Then the song started, and my stomach dropped.
Our song.
The song we used to play parked on one of his uncle’s properties in his pickup truck, windows fogged, my legs across his lap, his thumb tracing circles on my knee.
Lord, I haven’t heard it in years. And now three times in as many days. But this time is different. Different when it’s wrapped in smoke, spotlights, and a man who looks too much like him.
The cowboy wanna-be grabs his hat with a wink and tosses it into the crowd like a grenade.
“Daaaamn, girl!” Celi shouts.
“Touch him again!” Daisy shrieks.
“Grab that belt!” Josie wails.
I should do all of them, and if any of them are up here, they’d do it.
I’m single.
I’m turned on.
But it’s this damn song, throwing me back into memories I’ve secreted away for the safety and security of my heart.
He leans closer, one hand braced beside my chair, the other running over his abs. He’s so close I feel the heat off his skin.
Then he takes my hand and presses it to his chest.
Solid. Warm. Real.
“Get him, cowgirl!” someone yells.
I shake my head, half-laughing, half-fighting the lump in my throat.
His hips start moving again, slower this time, rolling like waves, perfectly in sync with a song that used to mean something tender and sacred.
He drops to his knees in front of me, runs his hands down his thighs, then up mine, only to stop at the edge of decency.
Just enough to make me ache, but not for him.
ForHart.
I don’t even want to think of his name, but I see him, my cowboy, my once-upon-a-time. The boy with dirt under his nails and fire in his smile. The one who sang this song to me once while we danced barefoot on the grassy hill under the sunset.
The crowd screams, dragging me back to the present. Back to the cowboy now on my lap.
The edge of his hat is tipped onto my head as he grinds his hips in the most obscene way imaginable.
Where did he get another Stetson?
But I’m not here anymore.
I’m back under the stars with Hart’s flannel wrapped around my shoulders, and this song playing on the radio.
His voice is in my ear whispering, “Ohh, lover with a slow hand.”
“Girl, you’d better take him home!” Daisy cries.
I smile, but it trembles.
