Page 33 of The Lonely Road

Taya’s mouth curves. “How’s it going?”

“Bree was going to teach me, but then Kaz came along and…you know how that goes.”

She laughs—it’s authentic like the one I noticed at The Rusty Spur. “Oh, do I know!”

“I think those two need to just…you know!”

She grins. “Those two need to be left inside a closed room alone for a few hours. I have a feeling if we did that, they’d sort their differences out.”

I jerk my chin in acknowledgment. “As long as the room has a bed.”

She scoffs. “Those two don’t need a bed.”

She pushes some errant strands of hair off her face. She’s braided her hair today. Her earrings are small silver drops set with turquoise, worn smooth from years of use.

I hold up my plate to her. “Would you like to share with me?”

She swallows. “I…I can get my own plate.”

I hold her gaze. “I know you can.”

She lets out a long breath.

I give her my plate. “How about you take this and find a place for us to sit, and I can go get some more food? Would you like something to drink?”

She studies me carefully and then picks up the plate of brisket. “I wouldn’t mind a beer. Something local they have on draft.”

I can’t stop looking at her.

She’s beautiful, and there’s something in her eyes that tells me she recognizes me, knows me. “Will do, Counselor.”

She finds us a quiet corner at the end of one of the long tables, and I find us more food and a pint each.

We eat, and we talk.

Carefully at first, the way we’ve talked before, but the cold air and the noise and the general loosening effect of being somewhere communal shifts it.

“You’re obviously not from around here—so where are you from?” she asks.

“Why would you say that?”

She lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “You dress like them, but you’re not them.”

“Them?”

“Ranchers,” she explains. She picks up the plastic cup of beer her local draft is in. “I mean, your clothes are…normal for this part of the world. But you don’t have their swagger.”

“What do I have?”

“A different kind of walk.” Now, she smiles. “I’d say military.”

“You would?”

She laughs uncertainly. “I’m cheating now. Bree told me that you told Kaz that you’re ex-military.”

“I grew up in Toledo.”

She wrinkles her nose. “What was that like?”