The talking faded when Angie joined the table. She dressed for attention in a fuzzy white sweater and paisley leggings. A bright pink scarf wrapped twice around her throat brought attention to her face.
“Butch,” she said, making it three syllables. “Can I have a word with you?”
“No,” Trudy said. “The word is no.”
Butch sighed heavily but stood. “Trudy, stop it. Angie, there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Just a word,” she asked again, leading him away from the table.
Kate couldn’t hear the conversation, but she could read the body language. Butch started standing tall and proud, but minute by minute, he shrank until he looked like a boy facing his teacher. Whatever weight Angie had, she threw. Butch needed help. He needed three seconds of courage.
Kate moved behind Angie’s shoulder where Butch could see her. She stood there, silently, repeatedly puffing her cheeks out like a bullfrog. Butch smiled and, in that moment, remembered himself. He struck a Superman pose.
Of course, Angie turned around and busted her. “You, you, you interfering little—”
“Enough, Angie.” Butch stepped away from Angie, capturing Kate’s wrist in passing. “I said no. How are you at darts, Katie?”
“Better than I am at cooking.”
They threw a game, but Butch’s heart wasn’t in it. Kate saw him repeatedly looking over his shoulder like lightning might strike at any moment. He needed a distraction.
Kate pulled the darts from the board and held them. “What do you say we make this interesting? A friendly wager?”
Those dusty blues snapped to her. “I’ve seen your idea of a bet.”
“Then you know I mean what I say. Let’s make this interesting.”
Butch rolled his eyes. “Twenty bucks?”
Kate snorted. “If I win, you get up on stage and sing ‘I’m a Little Tea Pot.’”
Butch’s eyes flashed wide, then that slow smiled she loved shone through. “If I win, you have to do the ‘Hokey Pokey.’”
She winced. She had planned to throw the game to give his ego a stroke, but the “Hokey Pokey”, alone, in the middle of a bar full of strangers? That was so far outside the comfort zone, it wasn’t even in the same zip code.
“Chicken?”
“You’re going down, big man.”
They didn’t talk. With stakes this high, they kept their focus where it needed to be. He led. She led. She gave him a good game, but in the end, she stood, sweaty palms and all, in front of the stage and the band.
Butch read the fear in her eyes. She looked at the door but didn’t run. He wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have made a break for it if the darts had gone the other way. He’d do what he could to make this good for her.
Butch jumped up on the stage and spoke with the band. “Hey, boys, I need a favor. I’m going to call ‘The Hokey Pokey.’ Will ya back me?”
The band members grinned at one another, then back at Butch. The lead guitarist answered. “Sure, Butch. Anything you want.”
Butch took the mic and called out loud and proud. “How y’all doin’ tonight?” Cheers and clapping answered. “We’re going to do a little throw back number. Back, like way back, to elementary school. Girls, grab your guys and get ready for a little Hokey Pokey.”
The band played as a circle formed with Kate on the side where Butch could see her. Twenty women and a handful of men stood elbow to elbow when Butch began to call. “You put your right leg in, you put your right leg out—your other right, Cordell, that’s it—you put your right leg in, now shake it like that leg hound of yours is on it. That’s right. Do the Hokey Pokey, and you turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about. Left leg, that’s your other right, Cordell.” The laughter grew as the rounds went on. Butch kept his eye on Kate. In the middle of mass humiliation, she hammed it up, getting as silly as everyone else. “You put your backside in, you put your backside out. You put your backside in, and you shake it all about. Come on, Katie. Shake that backside. Shake it like you mean it. Drop it like it’s hot!”
Kate shook her tight little butt six inches from the floor to a round of applause. Then she blew him a kiss.
“That’s my girl.” Butch shook his head at her antics. “Come on, y’all, bring it home. That’s what it’s all about!”
The joint roared with approval. It wasn’t every night you got old school funky with a performer of Butch’s caliber. He shook hands with each member of the band. “Can I ask another favor? Play a slow one?”
“You got it, Butch,” the lead guitarist said.
The audience engulfed Butch when he jumped off the stage. Kate had drifted to the back of the room, watching as couples met on the dance floor. It took several minutes for Butch to wade through the handshakes and hugs to reach her.
“That was some mighty fine Hokey Pokey-ing.”
Kate bowed her head with mock graciousness. “Thank you. I was a champion Hokey Pokey-er in my preschool class. So tell me, did you enjoy your win?” Her eyes twinkled, and her hair hung in frizzed ringlets down her back.
The silly stunt filled the dark and cold corners of Butch’s heart with laughter. “I did. It was more interesting than taking twenty off you. Come here.” He pulled her to the center of the dance floor.
“Where are we going?”
“Here.” He tugged until she fell into his arms and held her close when she stood awkwardly in his embrace. “You’re supposed to relax when you dance.”
She took three steps backward with Butch following. “I don’t know how to dance.”
“It’s easy. The first thing to know is that the man leads. I step, you follow. Not vice versa.” He took three steps backward, putting them back in the middle of the floor.
She pushed at his chest. “You’re too close. I can’t see my feet.”
“You’re not supposed to see your feet. You’re supposed to look at me. Put your arms around me. Most women put their arms around a man’s neck, but I’m willing to explore any more interesting ideas you might have.”
Color crept into Kate’s face, but she slid her hands up his chest until they reached the back of his neck.
“Now sway back and forth with me.” He pressed his hips against her stomach, showing her which way he wanted to go.
She lifted her chin. “I’m going to step on your feet.”
Butch dipped his head and captured her words. Her soft lips opened with a gasp. Butch made the brief kiss sweet, intimate. He didn’t push her for more but cradled her to his chest, showing his growing affection. Her hands had tightened on his neck, her whole body stopped moving. He stroked the lines of her back, the curves of her waist and hips while humming the ballad in her ear, swaying in time. The closeness had other effects. His body hardened, wanting more, but Butch focused on Katie. By the time the bridge ended, she rewarded his patience by melting in his embrace. Her soft curves followed his hard lines. When the song ended, he tipped her chin up and kissed her forehead, her nose, and her lips.
“You taste as sweet as summer strawberries.”
She stepped back and reached to smooth her hair.
Butch caught that nervous hand and brought it to his mouth. The contrast in Katie intrigued him, challenged him to discover the real woman. On the surface, she wore the skin of a quick-witted, exuberant woman. But beneath lived a shy woman who blushed at a compliment and looked on the verge of running.
“I…I don’t think this is a good idea.” She tugged at her captured hand.
Butch held that hand to his heart. “What, honey?”
“I’m your roommate. That makes this…”
Butch raised an eyebrow, challenging her to finish her thought. A shout of his name from across the room caught his attention. “Looks like you won a reprieve. Don’t disappear on me. Remember, I’m your ride home.” He kissed her knuckles before releasing her hand.
The second Butch’s back turned, Kate ran to the only sanctuary a woman had: the ladies’ room. She rushed into a sta
ll and sat on the seat, fully clothed. What happened? She intended the whole Hokey Pokey thing to be a gag to pick up Butch’s spirits. She’d overshot. By several states.
What was he thinking, kissing her? She really wanted to know, because her brain stopped working when she felt that soft weight on her lips. Then his hips started moving, and she felt a different kind of weight pressed into her belly.
This was a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad idea. He flirted with her! What was he thinking?
Not that she completely hated it. Butch did more than make her heart go pitter patter. She liked his mouth, liked his lips on her, liked his voice in her ear.
But that wasn’t the point, was it? They had a…contract. An implied but firm contract. They were roommates with chores performed in exchange for room and board.
She liked his home. Doing the chores would be more like play than work. Maybe they would work together. If it was warm enough, he could do it with his shirt off.
No no no no no!
Yes!
She had to think what could happen if this went anywhere.
Kate jerked to her feet and pushed open the stall door. She needed to be outside. She needed space to think.
“You!” Venom poured out with the word. Angie McCormick stalked across the tile floor, her heels clicking with each step. The pretty pin-up face mutated into that of a bitter, lonely woman. The lines carved in the carefully applied makeup showed the years over thirty Angie tried to erase. Her finger in Kate’s chest, she spoke through a tight mask of hatred. “You have no right interfering in Butch McCormick’s business.”
Over Angie’s shoulder, Kate saw Trudy come into the restroom.
Trudy stilled for a moment, looked at the scene, and frowned. “Neither do you.” She yanked on Angie’s arm, spinning her away from Kate.
Kate planted her feet, ready to defend herself. Angie stepped to the side, opening up room between the two of them. Standing three paces apart, Angie and Trudy had eyes only for each other.
Angie pitched forward, jabbing her index finger toward Trudy. “This is none of your business either, Trudy. You think you’re something special? You are nothing but a cheap groupie. You’ve always been jealous of me.”
Trudy looked at Angie’s tightly stretched shirt. “The only thing cheap here is your boob job.”
Angie’s face flushed with color. She trembled with the insult but didn’t respond, verbally or otherwise. Then the door pushed opened, and two denim-clad women entered, laughing about the Hokey Pokey. Angie darted behind the women, catching the door before it closed. She narrowed her eyes at Trudy. “One of these days, you’re going to get yours.”
Chapter Four
Kate knelt next to an iron-framed bed. She blew lightly across a cup of coffee, the steam teasing the hair that laid across Butch’s cheek. His eyelashes fluttered. He inhaled deeply and exhaled a slow, satisfied sigh. Kate crept closer to the bed and blew again. Butch rolled toward her, and the elaborate quilt slid to his waist. His arm fell off the bed, landing heavily on her thigh.
Kate blew the steaming coffee a third time, and he inhaled again; this time his lashes lifted.
His hazy eyes, open to the narrowest of slits, roamed over her face. “What are you doing?”
“Waking you. I made coffee. Coffee worth waking up for.”
“What time is it?” Butch asked, his voice thick with sleep.
“Six thirty.”
Butch groaned and rolled away from her, draping his arm over his eyes. “In the morning?”
“Of course in the morning. I thought farm boys were all about ‘early to bed, early to rise.’” When he curled into the quilt, Kate sat on the edge of the bed and sipped the coffee. “Come on, lazy bones. You’re driving me to work this morning, remember?”
Butch twisted to look at her. “It’s still night. The damned rooster isn’t even up yet.” On cue, a rooster crowed from behind the house. Butch kicked at the quilt like a grumpy child, coming to stand in front of her as rumpled as the bed he’d left. “It’s a conspiracy. A goddamned conspiracy. That better be a freaking great cup of coffee.”
Kate stood, protecting the coffee as the blankets flew. She sipped as she appraised the twisted sleep pants, the mess of hair, the narrow eyes, and broad shoulders. Definitely not a morning person. She thought she might have to make a habit of waking him just to see that twist to his mouth. “I’ve been accused of a lot of things, but never conspiring with a cock.” She handed him the appeasing cup, her gaze racing over the picture he made, so she could take another look when she had a few minutes to herself.
He sipped the coffee, groaning deep in his throat. “That’s good. Aren’t you full of surprises? What’s in this?”
“It’s a coveted family secret. How long until you’ll be ready to go?”
He swallowed half the cup. “Ten minutes. Maybe less if you make me a cup to go.”
“Consider it done.”
Better than his word, Butch stumbled down the stairs five minutes later. A baseball hat with a stitched guitar on it contained his curly hair. He wore the shirt he’d worn the night before but inside out. Rumpled jeans and cowboy boots finished the package. “You ready?”
Kate nodded, handing over a silver travel mug. “Your shirt is inside out. How did you button it that way?”
He answered by stripping the button-down shirt over his head, which turned it right side out, and pulling it back on like a T-shirt.
“Interesting approach.”
Butch sipped the hot coffee. “No point getting fancy. I’m going back to bed as soon as I get you off and running.” He went into the kitchen and retrieved his keys and phone from the counter. He shoved his phone in his pocket and tossed the keys at Kate. “You’re driving.”
The rising sun painted a sky no camera could capture, but Kate missed it. Her sharp eyes focused on landmarks and crossroads to make sure she could find her way back again. She turned left where Butch’s road teed into a state route. In the field at the intersection, a lone bull faced east, basking in the early morning sun.
“Have you ever ridden a live bull?” she asked.
Butch shook his head. “I’ve always thought riding the mechanical one was stupid enough. My brother Jeb did it once, though.”
“Just once?”
Butch nodded and laughed. “He broke his arm.”
Kate wondered at his sense of humor. “Why is that funny?”
“Jeb couldn’t have been nineteen, trying to impress a girl. His legs went all wonky after he got thrown. A stick figure of a rodeo clown tried to get him out, but Jeb wouldn’t cooperate. God knows what he was thinking. The clown finally got Jeb out of the ring and then cold cocked him. Jeb flipped over a pile of gear and came up with a broken arm. Then Mama got ahold of him. I told him riding a bull was a stupid way to impress girls. Better to go with flowers.”
“Flowers are a classic for a reason. Speaking of bulls, I liked your bar, even if the bull was out of commission. You have good friends, but they don’t think much of your ex, Angie.”
Butch sighed. “She’s never liked the Sly Dog. She only comes out to corner me. It’s not a fun life, but it is predictable.”
“Was she serious about wanting to vaccinate snakes?” Kate saw his reflection nod. “I support environmental efforts. This building will be LEED certified, which means it’s being constructed in a sustainable manner. There is actually a big role in architecture for sustainable and environmental stewardship…but vaccinating snakes is a new one for me. Is that a Tennessee thing?”
“More like an Angie thing. We were high school sweethearts. I had just turned eighteen when she got pregnant. We married a week after graduating high school. She lost the baby before the end of that summer. At eighteen, we were just too damned young.”
Kate couldn’t imagine being married now, let alone at that age. “When I was eighteen, I was executing my great escape from my family.”
“Where did you escape to?”
“New York
City. Columbia University.”
“So it worked?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Well, here we are. Work sweet work.” Kate steered the pickup truck through the gate and across the uneven ground to an enclave of trailers in one corner of the site.
Butch had seen dozens of construction sites, many from the window of a car as his life raced by at thirty-five to seventy miles an hour. He’d never given more than a passing thought about what happened on the other side of the fence. Like Alice through the looking glass, he put one foot down on that gravel and dirt surface and found himself in another world. Through the fence, he saw the world he lived in, exactly two hundred feet and a world away. The world on this side of the fence towered ten times larger than life. Tires on machinery stood taller than a man. The earth had been torn open, and from her womb rose a steel frame that juxtaposed elegance with brute strength.
He whistled long and low as he came around to the back of his truck. He lowered the tailgate and pulled out the boxes that had been in Kate’s trunk. “I never thought much about how you built a building.”
Kate worked next to him, taking the boxes and stacking them against the trailer. “From the bottom up. Come on inside. I’ll get you another cup of coffee and give you a tour.”
Butch followed Kate up five steps and into the triple-wide, white trailer. He’d been in trailers before. Some of his best friends grew up in double-wides, but nothing like this. This trailer specialized in business. High-tech business. A desk with a flat screen computer monitor and a vase of dying flowers greeted visitors just inside the trailer door. Five folding chairs claimed space around a small conference table to the left, and across from it, four cubicles made a hallway to an office with a door.
Kate tugged on his sleeve and led him through the space. “That’s my office.” She entered the room at the end of the hall, tossed her bag onto the cluttered desktop, and gestured to the corner. “There she is.”
Lost in Tennessee Page 6
