Page 4

"So far."

The car slows at a yellow light.

My stomach does a little flip. I admit, "I don't know if I'll ever get used to this."

"You will, once you see it gets us there in one piece."

I frown at the empty seat. "You sound awfully confident."

"I use it all the time."

"That doesn't make it less creepy."

She pats my knee. "Relax. The only thing you've got to worry about tonight is whether you can still two-step."

I bark out a laugh. "That ship sailed years ago."

"It'll come back."

"I seriously doubt it."

She shoots me a sideways grin. "Good thing cowboy bars aren't just for dancing."

The neon sign, Red Dirt, comes into view a few minutes later, glowing against the dark Texas sky. The gravel parking lot is packed with lifted trucks, polished pickups, and enough cowboy hats to outfit a rodeo.

Carla smiles. "We're here."

I look at the crowd spilling toward the entrance and wince. I've never been a big fan of crowds. I mutter, "You know, it's not too late to turn around."

She opens the door and climbs out, then looks back at me. "Look at all the cowboys! You're about to have the best New Year's Eve of your life."

There's no getting around this. Put on your big girl panties.

Cold air brushes my cheeks the second I step out of the car. Muffled country music seeps through the walls of the bar. Groups of people stand outside talking, smoking, and counting down the last few hours of the year.

Carla slides her arm through mine and leads us toward the entrance, swaying her hips and eyeing up several cowboys as we pass. She hands the bouncer two tickets.

"IDs?" His eyes drag over us.

We get IDs out of our clutches, give them to him, and he quickly checks them. He hands them back to us. "Enjoy your night, ladies." He opens the door and steps back.

A fiddle sings over the speakers. Boots pound against the dance floor. Somebody whistles from the back of the room while another group erupts into laughter loud enough to compete with the band.

Warm air wraps around me, carrying the scent of beer, barbecue, leather, and perfume.

I glance around the bar. Every table and stool is taken. Cowboy hats outnumber baseball caps by at least twenty to one.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Carla yells toward me.

I nod, glancing at all the sharp jawlines and shadowed stares.

She grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd, pushing past people. Several call out her name every few steps. One woman she hugs. Several men kiss her on the cheek. Then she promises someone she'll stop by their parents' house soon, even though she told me yesterday she's leaving Whispering Junction in the past and never coming back to this town after she gets to Houston.

We get to the bar, and several men step aside to make room for us. One asks, "Carla, save me a dance?"

She bats her eyes. "You feeling lucky tonight, Troy?"

He grins. "Yes, ma'am. What are you and…" He looks at me.