15
Downtown Nashville blinked and flashed like a crayon box of neon colors. Emma scuffed the sidewalk in borrowed western boots and Linda’s blingy straw cowboy hat. She and Linda blended in with all the Saturday night cowgirls on the main honky-tonk street.
Wade and Mike walked a few steps ahead in their jeans, boots, and jackets. Brilliant vertical signs silhouetted their bodies. Wade used his cane in the crowd of people. Caution was justified with the selfie-takers and clueless sightseers stopped in the middle of the rush. She would have been a lone clueless sightseer if Linda hadn’t invited her at breakfast to a family night out on the town. Emma wasn’t family, but the Donovens included her like a long-lost cousin. She wouldn’t let her mind wander to thoughts of a date night with her handsome boss, even though Wade had taken her feelings on a tilt-o-whirl ride.
Her feelings of gratitude were morphing into more than a crush. She had to rein in her half-in-love heart. Wade would go back to running the company and making service calls soon. Her life and career were stuck in limbo land. In a few weeks, she would leave Tennessee. That is, if her plans stayed the same. What if they changed? She couldn’t dwell on staying. Not with cowboy Wade moseying in front of her.
“Some up-and-comers were discovered here.” Linda pointed to the corner restaurant. The twang of an electric guitar and the base beat of drums echoed from the three-story eatery.
Emma breathed in the aroma of grilling meat. Her stomach did a happy dance. She had skipped lunch after Linda’s celebration breakfast. The undercurrent of music and microphone noise meant she didn’t have to discuss drive times and overlapping appointments with Wade. Crossing too far over the line into his personal life would add to her emerging feelings. She could keep her heart at a distance by chatting with his mom.
Mike opened the door to the lively restaurant. Red neon advertising beckoned them inside. The smell of barbecue sauce had her volunteering to dive into the vat.
“Is downtown like living in a video game every night?” She stepped next to Mike at the hostess stand and unbuttoned her fringed leather jacket. Another gem from Linda’s closet that made her a country music loving imposter. The forty-five-degree weather constituted a heat wave to her winter-hardened bones, and she was pretty sure she had never purchased a coat with leather tassels.
“Pretty much.” Wade’s deep voice cut through the conversations of the patron-filled room. “I don’t come down here that often because of the crowds. The wait times get long.”
His comment gave her comfort. Part of her didn’t like the image of Wade surrounded by flirty cowgirls. Were flashy women his type? Not that she had any claim to him.
“This place has the best ribs.” Linda rubbed her hands together and exuded enough excitement for the four of them. “There’s a small dance floor in front of the artists. Line dancing gets popular later on.”
“We have church tomorrow.” Wade scowled at his mom’s suggestion. “I’m not sure we’ll be here for the dancing.”
Linda made a face at her son. “I wasn’t talking about you.” She rested a hand on her flower-accented western hat and clicked her boots as if she was ready to start the party.
Emma stifled a laugh. After all the caregiving Linda had done, she deserved to let loose. God had restored Wade’s health, and that was a huge blessing.
“They have our table.” Mike motioned for everyone to follow the hostess who, like a third of the crowd, donned a blue and silver football jersey.
Wade leaned down, his mouth at the rim of Emma’s hat. “Saved by a reservation.”
Her boss could save her anytime, especially if he used that husky, baritone voice. She grinned at his exasperated expression. Would he even be interacting with her in another week once he received a doctor’s release and recaptured his head honcho status? He’d be out on service calls helping customers. Her excitement dimmed. She’d hardly see him.
A singer explained the background to his upcoming song.
Emma sat at their table which was a few feet from the half-moon, faux-wood dance floor. The strum of the singer’s guitar did little to quiet the talk of patrons. Conversing with the Donovens would be difficult as long as the musician played. Some distance and a musical diversion would keep her mind off of Wade. Yeah, right. Her eyes were like homing pigeons to his good looks.
She would survive this night and guard her heart. Ribs were one of her favorite foods. The Donovens were one of her favorite families. Nashville was fast becoming a favorite city. She’d enjoy the barbecue and the Nashville experience and tamp down any thoughts of what it would be like to date her boss. If Linda wanted to line dance, then Emma would grab her hand, forget her worries, and leave the Donoven men with their truffle fries.
~*~
Wade knew this was a bad idea. When his mom texted about taking Emma to dinner downtown, he should have texted that his leg hurt, but that would have been a lie. Emma’s therapy and constant encouragement had him walking almost as good as new. And she was a quick learner, managing the office well, if not better, than Fran. Emma had a way of guiding customers who couldn’t make up their minds, and she was even cheery to those who changed their appointments. The article had increased their Saturday call volume with no complaints from Emma. How could he begrudge her legendary barbecue and some fun?
He tried to keep the evening professional by walking with his dad and taking the seat diagonal from Emma. He didn’t need to sit next to her like they were on a real date. If he put his arm on the back of her chair, people would think they were a couple. Nothing romantic was going on. This was only a family meal. He’d keep that excuse on constant replay.
Emma gestured with her hands as she chatted with his mom. The decibel meter on the band erased all hopes of hearing any conversation. A guy in a brown cowboy hat stared at Emma from across the dance floor. He appeared to enjoy her elaborate hand gestures. His grin would make one believe he heard everything Emma said. Why did Emma have to look so darn cute in her borrowed cowgirl get up. That jacket was a bit flashy on his mom but it fit Emma’s outgoing personality. He should have insisted Emma wear a Titletown cap. The green and gold would repel locals. He stifled a laugh. Nah. Every single guy would look twice at his office manager even if she donned Green Bay’s colors.
He sipped his drink, which went down like dirt, and he clapped when the song ended. His hand hadn’t made a claw since Emma showed him her pressure techniques. If his dad and Cole had listened to him and let Emma find a job elsewhere, he wouldn’t have to fight these confusing feelings. Feelings that were probably more gratitude and thankfulness for helping his family out in a pinch than they were genuine interest. Would the doctor be able to see him before Wednesday? The sooner he got back in a service van the better. He bit into the last pork rib on his plate and let the peppery sauce burn a hole in his tongue.
The band began playing a popular country slow song.
His mom stood. “Come on, Mike. This is one of my favorites.”
Dad tossed his napkin onto the table and rose. “It’s better than line dancing.” He grasped mom’s hand and led her out onto the tiny dance floor.
“That’s so cute.” Emma beamed at him.
Her smile was like a blow to his Adam’s apple. He could barely breathe and almost choked on his pork. Her cheerleading made him want to burn up the dance floor.
“They don’t get out much.” He cleared his throat. “Work and all.” And an injured son. The joke was on him. He hadn’t been out in months either. He couldn’t even remember when he’d been on his last date.
Emma swiveled to watch his parents and two other couples on the intimate dance floor. Brown hat strode to the edge of the flooring, his hat tilting and swaying as he tried to stare at Emma through the gaps in the couples. Was the guy going to make a move? Why not? Wade had a cane hanging from his chair and his distance from Emma relegated him to brother status. It didn’t help that Emma kept time to the beat with her torso. Her swaying fringe was a duck call to every hunter in the restaurant. A grim idea crept into his thoughts. It would only take one whack behind the knees with his cane to put Brown Hat out of commission. Okay. Now he was losing it.
Brown Hat dodged a couple and swaggered toward their table. He sported a cringe worthy leer.
Sweat dampened Wade’s forehead. Could he let that guy sweep Emma away? What if she liked the rugged cowboy type? Fran would be out for a few more weeks, but could he place a hold on a relationship until then?
“Wanna dance?” Wade leapt to his feet and motioned toward the floor with an arm that suddenly felt as if it had broken out in hives.
Emma popped out of her seat and scooted toward him. Her nose crinkled. For once she looked shy.
“I don’t know that song or how to dance country. I only know a few polka steps or what we did in high school. Hold on and barely move.”
“Works for me.” He grasped her hand and stifled a smirk as Brown Hat did an about face. Blocking the warning signals going off in his brain and ignoring any inquisitive gazes from his parents, he drew Emma in close and started the slowest three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn of his life. The brim of Emma’s hat tickled his chin and whatever floral perfume she was wearing had him rocketing to Mars. He liked the feel of her curves in his arms. He tightened his hold around her lower back, and when she snuggled closer, he almost sang with the band. Yep, he’d better call the doctor straightaway for a medical release and create a few degrees of separation from Emma. Holding her in his arms felt too real and too right. Why hadn’t he learned how to polka?
~*~
Emma reached for her phone on the nightstand. The hum and strum of a night in downtown Nashville had her too charged to sleep. When she closed her eyes, she transported into the circle of Wade’s embrace. Why had her boss asked her to dance? Was it because of his mom’s encouragement? To be a gracious host? To prove he had recovered? Or did he enjoy her company? Because if possible, she’d continue going round and round and round with Wade until the flooring wore out. Part of her was still trying to hold onto the tingle of his touch. Her insides were jumbled and fluttery like crepe paper caught in a ceiling fan.
She flopped on the bed and texted Sam.
STILL STARGAZING?
A few minutes passed while she checked her social media.
CHANGE OF PLANS. WE HAD DINNER AT GRETTA AND ERNIE’S. THEIR SON JEDEDIAH IS IN TOWN. SHE brIBED US WITH brISKET AND CHEESY POTATOES. WE PLAYED HEARTS AFTERWARD.
Hearts. An applicable subject.
I WON AT HEARTS TONIGHT. WADE AND I DANCED TOGETHER DOWNTOWN.
SLOW OR FAST?
PAINSTAKINGLY SLOW.
Emma could almost hear the squeals coming from Whispering Creek.
I KNEW IT. YOU’RE JUST WHAT THE DOCTOR ORDERED. LOL.
FUNNY. HE’S MY BOSS. OFF LIMITS.
Would Sam agree?
FRAN WILL RETURN IN A FEW WEEKS. THEN YOU’LL BE FREE TO DATE EACH OTHER.
A heart emoji followed Sam’s text.
Would Wade want to start a relationship? He wasn’t forced to hug her for three point nine minutes tonight. And he did. He even held her hand and led her back to the table. At one point during their dance, he grinned, and she thought he might kiss her. Silly dream. Her chest housed a bass drum when she thought about Wade’s take-charge attitude, business skills, and sparkly eyes.
She scrunched a pillow under her head. Dating was not on her radar when she fled south.
IF HE’S INTERESTED. That was a big IF. MAYBE IT’S A REBOUND THING.
WADE HAD A LEG INJURY. NOT A HEAD WOUND. IF HE ASKED YOU TO DANCE, HE’S INTERESTED. REBOUNDS COME AFTER brOKEN RELATIONSHIPS NOT brOKEN BONES.
Sam had a point. BUT HE LIVES IN TN.
SO DO I. ENJOY YOUR TIME AT D&S AND PRAY TO GOD FOR WISDOM.
Great advice spoken by her bestie.
She texted Sam until her brain decompressed enough to sleep. Gazing at the ceiling, she asked God to sort out her future.
What was that verse about not worrying about tomorrow? She did a web search on her phone.
The screen showed Matthew 6:34.
THEREFORE, DO NOT WORRY ABOUT TOMORROW, FOR TOMORROW WILL WORRY ABOUT ITSELF. EACH DAY HAS ENOUGH TROUBLE OF ITS OWN.
She laughed in the darkness of the bedroom. “You’ve got that right, God.”