Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
The moment I pushed the heavy door open on the diner, it felt as if I’d stepped back to an era more familiar with my grandparents than me.
Movement from the corner of my eye drew my attention past the bar to where I noticed a pretty, raven-haired girl. She didn’t look dressed for the weather, in her tight denim jeans, tiny, white tank top, and a plaid flannel shirt tied above her bare midriff.
My gaze dropped to her feet and became transfixed on the pair of ruby-red cowboy boots she wore, as her quick-footed dance moves scuffed and shuffled smoothly across the wooden bar floor. The dance she was doing was one I knew all too well.
It was the only line dance I could remember every step to. Not only that, but the song triggered fond memories of the warm, happy feelings I’d had the last time I had danced to it. Apart from that whenever I heard the song, it reminded me of the beautiful cowgirl I’d danced to it with.
From where I stood, I could only see the woman’s hour-glass figure from behind but boy she had some sexily slow, hypnotic moves. It was only when I noticed a phone on a tripod with a ring light on around it, that I realized she was recording herself.
It had always felt weird that whenever I heard the song “Boot Scooting Boogie” by Brooks and Dunn, that dance played out inside my head. But seeing how the girl’s hips gyrated to the rhythm I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“Sit anywhere, I’ll be right with you,” the bartender called out to us, tipping his chin toward the diner section of the establishment.
“Yeah … and make yourself comfortable because you ain’t going anywhere else tonight,” Ches grumbled, rubbing in the fact he’d been right to protest about our trip down the mountain again.
“Alright. What do you want me to say? You were right? There, I said it. Now shut the fuck up and stop whining.” I muttered, as I slid into the booth seat near the door, my eyes still on the pretty girl dancing.
Seconds later the bartender turned up and cracked me a smile. “Hey, guys, my name is Clay, and I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you something to drink while you figure out what you want to eat?”
My smile in response morphed into a grin when I realized the lack of recognition in the bartender’s innocent expression.
“Ginger beer soda and a double Jamison’s whiskey on the rocks chaser for me,” I mumbled. “Ches?” I asked, my gaze drawn back to the girl dancing again.
“Is there a bed and breakfast or hotel in town? We’re up on the mountain and we just made it down here before the white out,” I heard him ask.
“Not at this time of the year. Our one hotel is seasonal, and Marjory who does the bed and breakfast has gone to visit her retired sister in Florida for the winter,” he replied.
“Shit. Know of anyone with spare beds for the night?” he asked, sounding desperate.
As for me, I could have cared less. The guy serving us didn’t look like the type to eject us at closing time with nowhere to go.
And besides we weren’t that famous that we couldn’t remember plenty of other times when we’d crashed out on a barroom floor.
I glanced back toward the bartender in time to see him shrug. “I got a pull-out bed and a couch, in my office out back,” he offered with a raised brow.
“You’d put us up, just like that?” Ches mumbled, sounding grateful.
“Sure. This is Montana. Nothing for miles in any direction until the next watering hole. So… we do what we do. It wouldn’t be the first time out-of-towners got caught short with the weather.”
“In that case, we’d be grateful for your hospitality because it looks like we’re here for the night,” Ches muttered, sounding resigned. “Alright, since I’m not driving, I’ll take bourbon, double—neat, and keep ‘em coming,” he revised.