A Slow Dance Holiday

by Carolyn Brown

  You are going to be the death of your family for thinking like that. Abigail’s voice popped into Jorja’s head.

  Take off your holier-than-thou britches, Jorja argued. Thinking something doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.

  Chapter 7

  When Jorja got into the truck and fastened the seat belt, Cameron was still smoldering hot from that make-out session, but he turned the heater on low for her benefit. She now wore a pair of red cowboy boots, but that was all that had been changed. Tight jeans hugged every curve, and her cheeks were flushed from the cold—or maybe from all that kissing. Had it heated her up as much as it had him? He wondered.

  Think about cooking or something, anything but the way she felt in your arms, he told himself as he turned on the windshield wipers and drove away from the parking lot. “North or south?” he asked.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Distance is a little over thirty miles either way,” he answered.

  “Is Gordon that far? I got the idea from Frankie that it wasn’t but a few miles,” she said.

  “We need a supermarket, not a convenience store. Mineral Wells is to the northeast. South is Stephenville. Both have a Walmart and several grocery stores,” he explained. “I looked it all up before I moved from Florida, so I’d know what to expect. If one of us needs a hospital, we’d probably go to one of those towns too,” he answered.

  “Either one is fine with me, then,” she answered. “Just how much food are we buying today?”

  “Let’s try for two weeks’ worth. I’m ready for something more than burgers and fries.” Talking about food almost took his mind off her lips and the way he felt with her lying on top of his body.

  “Me, too. I’ve been starving for fried chicken,” she said.

  “We could go to KFC while we’re out and about,” he offered.

  “Why don’t we start our own tradition.” She would make a lousy poker player because her face lit up and her eyes started to twinkle. “Since we can’t go home for the holidays, let’s do it our way. We’ll have fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, hot biscuits, and corn on the cob for our Christmas dinner. What’s your very favorite kind of pie?”

  “Cherry cobbler with ice cream on top,” he answered. “And you’re making me hungry talking about a dinner like that.”

  “Then we’ll have cobbler for dessert,” she said. “We can get ice cream at the Mingus convenience store on the way back home. That way it won’t melt.” She took a deep breath and went on. “But for today, let’s go have something like Mexican or Italian.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Cameron was glad the highway had been cleaned off and that the traffic was light that day.

  He was humming a new country song by Jason Isbell titled “Cover Me Up” and planning to ask the jukebox guy to include it the next time he came by when he noticed movement out of his peripheral vision. He stomped the brakes, hit a patch of ice, and slid to a stop as a buck and a doe crossed the road in front of them.

  “Two again,” he said.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Seems like everywhere I look there’s two of everything, beginning with those two doves that we hung above the bar,” he answered.

  “So you noticed that too,” she said. “Think it means anything?”

  “I don’t believe in signs, magic, and miracles.” He chuckled.

  The trip took a little longer than what the map app on his phone said, but they were in Mineral Wells before noon. He noticed a sign for a barbecue place a mile up the road and pointed it out to Jorja.

  “How about some brisket?” he asked.

  “Yes!” She clapped her hands. “And I hope they have good beans. Mama makes the best baked beans in the whole world.”

  “I’d have to argue with you there,” Cameron said. “My nana wears that crown, and if you don’t believe me, you’ll have to go to Sunday dinner with me sometime over at her house.”

  “I’d have to taste them before I’d agree with you, and I got to tell you, my mother’s will be a hard act to follow.”

  She was definitely flirting with him, and suddenly he got cold feet. There were at least a hundred reasons why he should shut this down, and number one was that they were partners. They had come pretty damn close to going inside and having sex that morning. Thank God, she had the good sense to stop it and they could think about things before they dived into that passion pool.

  What if they did get physically involved, and then it fizzled? They’d still be partners and things would get awkward in a hurry, but what if it didn’t burn out after the first few weeks and turned into a serious relationship? Could they take it to that plane and still work together?

  “You sure got quiet,” she commented when he pulled his truck into the parking lot of the barbecue place.

  “Thinkin’ about those baked beans.” JJ would have called that a half lie, and those didn’t matter since they weren’t one hundred percent fibs. Cameron had been thinking about food earlier, so it was not a full-fledged lie.

  “You must be hungry,” she said as she unfastened her seat belt and got out of the truck before he could rush around and open the door for her.

  “Look!” She pointed at two cardinals, a bright-red male and his lady friend, sitting on the bench outside the door. “Still think it’s not a sign of some kind?”

  “Coincidence,” he muttered as he held the door for her.

  The restaurant was nearly empty, which did not bode well for its reputation in Cameron’s opinion, but the waitress told them to sit anywhere they wanted and was quick to bring them a menu once they’d chosen a table. “We’re only going to be open for another hour, so y’all just got here in time. We are out of smoked chicken, but we’ve still got almost everything else.”

  “I’ll have a pulled-pork sandwich, baked beans, coleslaw and potato salad, and a glass of sweet tea,” Jorja said.

  “That was quick,” Cameron said.

  “I don’t want to spend my whole hour looking at the menu,” she told him. “I want to take time to enjoy every bite of my food.”

  “I’ll have the dinner plate with everything she said, except I want half a rack of ribs.” He handed the lady the menus and turned his attention back to Jorja. “I’ll share my ribs if you’ll give me half your sandwich. Both sounded good.”

  “Are you sure about that? Adam sure got in trouble when God took one of his ribs to make a woman,” Jorja teased.

  “I’ll take my chances.” He chuckled.

  She unwrapped the napkin from around her silverware and picked up the fork. “If you’re that brave, then yes, I will share with you, but I’m warnin’ you, I do not share my fried chicken legs with anyone.” She accentuated every single word with a jab of her fork.

  “No worries, darlin’.” He grinned. “These folks are out of chicken—and I’m a breast man so I’m not interested in legs anyway.”

  Jorja could feel the heat rising on her neck. There was no way she could prevent it from reaching her face, but she’d be damned if she let Cameron get ahead of her. “You’re a lucky man since a chicken has two breasts.”

  “I’ve always been a lucky cowboy.” He winked.

  “Always might fail you in the future.” She fluffed out the oversize red napkin and put it in her lap.

  “I hope not.” A wide grin covered his face.

  The waitress brought their tea and a basket of hot rolls and set them down on the table. “Be right back with your food.”

  “See how lucky I am,” Cameron teased. “We don’t even have to wait an hour to be served.”

  “That’s not luck, cowboy,” Jorja argued. “That’s just because everyone else is home with their families today, and we’re probably going to get the last of what’s in the pots, and it won’t be worth eating.”

  “The last is always the best,” he
said.

  “Are we still talking about food?” she asked.

  “Of course.” He looked as innocent as a little boy in Sunday school class.

  Jorja made a vow never to play poker with him. If he could use his expressions to lie like that, he’d win all her money, or her clothes if they were playing that kind of poker.

  The waitress brought their food and Jorja cut her sandwich in half. She put one part on his plate, forked over two ribs onto her own plate, and then began to eat. “Good ribs, and great beans.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he agreed between bites. “We’ll have to come back here again.”

  They finished their food, which was exceptionally good, bypassed dessert, and headed straight to Walmart to get their groceries. That took two hours, and half of that time was spent standing in line to check out. All those folks that weren’t at the barbecue place were evidently in Walmart buying food for the next day.

  “I’m glad we shopped for two weeks,” she said as they loaded the bags into the back seat of his truck. “I’d hate to do this every single week. It would blow a whole day to drive up here, shop, and then get home in time to open the bar at six.”

  “Yep,” he agreed.

  The roads had been clear on the way to Mineral Wells, but by the time they started home, they were slick with sleet and ice. Cameron had slowed down to thirty miles an hour when she saw the bull and cow right across a barbed-wire fence.

  “You’ve got to start believing in signs,” she told him.

  “Why?” He kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes straight ahead.

  “Take a look to your right,” she answered him. “And they’ve even got bells around their necks. Dogs with antlers and now cattle with bells.”

  “It’s Christmas,” he said. “Folks do silly things during this season.”

  “Possums?” she asked.

  “Looking for carrots,” he answered.

  Thank God, they were in a heavy truck with four-wheel drive or the thirty-minute trip would have taken a lot longer than an hour and a half. She didn’t realize she was gripping the handrest on the inside of the door so hard until they came to a long, greasy sliding stop in the parking lot of the Honky Tonk.

  “Don’t hit Frank James,” she squealed.

  “Doin’ my best not to,” Cameron said through clenched teeth, and then let out a loud whoosh of pent-up breath when the truck finally stopped a few feet from the two snowmen. “That was too close for comfort.”

  “Amen. Who’d have thought the weather would get so bad so quickly?” Jorja opened the door and stepped out, only to slip and fall square on her butt.

  She started to grab the tire and work her way back up when Cameron scooped her up and started for the back door with her in his strong arms. “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Just my pride,” she answered. “I should have kept my rubber boots on.”

  “Honey, as slick as this damn parking lot is, we need ice skates to get around.” He set her down on the back stoop and unlocked the door. “I’ll bring in the groceries if you’ll put them away.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me on that deal.” She headed down the short hall to the doorway leading into their living quarters. Never had a little efficiency apartment looked so good as that one did after what seemed like a sled ride home.

  “Home,” she muttered as she pulled off her coat and stocking hat, then kicked off her boots.

  Nashville had not been home even though she’d lived there for years. She’d always thought of her place as “the apartment.” Home was Hurricane Mills where she’d grown up. How could home suddenly be an old honky tonk in a town thirty miles from a Walmart and a doctor’s office?

  Sometimes Santa Claus brings you a present you didn’t even ask for. Her grandmother’s voice was back in her head. Last spring you told me you were ready to get serious and settle down, but there were no good men left in the world. Then you said that you would love to be your own boss. Merry Christmas, darlin’ girl.

  Jorja remembered that conversation as if it had happened only yesterday and then her mother’s words from years ago came back to haunt her. Be careful what you wish for. You just might get it and not know what to do with it.

  Cameron brought in two fists full of plastic bags and set them on the table. “Got about that many more. We forgot to stop and get ice cream for tomorrow. I’ll drive back to the convenience store and get it when I get done unloading.”

  “You will not!” she exclaimed. “We slipped and slid on the ice so much that we barely got stopped once. No sense in testing fate a second time no matter how lucky you think you are. We’ll get some whipped cream from the bar and use it on our cobbler.”

  He held up his palms defensively. “Hey, with that tone, I won’t even think of arguing with you. I like whipped cream on my pie as well as ice cream anyway…and if we’re discussing whipped cream…” He grinned.

  She pointed a finger at him. “Don’t go there.” She’d blushed more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in her entire life.

  And you felt more alive in that time than you ever did before. Her grandmother was back again.

  “Go where?” he asked, and there was that innocent look again.

  “I bet you could sweet-talk a nun into falling into bed with you,” she smarted off.

  “Never tried, and quite frankly, I’d be kind of afraid of that. I’m fast, but honey, lightning is faster than I could ever be.” He chuckled as he went back out for the rest of the groceries.

  She found herself humming “Twinkle, Twinkle Lucky Star” as she put the food away.

  Then suddenly, the song filled the whole apartment and Cameron brought in the last of the groceries. “I stopped by the jukebox to play a little music while we make some popcorn and hot chocolate and get ready for our movies. I only plugged in three songs. If we need more, I can go back and put more money in.” He put the bags on the table and held out his arms. “May I have this dance?”

  She set down two cans of green beans and walked into his embrace. He two-stepped with her around the apartment, between the beds and then out into the bar where there was more room. To her surprise, he’d not only put money in the jukebox, but he’d turned on the Christmas tree lights. She glanced out the window as he danced her around the tables with chairs sitting on top of them to Merle singing about a lucky star, and there were two raccoons staring right at her. They had their little paws on the outside windowsill, and she could’ve sworn they were smiling.

  The sky was gray with heavy clouds so there were no stars shining that night, but the one on the Christmas tree was glowing all pretty and bright. When she was in a position to see out the window again, the raccoons were gone, but she had no doubt now that the universe really was sending her signs right and left. Everything, including the warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart, said that the past had faded like the sky, and her future was that lucky star sitting on top of a thirty-year-old Christmas tree.

  “It’s an omen,” she whispered.

  “What is?” he asked.

  “All this.” The song ended and Mary Chapin Carpenter started singing “I Feel Lucky.” Cameron spun her around in a swing dance. Both of them were laughing when he brought her back to his chest.

  “What about all this? How can it be an omen?” he asked.

  She laughed and looked up into his twinkling eyes. “Both songs talk about us being lucky, and everywhere we look there’s two of something. I just know it means something.”

  “Maybe it means that it’s great to have a partner,” he said.

  “Don’t you get the feeling we were meant to be right here at Christmas?” she asked.

  Life in Mingus, Texas, was going to be just fine. She’d found one of the last good men in the world and their journey together might not be what she expected when she made that wish last spring, but it would be
their story no matter where it led.

  He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

  Chapter 8

  Jorja hummed songs about feeling lucky while she watched the bag of popcorn in the microwave. A scraping noise behind her made her whip around to see Cameron moving his bed across the floor. If he thought a few kisses gave him permission to turn two beds into one, he had rocks or cow patties for brains. She opened her mouth to say something and then realized that he had made an L-shape out of the beds.

  “Now we’ve got a sectional to use to watch our movies,” he said. “We won’t have to strain our necks trying to see the television. I don’t know why the folks who put it in hung the damned thing on the wall.”

  “Probably because they didn’t have room for an entertainment unit or even a stand to put it on.” Couldn’t he see how small the place they shared really was?

  “Maybe so.” He put the first movie in the player that was sitting on a chair from the bar and picked up the remote. “Need some help over there?”

  “I got it under control, but I’m wondering what we’re going to use for a coffee table or end table to set our mugs on.” She poured two big cups full of hot chocolate and added a fistful of miniature marshmallows to each of them.

  “How about another chair? We can put it right here where the beds meet up.” He headed out to the bar before she could answer.

  She poured the popcorn into a bowl and carried it over to the new sectional. The part that faced the television was his bed, so she set it somewhere close to the middle and went back for the hot chocolate. By the time she’d carried that from the kitchen area, he had set the chair where it was needed and had flopped down on the bed with the remote in his hand. She sat down on the other side of the popcorn bowl and drew her legs up under her to sit cross-legged.

  “Are we ready?” He pointed the remote toward the television like it was a gun.

  “Nope, we have to dim the lights.” She hopped up and flipped the light switch next to the back door. “Did you ever realize that if we came home drunk some night, we might get confused and try to open the wrong back door?”