Tobias whistled through his teeth, tapped his toes, and generally made a musical racket while he packed up his instruments at the end of a long day of recording. He tried not to rush, but he had places to be tonight, for once; namely, the dinner date with Liddie. They had a seven o’clock reservation at a white-tablecloth restaurant located in one of the larger vineyards, and seeing as it was Friday and he was in Atlanta, Tobias needed to get a move on if he wanted to make it home in time for a shower and a shave before picking up Liddie.
“You have a hot date or something?” Mick Brennan, owner of River Driver Records and builder of custom home studios, grinned at Tobias.
“Yeah, something like that. We’ll see how hot of a date it ends up being. I’m just pleased that she actually will let me take her out to dinner.” Tobias looked around the recording booth, making sure he had everything.
“This is a new gal, b’y?”
Tobias had been working with Mick for over a year, and half the time he still didn’t know what the Newfoundlander was saying. Thankfully, this time he did. He didn’t have time to listen to one of Mick’s rambling explanations today.
“New old gal. We dated when we were teenagers. Some shit went down and we lost touch for years. Now she’s back in Hemlock Creek. We’re going to see where it goes. Thirty years is a long time. Worse comes to worst, we’ll just be friends.” Tobias grabbed the handle of the rolling case. “I hate to be rude—”
Mick cackled. “Get out of here. I’ll see you Monday, say ten or so?”
“Sounds good, Mick. I might even have some new stuff for you.”
“Solo material? Oh, intriguing. Sounds like the muse has finally stopped sooking. Hmm.”
“I have no idea what you just said, but I’m leaving anyway,” Tobias remarked over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week, Brennan!”
“Best of luck to you,” Tobias heard Mick call as he headed out the door. He loaded his guitars into the back seat of his traveling vehicle, hopped in, and soon was on his way up to the mountains.
´*•.¸(*•.¸ *¸.•*´)¸.•*´
Liddie paced around the small bedroom, wringing her hands and eyeing herself in the Cheval mirror as she muttered to herself. “Maybe I should wear a skirt. But I hate skirts. I think they make me look dumpy. But this is apparently a very nice restaurant, so maybe I should stay away from trousers. But I’m more comfortable in trousers, ergo more confident, ergo will look better because I feel better.”
“Trousers, definitely.” Tally, who was sitting with Chloe on Liddie’s bed, was surrounded by every scrap of clothing Liddie owned. “But only if you have another pair besides your funeral pants. You cannot wear funeral pants on a date.”
Liddie whirled around, her eyes wild. “Tally, I have a whole forty-seven minutes before he picks me up! Where am I going to find another pair of pants besides my funeral pants?”
“You should have let Kat take you shopping, Mimi. I bet she knows all the good places.” Chloe was thumbing through her phone. “This is what you need to wear.” She held her phone up.
Liddie backed up. “Honey, you know I can’t see that when you hold it up close to me. Lordy, I think I need some new glasses.”
“No, Mom, you definitely need new glasses. You practically had to hold the menu four feet away from you last time we went to dinner.”
“That restaurant was too dark to see anything properly,” Liddie grumbled. “And the print was really, really small. And squiggly.”
Liddie snatched the phone out of Chloe’s hand. “What in the world? Chloe! That is not helpful!”
Tally crawled across the bed to peek at her daughter’s phone. She erupted into laughter but quickly schooled her face into a stern scowl. “Chloe, Mimi is not going to be wearing a see-through, bedazzled catsuit.” She considered the photo for a moment more. “Although, it is technically trousers. So . . .”
“Out! I do not need this kind of input from a pair of smart-asses. Shoo!” Liddie scooted her daughter and granddaughter out of the room.
Chloe stuck her head back in the door. “Better a smart-ass than a dumb butt,” she said before her grandmother pushed her away.
“Oh my Lord,” Liddie muttered. “This is why I have not dated in five years.”
And as she sat in the parlor of Bunny and Ace’s house, wearing her funeral pants and waiting for her date to arrive, she felt herself begin to come unglued. She didn’t necessarily think a dinner date was a bad idea, but the mere potential for things to go badly made her sick to her stomach. What if they didn’t have anything to say to each other after the night he caught her trespassing on the dock? What if they just sat there in awkward silence? That would be awful.
“Mom? Are you okay?” Tally had been cruising by the living room every five minutes or so. Liddie assumed it was to get a glimpse of Tobias, whom she hadn’t seen other than at the Hemlock Creek Tavern show.
“Yeah, honey. I’m fine.” Liddie gave her daughter what she hoped was a confident smile. “Just . . . waiting for Tobias.”
“You look great, Mom. Really pretty, even if you’re wearing funeral pants.”
Liddie’s scolding was cut off by the ringing of the doorbell.
“I’ll deal with you later, young lady,” she said as she picked up her purse. She took a deep breath and flung open the door.
Tobias had his fist raised, getting ready to knock. As soon as she opened the door, his face split into a beautiful smile, and he dropped his hand. “Liddie.”
“Toby.”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
They grinned at each other like idiots.
“You ready to go?” she asked.
He looked around her, into the house, seemingly surprised that Liddie’s uncles didn’t meet him at the door with loaded and cocked shotguns.
“Uh, sure.” He flashed another brilliant smile, his white teeth contrasting with his salt-and-pepper beard.
Liddie waved to Tally, took a deep breath, and stepped across the threshold. Right before the screen door slammed, Liddie heard her daughter yell, “Have fun, kids! Don’t forget about curfew!”
“I swear, I do not know what I’m going to do with her,” Liddie remarked with a laugh.
She was very conscious of Tobias’s big body walking by her side and his hand hovering centimeters from her back, guiding her toward a black car. She halted at the edge of the asphalt driveway.
“Where’s your truck?” Liddie craned her neck to look at him. He had always been much taller than she was, and today, when she was wearing a pair of flats so low she might as well have been barefoot, the height difference was especially noticeable.
“The truck’s seat springs are sprung, and there are no shocks. It’s a rough ride, which is fine for me, but it’s really not acceptable for anyone else. The guys don’t even ride in the truck if they can help it.” He toed a seam where the dirt met the asphalt. “Besides, I didn’t know if you would be comfortable in the truck because of . . .”
He wasn’t looking at her, just concentrating hard on something that seemed to be inside the Charger. Liddie’s stomach did a little flip-flop. The fact that he even considered the emotional impact of riding in that truck spoke volumes.
“Thank you, Toby.”
When he grasped the door handle, she laid her hand over his. Electricity zipped between them, and Liddie’s stomach did another little twist. She squeezed his hand and then stepped back, allowing him to open the car door. Of course, he helped into the car, laying a steadying hand on her elbow. More zips and zings. As she wondered if he was feeling the same things, she heard him exhale a shaky breath, and when she looked up at him, he gave her the sweetest, most uncertain smile. Before he closed the car door, he squeezed her elbow, just the tiniest bit of pressure, and winked at her. Liddie’s heart thrummed in her throat, and she felt every bit as giddy being with him now as she did all those years ago, riding in his truck, zooming down the dark dirt road.