat, she could breathe and still look pretty and fashionable.
“You know what would go great with that?” The clerk didn’t wait for her response. Turning, Vivian watched the woman walk toward a display of shoes and return with a pair of rustic brown, pre-distressed cowgirl boots with a delicate but feminine pattern.
“Boots?” Vivian asked the obvious as she reached out and accepted them. She’d never worn boots with…well, anything before. Unless they were knee-high and over a pair of skinny jeans. Otherwise, it was high heels and sandals, maybe a pair of mules or something, and they always served as the pop of color to her muted wardrobe.
“If you’re gonna live here,” the woman said with a mischievous smile as she glanced down at the royal blue heels she’d worn out that day, “then ya gotta own a pair of good boots.”
Vivian smiled at the woman. “Well, in that case, how can I say no?”
Lifting her chin proudly, she said, “You can’t! Now go try those on.”
“Oh, I didn’t even check if they’re my size,” Vivian said, flipping them over to view the imprinted number on the soles, only to find they were exactly right.
“I took the liberty of sneaking your heels out from under the curtain while you were changin’,” the woman admitted, unabashed.
“Oh, wow, um, okay.” Vivian stepped down out of her heels and pushed her bare feet into the boots one by one, surprised at how comfortable they were, then she returned to the mirror to take a look at herself.
The woman was right. “Yep, these are perfect.” Although the high heels had been pretty, now that she saw the boots and dress together, she couldn’t imagine a more perfect combination.
“Yes, they are. Do I know my stuff or what?” the woman praised herself. Vivian nodded her agreement. “I bet y’all city folk wouldn’t be caught dead in our fashion.”
Vivian instantly felt like a jerk, but when she looked back at her, she didn’t see any sign of anger or upset. The woman was just stating facts, in that way that Vivian was starting to realize people around here tended to do.
“You can say that again,” Vivian returned. “But it’s always nice to try something new.”
“So you like it?”
“I love it,” she replied earnestly. “As a matter of fact, I’ll take both.”
“Perfect! You can wear it out,” the woman asserted as she rushed into the dressing room to retrieve the clothes Vivian had worn in and proceeded to drop them all in a shopping bag. “Go ahead and pop those tags for me, hon,” she instructed, then scanned the items into the register.
After Vivian paid and exchanged thanks and other pleasantries, she grew suddenly aware of the time. She’d been gone for more than a couple of hours. Having taken a long nap, she’d left the house late, which meant it was nearing dinnertime, and she wasn’t there to help Gretta with the preparation.
“Shit,” she hissed to herself and hurried back down the street to her parked car. The Porsche stood out like a sore thumb, even against the couple of brand-new pickups. Not for the first time since she’d arrived, she felt as if she stuck out like a sore thumb. No matter what clothes she wore or friends she made, would she ever truly fit in, or would she only be playing the part…just as she had been doing her whole life.
Her sails were sagging heavily when she heard a familiar voice say, “Doin’ a little shopping, I see.”
Stopping in her tracks, Vivian pivoted on her heel and looked back to see Nash’s surprisingly friendly face as he headed up the walk toward her.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” she said, and immediately kicked herself when his expression turned quizzical and he chuckled.
“I don’t think that was the one you were lookin’ for, but good job. A little more time ‘n you’ll fit right in.”
She wasn’t so sure about that. “What are you doing here?” she asked instead, turning the topic away from herself.
“I should be askin’ you that. I live here.”
Raising her eyebrows, she said, “Here? As in right here? In this very spot.” She pointed at the ground beneath their feet.
Nash smirked. “You know what I mean, smartass.”
“So…”
“I was just takin’ a break for dinner,” he informed her.
“You’re not eating at Gretta’s table tonight?”
“It’s Tuesday,” he said as if that explained everything. “Apparently, you aren’t either?”
“I was just headed back, actually.” Gretta was going to be upset. Or worried. Or both. Vivian felt terrible as the seconds continued ticking by and she continued standing there.
“Lookin’ like that?” Nash asked.
Vivian looked down at her dress, the boots, and felt insecurity set in. “What’s wrong with the way I look?”
“Nothin’,” Nash balked, “unless Gretta’s throwing a dinner party and you’re the guest of honor. Which, by the way, wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We don’t get new people ‘round here very often.”
“A party in my honor?” Vivian said, surprised by the suggestion. Then she remembered the birthday pool party Maryanne had invited her to that she didn’t intend to attend. Oh well, she’d find an excuse later if she had to. “Better be careful there, cowboy,” she continued. “I might just start to think you like my company.”
His expression turned comically horrified. “Like your—Well, I never.” She laughed, which seemed to please him. “If I liked you, would I offer to buy you dinner tonight?”
Vivian had a ready answer on her tongue, but then she realized what he’d said and held back, unsure how to answer after all. “Um…Wait…are you…asking?”
“Do I speak English?” he asked in return, confusing her even more.
“Yes?”
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.
As they fell into a slow sway, their hips moving together and Nash holding her close while the singer talked about dying a happy man, Vivian felt goose bumps prickle her skin. He was stunning, she realized. Even more so than when she’d first spotted him on the side of the road. Now that she knew the man behind all the brooding façade, he was impossibly attractive. She’d even dare to say he had a sweet and tender side to him, which made sense. A woman would have to be crazy to marry him if he didn’t have some redeeming qualities.
Nash was holding her hand in his, clutched to his chest where his heart beat rhythmically against the sweat-soaked plaid shirt that brought out the blue in his eyes.
Looking up, Vivian couldn’t break free of his penetrating gaze that seemed to almost see straight through her. Funny how first impressions didn’t always add up. She’d thought he was a jerk, and he was, just not as much of one as she’d thought him to be. The closer she got, however, and the more she learned about him, even in his silence, the more she realized just how wrong she had been.
Nash was a good man, just as Gretta had said. And after tonight, she was afraid of how easily she could see herself falling for someone like him. Or him.
She could fall for Nash.
Looks aside, he was completely swoon-worthy.
“Do you feel it, too?” he murmured, watching her closely.
Vivian blinked. “Feel what?” She knew exactly what he meant, but she had to be sure.
“Whatever this is between us. You feel it, too.”
Vivian couldn’t form words, so she nodded mutely. Yes, she did. It was strong, the sensation a fire inside that burned bright and hot and undeniable.
“Maybe Ms. Gretta was on to something,” he suggested.
“Maybe she was,” Vivian agreed. The old woman saw more than most, that was clear, and her attempts at playing matchmaker might just be paying off. But was Vivian ready for it? Fresh out of a marriage, it didn’t seem like a great idea to jump right back into another. Especially with someone she bumped heads with and whom she hardly knew anything about.
But what if…
“Hmm…” Nash made a contemplative sound as he stared at her mouth, and when Vivian licked her lips, he leaned down and laid the gentlest kiss on them she’d ever experienced.
Lightning flashed through her veins, lighting up her insides like a fireworks show and curling her toes in her boots. She thought of her favorite movie growing up, Pretty in Pink and thought that Nash must have been practicing on watermelons, too, because he was a hell of a strong kisser.
My. God.
He must have been just as affected, too. Breathing heavily, his lips parted from hers, and he pressed their foreheads together, his eyes closed as if he was savoring the moment. Vivian was running through her own memories of her first kiss, the many she’d shared with Andrew, but they all came up short in comparison.
She’d never been so affected, never felt this way from a decidedly chaste and simple kiss before.
Nash was doing something to her that she was afraid to put a name to…because it felt too serious for too short a time.
No, Vivian couldn’t have feelings for Nash. Not the kind her heart was suggesting, proving that it really was a dumb organ that needed to be kept watch over so it didn’t get her into something too deep to dig herself out of.
Nash must have reached the same conclusion because instead of kissing her again, he pulled away, his eyes soft but hard at once.
“It’s getting late. Come on, I’ll take you back to your car.”
The high she’d been riding diminished when he dropped her hand, breaking all connection, and walked away, expecting her to follow. She did. All the way back to her car, where he told her goodnight and was on his way again, leaving her in that lonely parking lot surrounded by dark storefronts.
Starting the car, Vivian coasted down the country roads back toward Gretta’s, filled with confliction. What was she supposed to do now?