Chapter 10

TAMMY

Ihad mailed out all the promotional postcards that we sent to new customers, returned all the voicemail messages, and helped Lindsey sweep the floor. One o'clock was my lunch break, and I was still too poor to eat out. Instead, I took a peanut butter sandwich I had made at Macy's house into the back. Lindsey gave us all free bottled water from a fridge in the office, so I grabbed one and sat down.

I was scrolling my phone when the screen lit up with a phone call. The caller ID was unknown, but the number was a local Tennessee area code. I wondered who could be calling me. Macy's number was in my contacts, and I didn't know anyone else in town. A sudden ray of hope shot through me, confirmed when I answered the call.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hello, Tammy?" Mike asked.

"Mike." I cheered silently, throwing a little party inside my head.

When he'd asked for my number, I was overjoyed. At the time that we met, all I had been looking for was one night of passion, but it had become clear to me that I needed more. Even after two weeks, Mike was my first thought in the morning and my last thought before bed. I was dying of curiosity. I wanted to know everything about him—why he stayed in Singer's Ridge, what he did at the lumberyard, what he was looking for in a girlfriend. I wanted to know what he did on Friday nights and what kind of music he liked. I wanted to know if he thought of me like I thought of him, and I guessed he had some feelings when he had stormed back into the salon to demand my number.

Now here he was on the phone, and I was thrilled.

"Did I catch your lunch break?" he asked.

"Yeah," I said, trying to sound normal. "What about you, are you on lunch?"

"Yeah. I was wondering if you wanted to go get some drinks tonight?"

I didn't have to think about it at all, but I had been dating long enough to know when to pause for effect. I held my breath, counting to five. "Sure," I said casually.

"Pick you up at seven?"

"Oh, I think I can borrow Macy's car." I wasn't sure if this date would escalate as quickly as our last one did, but I wanted an out just in case.

"Sure," he agreed. "Meet at the Lady at eight?"

"I'll be there," I promised.

He hung up so soon it was almost shocking. There were no stupid goodbyes or long-winded conversations. I was beginning to understand that Mike was a man who said what he meant and didn't mince words. I didn't mind it at all.

Happiness bubbled from my gut, shining through my eyes and my smile as I finished my meager lunch and went back to work. As soon as I hit the receptionist's desk, Lindsey could see that something had changed. She came over when her customer was finished and nudged me.

"Did he call?" she guessed.

"Yes," I said, looking up from my console.

"And?" Lindsey grabbed one of the waiting chairs and pulled it over to sit down next to me.

"He asked me out."

"When? Where?"

"Tonight. Drinks," I answered.

"That's so exciting!" Lindsey gushed, "I knew you guys would hit it off. He was sneaking glances at you in the mirror while he was getting his hair cut."

"He was?" I gasped.

Lindsey nodded profusely, not hiding her giddiness very well.

I felt my face flush. Maybe Mike was more into me than I thought. It gave me butterflies deep in my stomach thinking of him and his pickup truck. The smell of the lumberyard in the morning had never left my nostrils. He was more of a man than anyone I had ever dated before.

"What are you gonna wear?" Lindsey asked.

"Oh." I hadn't considered that. I had a few dresses in storage, but I hadn't brought a lot of clothing to Macy's house. "I have a nice pair of jeans and this blouse with blue flowers on it," I said.

"What about a dress?" Lindsey suggested. "Or a skirt. I have this little blue skirt, almost like a tennis skirt, that would go great with your flower blouse."

I hesitated, thinking of the mess I had made of Macy's little black dress. "I don't want to impose."

"Everyone in these parts wears jeans," Lindsey said, shrugging off my reluctance. "When do you ever have the chance to dress up?"

I laughed, "Never, but—"

"But nothing," Lindsey interrupted. "I can tell that we're the same size. Anything I can do to make your night the best or boost your confidence is worth it."

"Thanks," I said, blushing. "I have a confession to make."

"Go ahead."

"I slept with him on the first date," I admitted, looking around to see if anyone else had heard. All the other clients were busy with their heads in sinks or blow-drying machines. The stylists were focused on their work.

Lindsey leaned forward. "I may have rushed into things with my husband as well," she assured me. "But it all worked out in the end."

"I don't think I'll marry Mike," I said quickly.

"You never know, Singer's Ridge can surprise you." Lindsey responded. "But I'll leave that conversation to you two."

I shrugged. I wondered if Mike knew how many people in my life were pushing us toward each other. "Okay, I'll take you up on that tennis skirt," I decided.

"Perfect," Lindsey said. "You can come home with me after work, and I can show you how to get to Macy's house from there."

"Okay," I agreed, not sure how much I enjoyed the idea of hiking through the woods.

We finished up with our last client around six, and after cleaning the floors and counting the till, we were ready to go. I texted Macy to let her know the plan. She texted back a string of heart emojis that summed up her feelings without words. Lindsey drove to the daycare, picked up Mary Ellen, and strapped her into a car seat.

"Mommy!" the little girl cried, fisting her hands in Lindsey's long blonde hair.

Lindsey climbed back into the driver's seat and took us to her cabin, which was just a little bit further away from town than Macy's. It was a different access road, but very similar in its pitch. We climbed up into the mountains, leaving civilization behind. The cabin looked a little bit smaller than Macy's from the outside and had a smaller common area when we opened the door.

Lindsey set Mary Ellen down and went immediately to her own bedroom. "Come with me," she said, waving me down a small hallway.

I followed obediently, leaving Mary Ellen to play by herself. Lindsey opened her closet, sifting through a large collection of formal and casual wear.

"You have a lot of really nice clothes," I observed.

She blushed. "I know it's more than most people have, but I like dressing up. I used to have more… but that's a story for another day."

"I only brought one suitcase," I admitted.

"We'll have to take you shopping," Lindsey said.

"I have more in storage," I added.

"We could still go shopping." She found what she was looking for and held it out. "Try it on." She picked out a blouse as well, a blue silk number with buttons down the front. It was way fancier than anything I owned. "Just because you might not have time to pick up your own shirt," she explained.

I took the two items into the bathroom and changed. They fit me perfectly and made me look like a sophisticated woman. I turned to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, loving the way the skirt accentuated my backside. I stepped out to model the clothing for Lindsey. She had returned to the living room and was sitting on the floor with Mary Ellen in her lap, a tower of blocks stacked before them.

"I love it!" Lindsey said.

"Thank you," I answered. "I promise I'll take good care of them."

"Don't worry about it." She shrugged off my anxiety. "Just have fun."

I let myself out of my boss's house, scanning the clearing until I found the first white blaze. The sun was going down, and I knew I had to hurry before I lost the light. The path was well-defined, clear of any rocks or sticks and straight as it could possibly be. There was one tough climb to the top of a hill, and then the rest of the hike was downhill to Macy's cabin. By the time I got to one painted tree, I could see the next, so there was no danger of getting lost.

My temporary home appeared before I knew it, and I climbed the porch steps to knock on the door. Macy answered it and waved me in, revealing the entire family at the dinner table.

"You look great!" Macy said enthusiastically.

"You have another date?" Dillon asked.

I nodded.

"Will you be here in the morning?" Nicky asked.

I blushed. "I think so."

"Well, go on." Macy put her keys in my hand. "You don't want to be late."

I kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"Let us know if you need help," Dillon said before turning back to his children. He was always prioritizing our safety and it was nice.

I nodded, slipping out the door and out into the driveway. I climbed into Macy's car and started the engine. It was rapidly becoming apparent that I would need to get my own ride. I wasn't sure I would have enough money to get a car and an apartment. The more money I needed to save, the longer it meant I would have to camp out in Macy's laundry room.

I didn't want to think about that tonight, however. Tonight was for reconnecting with Mike. I would see if there was really something there, or if I had just become obsessed with a fantasy. I pulled into the parking lot at exactly eight o'clock. Grabbing my purse and shutting off the engine, I climbed out. Mike was there, waiting outside for me. I walked toward him on high heels, in my expensive tennis skirt, feeling like a million bucks.

He was dressed casually in jeans and a button-down shirt, open at the collar. He kissed me without pretext, not as hungry as before, but friendly and gentle. I reciprocated, allowing it to go as far as it needed to go. The brush of another couple entering the bar brought us out of our trance. Mike held the door open, and I slipped through it. Suddenly, this small-town night spot seemed more romantic than the French Riviera. Mike scouted one open table in the back and led me to it. There was a live country band playing on a small stage in the corner, and people were packed in, drinking and dancing.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked him.

"Maybe later," he said. "Have you eaten?"

I shook my head.

"Let's have dinner first," he decided with a wink. "I'm afraid my dancing won't impress you."

I laughed. He didn't have to worry about impressing me, I realized. I was already impressed. We sat for a moment in silence, and then we both began speaking at once.

"I want to—" he said.

"I think I should—" I began.

We both broke off, laughing.

"You first," he said.

"No," I argued.

"I know you said you were looking for a one-night stand," he spilled his heart out, "but I couldn't stop thinking about you."

"Me too," I breathed.

"This doesn't have to be anything more than a second date," he said hurriedly.

"Right," I agreed. We could take it easy and not make a big deal out of it.

"We don't have to rush," he added.

My heart skipped a beat. I had been wondering how I felt about another mad dash to his house, whether that was what I wanted or not. The truth was, I just wanted to talk to him, to get to know him better. And if what he said was true, we could always meet up for sex later. I felt both relaxed and energized when the waitress came to take our order.

"What'll you have?" the woman asked, pen in hand.

I ordered a chicken wrap, something that would tide me over for the night but not make me feel full. Mike ordered fish and chips, claiming that it was the beer making him crave fried foods.

"We'll have two oyster shooters too," he said before the waitress left. "Have you ever had one?"

I shook my head.

"They're hot and slimy," he laughed.

I hesitated. "I'm not sure if I want to eat one, then."

"Just trust me, it's delicious."

The waitress returned to refill our drinks and set two shot glasses down in the center of the table. Each one was full of a red sauce, with a hint of white oyster soaking in the bottom. Mike picked them both up and offered one to me.

"You have to down it in one shot," he said.

"Okay." I prepared myself.

Mike counted us down, and when he got to three, I tilted my head back and let the concoction slide down my throat. He had been right. The sauce was hot, and the oyster was slimy, slithering down to my stomach as the red pepper burned my tongue. I coughed, dropping the shot glass to the table as if it had been full of tequila.

"Wow, that was interesting." I said.

"Does this night rate a tequila chaser?" he asked.

I shook my head desperately.

Mike laughed.

I took a long plug off my beer to try to regain composure. A moment later, I felt warm, as if the combination of protein and spice was adding its own magic to the alcohol. Dinner came and I ate half, saving half for later. Mike encouraged me to steal his fries, and by the end of the night, we were half-drunk, half-full, and one hundred percent relaxed. I got him to dance a few times while we waited for the buzz to wear off.

The band wasn't that good. They were a couple of tax accountants who got together on the weekends and booked local gigs. But they were good enough to dance to. When the prerequisite line dance came around, I grabbed Mike by the hand and led him to the dance floor. He had two left feet and kept turning when he should have been kicking and kicking when he should have been turning. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to die, struggling back to the table to sit down. He plopped down next to me, grinning happily.

"This is the best time I've had in a long time," Mike said softly, the humor in his eyes smoldering to embers.

"Me too," I said, forcing my breathing to slow.

"Last call!" the bartender announced.

"Oh my gosh." I checked my phone. It was approaching one in the morning. "I have to be at work early tomorrow."

"Can I see you again?" Mike asked.

"Let me think about it," I teased.

"Or we could just get a hotel room across the street for the night," he suggested. "You'd be right down the street from your work."

I felt my face grow hot, and not with the exertion of dancing. The idea had certainly crossed my mind, but I had to get Macy's car back to her. I accepted option number one. "I'll give you another date."

"Okay." He nodded.

I stood up. "See you."

"We're not doing that again," he said, rising to his feet.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"That thing where we say goodbye without a kiss," he responded.

"Oh," I breathed.

"I'll walk you to your car." He pointed to the door.

We stepped outside into the night. There were fewer cars now than there had been when we had arrived. Around us, other patrons were streaming out, getting into their rides and turning on engines. Mike followed me to Macy's car, took me in his arms, and leaned me back against the chassis. I felt cold metal press into my backside and the warmth of his chest on the other side.

He kissed me long and slow, and I could still taste the hot sauce on his breath. It had been hours since my last beer, but the kiss left me feeling intoxicated again. I hung on as if in danger of falling. When he stepped back, I had to squash an instinct to leap at him again.

He smiled, genuinely happy. "Good night. Text me when you get home safe, okay?"

I nodded, too elated for words. I didn't trust my knees or my fingers when they lowered me into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. He went around to his truck and waited until I had pulled away. I had to force myself to focus on the road all the way home. Inside, my heart was doing a happy dance, celebrating the beginning of what just might be my one and only true love story.