Page 62 of The Cowboy and the Baby

Another nod, and I wanted to smack the men in her life upside the head. What good were men if they couldn’t even open a door for a lady? When a woman had to ask if something belonged in a gentleman’s code, the world had failed.

Breath plumed in front of her as she joined my side, clustering closer than I expected. I offered my arm. She took it, still thoroughly distracted by the country music pouring out. The heat of her hand in the crook of my elbow was a head-whirling drug. A cloud plumed in front of her when she spoke.

“It’s so . . .”

“Old?”

“Western.” Her lips twitched. “I was going to say western.”

I sagely said, “This is Wyoming, Noelle.”

“Never more so western than now.”

Her gaze continued to dart around as we ducked under a timber awning, and I reached for a handle that looked like a bear paw. Time and grease had worn details away. The owner hadn’t bothered to repaint. Most locals considered it part of the charm, but the older I got, the less charming it became. Sometimes, it was just nasty.

Inside, a teeming mass of bodies, blaring music, and the heady scent of sourdough bread awaited.

In the doorway, Noelle paused for so long that I set my fingertips on her shoulder to gesture her ahead. She advanced, a bemused half-smile on her face. It made me think of how Alice in Wonderland might have looked when she first entered Wonderland.

Nineties country hits slammed into us all at once. The smell of beer, bodies, and fried potatoes followed. I inhaled the textured memories that arose. Ah. Youth.

Thud-thump-thuds and muffled shouts cut through the ruckus, trembling the ground just enough to notice. The packed dance floor occupied the entire right side of the two-story building, which was decorated to match a barn. Rafters filled a soaring overhead ceiling, complete with aged decorations, like oil lanterns suspended by fraying ropes, wagon wheels, and hay bales. The open space created the perfect opportunity for chaos and cacophony.

A long bar stretched across the left side, along with tables, swilling patrons, and hustling waitresses. Bottles gleamed in the low light, offering every kind of alcohol I’d ever heard of. An energy unlike anywhere else vibrated the air here.

Noelle’s hand fell away from my arm, taking it in with a dawning smile.

“This is great!” she called.

I put a hand on her back, motioned her to the dance floor. Pliable and ready, she moved, slipping sideways through a group of young people until I stopped her at the rim of the dance floor.

The current line dance would end soon; I knew the song, recognized the winding down notes as they trilled lower and the speed clipped. Breathless, red-faced dancers laughed as they gave into the final burst. It cut off all at once. Dancers dissolved like glitter, roving to all sides. I pulled her closer and spoke directly into her ear.

“They usually alternate line dances into the music, but the rest is sort of free form with high-speed country dances. We’ll see what they come up with next, but it probably won’t be that rigid. Follow me, and I’ll guide you through.”

“I’ve never done this!”

I smiled. “I assumed. Just remember: dancing is about letting go.”

Her eyes met mine, startling me.

“Letting go?”

The queuing excitement built in my gut. The thought of whirling around the dance floor, whipping Noelle in time with the music, moving with the song. It used to give me a physical thrill that I chased every Saturday night.

Now?

Not as often, but Noelle had already changed that equation. When her wide emerald eyes quietly implored mine, I felt the familiar rush of elation. Excitement. Something bigger than the everyday routine, and far more real than whatever else I’d been doing the last five or six years. I hadn’t felt this excited about something in . . .

. . . a decade?

“It’s my job to make dancing easy,” I called over increasing yells and shouts. “Do you trust me?”

I lifted my hand, palm open. Noelle immediately set hers in mine.

“Yes.”

My stomach tightened. That word, that immediate response, the clearness of her curious stare, cut me through. I’d do anything for her, and anything for that childlike trust. My fingers clamped around hers, and I unleashed my dancing grin. The music queued up, like I had planned it.