Page 46 of The Wedding Gift
He ignored his late father’s advice and sang along with Blake. Dalton had always thought love at first sight was a bunch of overfried bologna. Rye had told him all about how he’d been downright love drunk when he first met Austin, and Dalton had thought he was crazy. Now, he wasn’t so sure, because he was feeling what Rye described for Becca.
“And she’s not even my type,” he muttered when he turned south. “She’s too tall. She’s a redhead and everyone knows they’ve got a temper. To top it all off, she’s got those green eyes that I could drown in.”
A mile down the highway, he glanced over at the new casino that had gone up three years ago. Sitting right on the edge of the Red River, it drew people in from all over north Texas and provided a few jobs for the folks around the little town of Terral. He almost stopped there to have a drink or two and blow a twenty-dollar bill at the slots, but that would put him late getting to the Broken Bit, which would mean all the ladies would already be taken. Besides, he wanted to flirt with a cute little brunette and maybe get lucky enough to get Becca off his mind.
He crossed the river bridge into Texas and drove anotherfive miles to Ringgold. There he made a right-hand turn on Highway 82 and headed toward Henrietta. In another ten minutes, he pulled into the Broken Bit’s dimly lit parking lot. Judging by all the pickups and cars and the loud music that seemed to be raising the roof a few inches, the place was booming—just the way he liked it. He got out of the truck, locked it, and shoved the keys into his pocket.
“Hey, Dalton,” a feminine voice called out behind him.
He turned around to see Lacy Ruiz not ten feet away. “Hey, girl. You just now getting here?”
“Yep,” she answered. “You want to save me the last dance?”
A broad grin covered his face. Lacy was his kind of woman—short, brunette, a good dancer, and he had spent enough nights with her to know that she made a mean western omelet the next morning.
“We’ll have to see about that,” he said as he pulled a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and gave it to the man at the door for both their cover charges. “Never know what might happen between now and closin’ time.”
“Ain’t that the truth, but we could be each other’s backup plan,” she suggested.
“Sounds good to me.”
She disappeared into the crowd of folks doing a line dance. The female vocalist was doing a credible job of theband’s rendition of “Any Man of Mine” by Shania Twain. Dalton followed Lacy inside, slid onto the last empty barstool, and ordered a longneck Coors.
“How about you, Dalton?” Tessa, the bartender, grinned. “You goin’ to ever walk the line like the song says, or are you going to go to your grave still chasin’ women?”
“Haven’t decided,” Dalton answered. “All the good ones like you are done taken.”
“Honey, I’m old enough to be your mama,” Tessa told him. “And there’s plenty of good ones still out there. I just doubt you’ll ever find the one for you in a place like this.”
“You’re here,” he said.
“Yeah, but my husband and I met at a church social. It wasn’t until we’d been married twenty years that we bought this place, and for your information, we’ll both be in church tomorrow morning,” she told him.
“So will I,” Dalton said.
“Sure, you will,” Tessa giggled.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dalton asked.
“You’ll sow wild oats tonight. Tomorrow mornin’, you’ll be sittin’ on the back pew praying for a crop failure. You can’t fool me, cowboy,” she said. “I hear that Austin and Rye are off on a vacation and have left you and Becca McKay in charge of the place for the next week. You might want to putthose wild oats on the back burner tonight and be a responsible foreman.”
“You givin’ me advice now, Miz Tessa?” he asked.
“Yep, I surely am.” Tessa headed off to the other end of the bar.
The lady singer stepped back from the microphone and took her place behind a keyboard, and the male singer started singing Travis Tritt’s “T.R.O.U.B.L.E.” The lyrics had just said something about looking at what just walked through the door when Dalton caught sight of a tall woman with flaming-red hair in his peripheral vision. He turned to look and almost dropped his beer when he saw Becca coming straight toward the bar.
“You are a genius, Travis,” Dalton murmured.
Becca crossed the room, weaving her way among the line dancers, and sat down on the barstool right next to him. He waited until she ordered a beer and then tossed a bill on the counter when Tessa brought it to her.
“I’ll buy your first drink tonight in exchange for the last dance of the evening,” Dalton said.
“Good God!” Becca exclaimed. “Where did you come from?”
“Been right here the whole time.” He grinned.
“I’ll pay for my own beer,” she said.