“Never have I ever… line danced.”
“Challenge accepted,” I say.
Maybe I didn’t just win a date. Maybe I won something better.
FOUR
JESSE
The place is alive when we walk in.
Not overwhelming. Not Strip-chaotic. Just loud enough to feel electric. Boots on wood floors. Laughter rolling over the music. Neon beer signs glowing against knotty pine walls. The band on stage tuning up a fiddle and a steel guitar.
Mindy stops just inside the entrance and turns to me with an expression I’m starting to recognize as trouble.
“We need to do something first.”
I lift a brow. “Already?”
“Wardrobe change.”
I glance down at myself. Black T-shirt. Dark jeans. Boots. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes sweep over me in a way that makes my chest tighten. “But if we’re doing this properly, we need hats.”
“Hats.”
“Yes.”
She grabs my wrist and drags me toward a display wall near the bar. Cowboy hats in every shade imaginable line the rack.
“You’re taking this very seriously.”
“I don’t half-commit,” she says. “You should know that by now.”
I watch her scan the rack like it’s a life-or-death decision. She pulls down a classic black felt hat and holds it up to my head.
“No,” she says immediately.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“You look like you’re about to rob a train.”
I laugh.
She replaces it and grabs a tan one. Tilts it. Squints.
“Better,” she murmurs. “Turn.”
I turn slowly.
She circles me, inspecting like I’m livestock at auction.
“Wow,” I say. “Should I be nervous?”
“Yes,” she says sweetly.
She adjusts the brim, then steps back.
