Page 85 of Worth the Fall
I slid my hand into his again and nodded.
He didn’t ask if I knew this place, which I was grateful for. We walked inside, the atmosphere practically knocking the wind out of me.
A huge open floor, surrounded by wood railings, a live band on a small stage made my heart thump with the rhythm, a long bar with cowhide felt below the seats, it was all exactly what I remembered.
Colton was practically giddy as he watched the group of cowboys and girls all step in line.
We were here to dance.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Colton was stepping inside when he looked back to see my reaction.
I was chuckling nervously in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
He shrugged. “That depends.”
“On?”
“If you’re chicken or not,” he said, surprising me.
I looked at the band on stage. A young cowboy with a guitar backed by a high-energy band. They were putting their heart and souls into every word, every note of the song, with a bass that echoed in my heart.
In the middle of the dance floor, two-steppers were flying, a high-speed blur of cowboy hats and western fringe. The center of the wood floor was a war zone. Over thirty people were standing in a perfect grid. The song shifted, the heavy “stomp-clap” beat of a line dance taking over, and suddenly, they all moved at once.
I chuckled again.
“Well, are you ready?”
This time, Colton didn’t wait for me to respond. His fingers wrapped around the fabric of my dress and pulled gently. I took a breath, praying no one from my high schoolwould see this. “You’ve got a death wish, cowboy.”
He pulled me as close to his face as he could and whispered. “Why do you think I rodeo, cowgirl?” His mouth brushed my ear as he pulled away. “Show me what you’ve got, Ally.”
My hands were clammy and cold. I thought I was going to die right then and there, but he was shuffling back. I was like a magnet being drawn to him, impossible to pull away.
I swallowed hard as I positioned myself beside Colton, praying they would play a song I knew the line dance for.
The odds of that were good; I practically lived here in high school.
The bouncer was my dad’s best friend, and after he died, nobody could tell me what to do or what not to do. I was a rebel teenager, with pink streaks in my hair as my act of revolt. I wanted to be away from my mother and the morgue we called a house as much as possible. So, naturally, I went to a bar that was famous for live music and line dancing.
Not to brag or anything, but I got really good at country line dancing.
The excited energy around us was palpable. The sober and tipsy were anxious for the next song to start so they could jump and dance as one, forgetting they were strangers in a bar. Around the dance floor was the “audience.”
The “audience” was people who were taking a breather from dancing, people too drunk to dance, cowboys too cool to dance, and anyone else you could imagine in an Amarillo bar. They all had their eyes peering at us, making me swallow hard.
How had it been that only a few years ago, I had done this so easily, without a single thought of what anyone else thought?Now, I wasterrified. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of all these strangers, forced to be an amusing memory in their heads forever.
Colton, on the other hand, the man who truly enjoyed being the center of attention, was grinning and looking around the bar.
Gosh, I wanted just a smidge of his confidence, that’s all I asked.
The guitar started in a familiar twinge, sending my heart into a flip-flop. I knew this one by heart; it was one of my favorites, but man, it was hard. Colton was tapping his foot, watching the instructors carefully.
Once the instructors had gone through the dance twice, it was our turn.
We didn’t just stand there; we were slotted into a grid. Ten rows deep, six dancers wide. A sea of pearl snaps, fringe, floral dresses, and a whole lotta cowboy boots, all facing the same direction, waiting for the beat to drop. The air was heavy, like the second before a storm hits.
