Gabi
Drinks were flowing, literally. Fox had organised champagne, and it just kept coming. Gabi had to put her hand over her glass to avoid being constantly topped up. She was a lightweight, and she knew it.
‘Is this what we can get used to now, when we come out with you?’ Gabi asked Fox as he popped the cork from the third– or was it the fourth?– bottle. Walker was the only one not drinking anything at all, as he was on call at the station.
‘Yup,’ said Fox. ‘And limousines home afterwards.’
‘I love a limo!’ Gabi laughed. ‘Count me in. What about a holiday house in the French Riviera?’
‘On my list,’ he said. ‘I’ll save a sunbed for you.’
Fox moved on to top up drinks and Gabi caught Walker watching her from across the table. Their eyes met and her breath hitched. He made his move and slid into the empty seat beside her, his knee pressing against hers under the table. Her stomach flipped. She glanced at his hands and shifted on her stool. Now that she’d felt them on her body, she couldn’t seem to think of anything else. It was like she was obsessed.
‘How’s the rest of your week been?’ he asked, bending his head towards her. His breath tickled her earlobe.
‘Been quite boring since I last saw you actually,’ she said with a tilt of her chin. ‘All physio and no play makes Gabi a dull girl. . .’
‘You need some light entertainment.’ Walker’s tone was serious, but his eyes were twinkling.
‘I need a pick-me-up, that’s for sure,’ Gabi agreed, lifting her chin to him, meeting his mischief with a bite of her lip. His eyes widened and he was just beginning to smile when a fiddle began to play, and Walker broke the look to glance at the stage.
‘You’re in the right place,’ he said, putting a cowboy hat on his head.
‘It’syeehatime,’ said Fox, reappearing beside him and securing his own Stetson. The spotlights illuminated the stage and a singer stepped out with a tambourine. A second later Fox, Etienne and Walker bowed to the girls and took to the dance floor, forming a line. Other men joined at each end until it stretched right the way across the room. They had their backs to the stage, facing the audience. A second fiddle began to play, and all the men tucked their thumbs in their belt loops.
The woman on stage started to sing and the tambourine kept time. Gabi nearly spat out her champagne as the men began to line dance, as one, in step. Right heel out and dip. Left heel out and dip. Grapevine right. Grapevine left. Turn ninety degrees. Clap. They didn’t even need a caller, it seemed like they knew the dance by heart.
Women lined the edge of the dance floor now, clapping along, geeing them up. The men carried on doing their thing, getting into the rhythm, enjoying their moment. Now they were facing the stage, the women could appreciate the rear view, and the noise levels were rising.
‘They’re good, aren’t they?’ Amber said. ‘Fox, Walker and Et have been coming for years.’
Gabi made an effort to close her mouth. They were so synchronised, so sure of themselves and so damned sexy. Amber laughed out loud.
‘I know exactly how you feel, girl. Felt it the same first time I saw them,’ she said. ‘Tonight, though, I’m more interested in the band.’ Gabi glanced at the group on stage and saw Alex there on guitar, playing chords with a half-smile and half-closed eyes. Amber was glued. ‘He always was good with his hands,’ she said.
The men turned and clapped again, facing to the left.
Isabella fanned her face. ‘Every girl loves a cowboy,’ she said reverently. ‘I can’t wait to get mine home.’
The line of men turned again and clapped and now they were facing the front and Gabi found her eyes locked with Walker. As if he had turned to her and she had been waiting for him. He dipped his head under his hat in greeting and held her gaze. She felt almost winded, like she had been holding her breath, that it had been him she had been watching all along. She knew there was a whole line of men, but she hadn’t noticed any of them.
‘Holy cow,’ she said under her breath, watching the sway of his hips.
‘You ain’t seen nothing yet,’ said Isabella, licking her lips in anticipation.
Suddenly, the music stopped dead. The crowd held its collective breath. The men simultaneously ripped their shirts apart, buttons flying like confetti at a wedding. They twirled their shirts above their heads like lassos. The men did a low hip roll on the spot, round and round, bare-chested and spotlit, before stopping dead.
‘Yeeha!’ they shouted as one. The Bolthole erupted. The waiting crowd surged the line, unable to hold back any more. Isabella cantered forward and jumped onto Etienne’s waist. Amber muttered something under her breath and moseyed with intention towards the stage door.
Gabi felt like she’d lost the power of speech. Walker’s shoulders were the stuff dreams were made of. He pushed his sandy hair back from his forehead and fist-bumped Fox.
The band started with the next song and new lines were formed, mixed men and women this time. Gabi saw Jesse and Toby take to the floor, the best-groomed cowboys in town. She watched Isabella stake her claim next to Etienne while Fox was swarmed by a handful of single mums from the boys’ school. When they organised themselves into formation for the next dance, she realised she’d lost sight of Walker. She sagged against the table, wanting to be up there, but knowing her crutches would get in everyone’s way. Walker was probably surrounded by women too. He deserved to be. Her mood dropped. She whacked the table leg with her crutch, and it made a satisfying thump.
‘Howdy,’ a Scottish voice said beside her, and she turned directly into his chest, clothed again in a shirt which hung open at the front. She could feel the heat from his body, and he smelled divine.
‘That was quite a show, cowboy,’ she managed. ‘Who knew you had lasso in your box of tricks.’
‘You’d be surprised how useful it is for getting cats out of trees.’
