“Believe it or not, I did used to do a pretty hot two-step,” he said, trying to juggle the gym bag and the crutches. “Don’t let my current situation fool you.”
“Oh, it doesn’t,” Molly said. “What’s the bag for, Handy Andy?”
“I’m going to sleep in here for a couple nights, if you don’t mind. That way, when I wake, screaming in pain, you won’t have so far to run.”
He was prepared for one of her sharp little barbs, but instead she gave him a look of such sweet sympathy, such warm concern, all of it tinged with such innocent, ineffable longing, that if he hadn’t been on crutches, he might very well have fallen to his knees and begged her to marry him right here, right now.
“You can sleep in my bed,” she said, sending his entire nervous system into a momentary frenzy before she added, “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.”
“I don’t want to put you out, Molly.”
“You’re not. I’m really happy for the company.” She gave a little shrug. “I probably shouldn’t say so, it makes me sound like such a jerk, but I really don’t have any friends here.”
“Why not?” Dan could have kicked himself. He knew why not. A secret past and an unknown future, that’s why. Plus the service had probably given her that song and dance about not trusting anybody. She probably shouldn’t have trusted him.
“Maybe I’m shy.” She tried to laugh. “Socially challenged, I guess.”
“I can fix that,” he said.
“You can?”
“Sure. Pick up that phone and call Raylene. Tell her we’ll meet them at the Sit and Sip at eight o’clock tonight.”
“But what about your ankle?”
“Well, it could just be a blessing in disguise, you know.” He winked. “This way I can just sit and sip, and I won’t have to two-step with Raylene.”
Dan could still drive since it was his left foot that was injured, and the black BMW pulled into the gravel lot of the Sit and Sip in a magnificent cloud of sunset-colored dust.
Molly had taken pains to dress properly for the honky-tonk, even knowing that whatever she wore would pale in comparison with Raylene’s outfit. Dan told her she looked nice when she slid into the passenger seat, but when his eyes lit on Raylene in her spandex bottom and sequined top, he seemed to be registering more than merely “nice” on his compliment meter. On a scale of one to ten, Raylene was a 36DD. My Lord, Molly thought.
“Well, there you are,” the hairdresser exclaimed. “We thought you’d never get here, didn’t we, Buddy? You remember Danny Shackelford, don’t you? And this is my friend, Molly Hansen.”
While Dan and Buddy shook hands, Molly just stood there, slightly thunderstruck by Raylene’s use of the word friend. Did the outgoing, invincible hairdresser actually think of her that way? She longed to believe it was true, more than just Raylene being Raylene. She needed a friend now, more than ever before.
There was a band on the stage, playing at full country tilt, and no sooner had they all sat down than Raylene was dragging Buddy onto the dance floor.
“You ought to be thanking your lucky stars you sprained that ankle, Danny,” she called back gaily over her sequined shoulder, “or else I’d be dancing your feet right down to the bone.”
“You see,” Dan said, his lips close to Molly’s ear. “I told you it was a blessing.”
When the waitress came to take their order, it was no surprise that she, too, remembered Dan and had her own little bit of Shackelford lore to relate. With the music so loud, it was almost impossible to hear, and Molly only picked up scattered words such as motorcycle and keg and, last but not least, sheriff.
It did surprise her, though, when Dan ordered a club soda with a twist of lemon. She decided he was simply being cautious after taking those pain pills. It was probably a good idea.
An hour later, after both Raylene and Buddy had given her lessons in two-stepping, Molly felt like a sweaty mess as she followed Raylene into the ladies’ room.
“My Lord,” the hairdresser exclaimed when she looked into the mirror. “I think my hair’s turned two shades darker. You think all that cigarette smoke could do that, Molly? Turn a person’s hair from pink to purple?”
“It’s probably just the lighting in here,” Molly said, digging in her handbag for her lipstick and coming up with a roll of mints. “Raylene, could I borrow a little bit of that Strawberry Frappé of yours?”
Even as Molly asked, Raylene was applying it liberally. She answered with her lips pressed to her teeth. “Aw, honey, I don’t know why you’d even bother. I’ve been watching you and Danny. If ever I’ve seen kissing on a man’s mind, it’s on his. You’d only get strawberry all over that cute Hawaiian shirt of his.”
“Kissing?”
“Yeah. You know. That’s when two people put their lips together and start talking without any words.” She rolled her eyes. “Kissing, Molly. My Lord. How long has it been, girl?”
“A long time,” Molly admitted.
“I guess so if you can’t see what I’m seeing.” Raylene blotted her lips, then added another layer of color. “You take my word for it. Your dry spell has come to a screeching halt, honey.” She closed one dark-lashed eye in a wink. “Tonight’s the night, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, God. No, she didn’t know exactly what Raylene meant, and Molly did a panicky search for feet in the nearby stalls in the hope that the whole town didn’t know what Raylene meant, either. Luckily, no feet were visible.
“For pity’s sake, Raylene,” she said, trying to sound worldly and offhand. “The man’s got a sprained ankle.”
Raylene wound her lipstick back in its plastic tube, then snapped the cap on with authority. “Molly, I hope you never meet a man who lets a little sprained ankle keep him down. And I hope you catch my drift.” She gave herself a final, critical once-over in the mirror, seemed pleased with what she saw, then linked her arm through Molly’s. “Well. You ready for another dancing lesson?”
“I hope you don’t believe half of these stories people are telling about me,” Dan said on their way home from the Sit and Sip.
“They’re not true?”
“Well, if you halve the quantity of the booze, and double the times Miss Hannah slapped me up the side of my head, then, yeah, they’re basically true.”
“Speaking of drinks,” she said, “how was the club soda?”
“Like creek water. But I didn’t know what was in those pills you made me swallow, so I didn’t want to take any chances.”
What he meant was he didn’t know if her mysterious caller might emerge from the shadows around the dance floor and two-step Molly into oblivion. Sobriety was a necessary evil at the moment.
“You
