All That She Wants” by Ace of Base played over the speakers in the Piggly Wiggly, and I hummed along. As much as I wished it wasn’t, it was catchy. Grandma stopped in the middle of the aisle, I guess when she realized what the song was about. “I never…” she huffed, snatching a pack of Little Debbie Zebra Cakes from the shelf and throwing them in the buggy. “Songs used to be about not talking back and dancing shoes and now it’s all about sex and hooties.”

“Hooties?” I snagged a bag of Cheetos and opened them, shoving a handful in my mouth.

“Hooties, ain’t that what’cha call ladies of the night?”

“Hoochies, Grandma. Hoochies.”

“Well, anyhow. It’s all about sinnin’ these days.” She pushed the buggy a few feet, then glanced over at me, arching that damn eyebrow. “Speakin’ of sinnin’, you better not be a sinnin’ with the preacher’s daughter.”

Sighing, I grabbed the grocery list laying on top of her wicker purse. “Green beans. Bananas. Aqua Net.”

She grabbed the list. “Don’t distract me.”

“Grandma, I’m a grown ass man—”

She whacked me on the back of the head so hard I saw stars for a second. “Boy, how many times I gotta tell you not to swear in front of me.”

“Jesus…”

“That’s right, you better call on him!” She turned the aisle too sharp, knocking over the pyramid of BOGO paper towels. She just kept going, running over most of the paper towel rolls and getting one stuck under the wheel. She kicked it out of the way. “Dagnabit.”

“I’m glad you don’t drive.”

“I’m just giving those teenage boys that work here something to do. Now let’s see, how about some fried chicken and mashed taters on Sunday?”

“You know I love your fried chicken.”

“Mmhmm, and I bet she will too.”

“She?”

“Yep, you’re gonna bring that girl over for Sunday dinner like a right gentleman should. You ain’t gonna be a floozy with the preacher’s daughter. I’ve worked too hard on my good deeds to have you make God angry at me.”

I wanted to groan, but I loved her, so I just smiled and said I’d see what I could do.

Benji threw a pair of Jacks on the card table, his red eyebrows waggling. “Beat that, shithead.”

I burst out laughing. “You went with a pair of Jacks?” He was an idiot, what can I say?

His brow wrinkled. “What you got, Greyson?”

I laid my cards on the table, making a slow show of fanning them out with a grin. “Three Aces and a pair of Queens.”

Trevor hooted.

“Bullshit!” Benji yanked his ball cap off and tossed it on the table. “You’re cheatin’!”

“Like hell I am!” I raked the quarters across the table, piling them in front of me.

“You’ve had five hands like that tonight!”

“I’m lucky.”

“You’re a dick,” Benji grunted, then pushed his chair back and headed to the old fridge in the corner of the room. The beer bottles inside the door rattled when he yanked it open.

“Oh, come on now, Benji, it’s just five bucks.” Trevor laughed.

“It’s a pack of Camel Red cigarettes is what it is.”

I shook my head.

Benji sat back down at the table with a beer, then snatched the deck of cards and began to shuffle them. “What do you want to play next? I Got It? Five-card Stud?”

My phone rang. When I pulled it from my pocket Hannah’s name flashed over the screen. “Hey,” I said, pulling it to my ear. “What’s up?”

“You busy?”

“No.”

“Hey,” Benji said. “Thatta girl?”

Glaring, I waved my hand at him.

“Tell her to come over and bring some girls with some big ole’ titties.” He pretended to palm a set of boobs while rolling his eyes back in his head like a perv. “We can play some strip poker.”

Trevor laughed. Scowling, I pushed up from the table and headed through the back door. “You okay?” I asked when the screen door banged shut behind me.

“Yeah, I’m just…” She fell silent and I felt a frown pull at my face. “I just…” She was thinking too much. I could tell. She’d probably been sitting in her room, dwelling on shit and falling down that tunnel of panic and dread.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to talk.”

“And we can. In person.”

There was a brief pause. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Just wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

“What?”

“No questions, just trust me.”

“Okay.”

I hung up, and went straight inside to the table to grab my money.

“You leaving?” Trevor asked before tipping his beer back.

“Yeah.”

Benji’s lips curled around his big teeth. “Who’s the girl?”

I shoved the quarters in my pocket.

“Hannah Blake,” Trevor said, clapping his hand over my shoulder.

“Get outta here, shithead! Max Summer’s old flame. The brunette?” Benji nodded. “She’s got a nice rack. What you gonna do? Take her to the Catfish Cabin before you poke her?”

“What the…” I dropped my chin to my chest. “The damn Catfish Cabin? Really, Benji? You’ll get food poisoning from that shithole.”

“Nah, man, girls love the ole’ Catfish Cabin. What you gotta do is get ‘em some of those oysters, it’s like giving some of that horny goat weed shit. Makes ‘em hard up as all get out.”

“Jesus… you’re a redneck.” I shook my head on my way to the door.

“Like you ain’t?”

I waved him off. “I’ll see you guys later.” The door banged closed behind me. I had to figure out something to take Hannah’s mind off things, only problem was, there wasn’t much to do in Rockford. No movie theatres. Tipsy’s was the only bar… I glanced around, my eyes landing smack dab on Benji’s plastic patio table. “Perfect,” I muttered. I grabbed the umbrella and chucked it across the yard before snatching the table and tossing it into the bed of my truck.

The best thing to do when your life is shit: distract yourself any way you can. If there’s one thing I was good at, it was distractions. That was for damn sure. I spent two summers in summer school due to it.

Hannah was sitting on the front porch swing wearing a pair of jean shorts and a Pearl Jam t-shirt when I pulled into the drive. Before I’d even gotten out of the car, she was already halfway to my truck. Fireflies lit up all around her like some Disney film, and all I could think about was how beautiful she was. Hannah didn’t have to try to be pretty, she breathed beauty, and that was half of her appeal.

I hopped out and went to open the passenger side door. The interior light shined on her face when she stopped beside me. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks still splotchy. “Thank you,” she whispered, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.

“My pleasure.”

“I tried to call Meg, but she’d picked up a shift and…”

I pressed my finger over her warm lips. “Don’t you ever try to give me an excuse of why you called me. Besides, I’d like to think I’m the first person you called.” She climbed in with the faintest of smiles on her face.

I went around to the driver’s side, turning the radio down a little when I backed out of the drive. “So, you ever been sledding?” I asked.

“Sledding?”

“Yeah?” The truck bumped over the pothole at the end of the drive before I turned onto the dark county highway.

“I mean, I went sledding when it snowed when I was a kid—the one time it snowed.”

“Alright, well, we’re about to go sledding.”

“Sledding? In Alabama? In the middle of summer?”

“Yep.” I smiled when I glanced over and saw amusement flicker in her eyes.

Ten minutes later, we drove past the huge Alabama ‘A’ on Mr. Turner’s front lawn and turned down the dirt road that ran in front of my house, passing right by without a word and onto the old covered bridge.

Hannah grabbed onto the Oh Shit Bar as the tires clunked over the old planks.

“You don’t like bridges?”

“Not ones that are falling apart.” Her eyes squeezed shut. Her teeth doing a number on her pretty bottom lip.

“Ah, you know this thing’s haunted,” I said, slowing down a little.

“Give me a break.”

“It is.” I grinned. “Don’t tell me you never came out to Cry Baby Bridge and did the old baby powder trick?”

“Nope.” She took a breath and swallowed.

“You have to do it right at midnight—”

“Of course you do.”

“Put some baby powder on your windshield”—I mimicked dusting powder on my hand—“and sit in the middle of the bridge…”

“What? So you can fall right through the bridge and into the river? That sounds like a great idea!”

“No, you wait until the little baby footprints show up on the glass.”

I could feel her staring at me, so I turned to look at her. There was the most unamused look on her face. “That is the most unoriginal story I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s true.”

She laughed. “It’s a load of crap.”

“Sure hope the ghost didn’t hear you say that…” The tires bumped over the end of the bridge and I turned into an open space. “You know, it’s not fun if you don’t get a little freaked out.”

“Well, you have to try a little harder, you know, since I’m not twelve.”

“Okay, okay.” I laughed and drove into the middle of the old pasture that backed up to Old Man’s property. I put the truck in park before I threw the door open.

She hopped out and followed me around to the back of the truck. I lowered the tailgate, jumped into the bed, and grabbed an old ski rope from the toolbox, then dragged Benji’s patio table to the edge of the tailgate.

“What is that for?” she asked, pointing at the table.

“It’s our sled.”

“Uh-huh.” She fought a smile. “I see.”

“This is how you do Redneck Sledding.” I flipped the table over before tying the ski rope to the trailer hitch and tugging to make sure it was secure. With a grin, I stepped into the middle of the table and grabbed the ski rope handle. “Glides over grass like a dream.” I winked. It may have sounded stupid, but I didn’t care. Right then all I cared about was that she was smiling and distracted.

“Let me guess, you brought me along so you have immediate medical care when you break something, right?”

I know the smirk that worked its way over my lips just then must have been arrogant. “Nah, you’re going first.”

“Yeah, no.”

“Ladies first.”

“That’s alright.”

I dropped the rope and stepped toward her, trapping her between me and the tailgate. “Ah, so now you’re scared, huh?” I pushed a piece of hair away from her cheek.

“No.”

“It’s alright.” I leaned in close to her lips. “You’re kinda cute when you’re scared.”

“You better not get me arrested for trespassing.”

“What kinda guy do you take me for?”

“One that borrows boats…”

“Touché. But, you don’t have nothing to worry about, it’s my landlord’s land. And he’s half batshit crazy.”

Her eyes crinkled. “So, are you gonna show me your house?”

I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to tell her no. “Maybe, if you get on the sled.”

“It’s not a sled.” Rolling her eyes, she stepped around me, grabbed the rope, and plopped down, right in the middle of the upside-down table. “Are you gonna pull me or what?”

“Just let go of the rope if it’s too fast,” I said, walking to the driver’s side.

“Okay, how about you not go too fast.”

“Well, my idea and your idea of fast is probably a little different.”

“Noah!”

Laughing, I climbed inside and revved the engine. In the side mirror, I could see her shaking her head and gripping the ski rope so tight I bet her knuckles were white. “Ready?” I called out the window.

“I guess so.” She sighed. “Just don’t flip me over.”

“Aw, now, whether you flip over or not is up to you, dear…” I cranked the radio up, letting “Country Girl” echo out into the night before I pressed my foot on the gas. The rope caught, slowly dragging her behind the truck. When I saw her grinning, I picked up speed until I was doing about twenty miles per hour across the field. I turned, and the table slung out to the side. I could hear her squeal over the radio.

That night, all that mattered to me was her and that smile.