Chapter 8 #2
Huck punched him in the arm. “And it sure made a drinker out of you, didn’t it?
” He glanced at Magnolia. “Dawg doesn’t drink a drop.
No beer. No wine. No whiskey.” Dawson sent his brother a warning look, but it didn’t stop Huck from continuing.
“It’s like he doesn’t want to enjoy anything that has to do with his past and Honky Tonk Heaven.
He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t go to bars.
He doesn’t dance. He doesn’t like country music. ”
She looked at Dawson. “You don’t like country music? But it’s the best music ever.”
Huck tugged her closer. “See? Even California Mags knows good music when she hears it.”
Jaxon came out of the kitchen and handed Huck some keys. “Quit flirting with Magnolia, Huck, and get the doors open.”
Huck saluted. “Yes, oh, mighty leader.”
As soon as the doors were open, people started to flood in, and Magnolia couldn’t help the jitters that filled her stomach. It had been a while since she’d waited tables and that was at a sports bar not nearly as crowded as Honky Tonk Heaven.
But after the first few messed up orders, she got the hang of it again.
When she dropped a tray of drinks and the entire place erupted in applause and whoops, she simply laughed and curtsied before heading to the kitchen for a broom and dustpan.
When she returned, she found Dawson picking up the broken glass and tossing it into a trashcan.
“I thought you only clean up your own messes,” she said.
He shrugged. “You cut yourself and Jaxon will make me wait tables. And I’m as bad at it as Huck.”
Once the bar closed for the night, Magnolia thought she’d be exhausted. And she was tired, but it was a contented tired. She’d loved talking to the townsfolk and hearing about their day, family issues, and relationship trouble.
And she really loved the tips.
She’d made more in one night than she’d made working three days straight at the bookstore. She was sitting at the bar counting those tips when a muscled arm curled around her waist and Huck whispered in her ear.
“Dance with me, Mags.”
She stuffed the roll of bills in her jean pocket and swiveled around on the barstool to face him.
“Sorry, Lover Boy, but I can’t two-step.”
His eyes widened. “You’re Texan born and you can’t two-step?”
Tully called from the other side of the room where she and Jaxon were stacking chairs on tables. “I was born in Texas, and I couldn’t two-step until your brother taught me.”
Jaxon finished placing a chair on a table and pulled his wife into his arms. “But you were a fast learner.”
“Only because you’re a great teacher.”
“Ple-e-ease!” Poppy groaned from behind the bar where she was closing out the register. “If I have to witness any more tender affection from you two, I’m going to puke.”
Jaxon laughed as he released Tully and moved to the jukebox. “Then you better get a bucket, Pops.” He put in some money and selected a song, then returned to his wife and held out a hand. “Dance with me, Tallulah.”
The jukebox .45 clicked into place and Randy Travis’s “Forever and Ever, Amen” came through the speakers. With a soft smile, Tully moved into her husband’s arms, and they danced in the small space in front of the jukebox.
Poppy huffed. “I swear I liked them both better when they weren’t married.”
“Don’t be a killjoy, Pops.” Huck held out a hand to Magnolia. “We can’t have you leaving Texas without learning how to two-step.”
“I wouldn’t take him up on that, Mags,” Poppy said. “Huck’s a terrible dancer. If you don’t believe me, just ask Cadee Stockton and her bruised toes.”
Magnolia figured Huck would have some witty comeback. Instead, he looked like Poppy had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water into his face. “Cadee told you I bruised her toes?”
Poppy stared at her brother. “I was kidding, Huckleberry. How would I know if you bruised Cadee’s toes? She was your friend not mine.”
For a second, Huck looked sad, but then the charming smile settled back in place. “It’s a simple dance, Mags. Come on, I’ll show you.” He drew her out to the dance floor, but it became obvious after only one lap around that the two-step wasn’t as simple as Huck thought.
After Magnolia stepped on his toes for the sixth time, he stopped. “Okay, so maybe you need a little demonstration.” He glanced at the bar. “Come on, Pops. Let’s show her how it’s done.”
Magnolia watched intently as the siblings started dancing. They were perfectly in sync . . . until all hell broke loose.
“Stop leading, Poppy!”
“If you knew the dance steps, I wouldn’t have to lead!”
“I know the dance steps. You just refuse to follow them!”
“Because you’re going too slow for the tempo of the song!”
“I’m on tempo. You’re the one that’s off!”
Magnolia was about to leave the dance floor and let the siblings argue it out when a hand slid around her waist and she was swirled into Dawson’s arms.
He didn’t say a word. He just started dancing.
It was obvious Dawson had danced. He executed the steps like they were second nature to him.
Instead of instructing her like Huck had done, Dawson took charge of her body and guided it around the dance floor with a firm grip on her hand and the subtle pressure of his fingers on her hip.
She laughed. “I thought you didn’t dance.”
“I don’t.”
“And yet, we’re dancing.”
Sunburst eyes pinned her. “Did you want to stop?”
“Don’t you dare! I’m just getting the hang of this.” She stepped on his toe and his eyebrows lifted.
“I can see that.”
She swatted his chest. “Hey, I’m a beginner!”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Her stomach did a backflip at the praise. “So, I guess learning how to dance is a prerequisite for owning a dancehall.”
He twirled her under his arm. She stumbled, but his fingers tightened on her hip and pulled her right back into step. “Pretty much.”
“Did your mama teach you?”
“Daddy.” She thought that was all he’d say, but after only a few steps, he continued.
“He loved to dance. He’d grab Mama and whirl her around the house whenever he got the chance.
” He paused and his voice held a note of sadness.
“It was the only time I ever saw her happy outside of Honky Tonk Heaven.”
She didn’t know why she brought up her mama. Maybe because she couldn’t stand the thought of him being sad alone. “I don’t know if my mama liked to dance. I can’t remember her dancing. Of course, I can’t remember her doing anything.”
He glanced at her. “You don’t remember her at all?”
“A few vague memories, but not a lot. And I learned early on that asking my daddy about her only made him sad.”
Dawson’s hand squeezed hers gently. “She danced.”
She stared at him. “You saw my mama dance?”
He nodded. “When we were little, we used to sneak into the backroom on Saturday nights to watch all the crazy. I remember seeing your mama and daddy on the dance floor. I remember because your mama was one of those dancers who grabbed your attention.” A smile spread over his face.
“She had a lot of energy just like you. When she danced, she would throw in all these extra twirls and boot heel taps that no one else was doing. She didn’t care if she was different. She just danced to her own music.”
Magnolia had heard a lot of stories about her mama since she’d come back to Promise Springs, but none had made her feel this happy . . . or this emotional. The conflicting emotions were almost too much to take. It was a relief when the overhead lights turned off and Jaxon yelled.
“Time to call it a night, folks!”
She started to pull away, but Dawson held tight as if he sensed her emotional turmoil.
“You okay?”
She swallowed. “Yeah.”
He gave her hand a final squeeze before he released her and stepped back. “Thanks for the dance, Maggie May.”