smile that almost blistered her nail polish.
She laughed and hooked her arm through his. "Spider, you do wonders for a lady's ego."
"Got your dancin' shoes on?"
She held out her foot to show him her taupe wedges. "But I've never done any—what's it called?"
"Kicker dancing. I guess they don't have many honky-tonks in your neck of the woods. Don't worry, you'll catch on."
She picked up her purse and wrap from Spider's bed, managing to accomplish the feat without a lingering glance at the red sheets. Doing a shuffling sashay, he linked his arm with hers, and they left the room with Spider bouncing and singing a nasal, "Deep within my heart ..."
A few minutes later, they climbed out of the Silverado and walked through the crowded parking lot to a pink stucco hacienda with a tile roof and Christmas lights in the bushes. A bright yellow sign over the entrance proclaimed it to be the San Antone Rose.
Thumping country music and shouts of "Ahh-hh-ha!" hit them as the door opened. The energy of the room bounced off the walls and set adrenaline surging through her blood.
Three bars, liberally decorated with neon cacti and maps of Texas, were doing a brisk business. People were everywhere, and a disc jockey spun records from behind a stuccoed wall covered with Tex-Mex graffiti. Most of the place was so smoky and shadowed that for a moment Anne couldn't see clearly. Spider bent near her ear and shouted, "Hang on to me, and we ’ ll find the others."
"Hey, Spider!" someone yelled from across the room.
They peered through the crowd to see Roscoe waving his baseball cap, and, with a bit of judicious twisting and weaving, they found their way to the table near the dance floor. Anne greeted Roscoe and Trish, then smiled as Spider made introductions to Wally and Lisa.
Barely were they seated when a cocktail waitress in a cowboy hat stood ready to take their orders. "It's Saturday night. Longnecks are fifty cents for another hour."
"Beer okay?" Spider asked Anne over the bustle of bodies, loud conversation, and floor-shaking music.
"Fine," she answered after checking the drinks of the others, all of whom were holding tall bottles. With antlered deer heads, longhorns, and Mexican posters mounted on the walls, the atmosphere hardly seemed appropriate for the white wine she preferred.
It was difficult to talk over the noise of the room, but she thanked Lisa, a redhead in a kelly-green sweater and slacks, for the decorating help. "I really appreciate it."
Lisa gave her a broad smile. "I was glad to do it. I hope you like it. God knows, the shape that room was in, anything would have been an improvement. Sorry I didn't have more time, but Spider said it was a rush job. I ’ ll come one day next week and help you finish it if you'd like."
"I'd love i t."
"Come on, sugar, let's do a little two-stepping." Spider grabbed Anne by the hand and pulled her up.
"But I don't know how."
"Nothing to it. Watch my feet," he said as they headed around the railing of the dance floor. He did a few steps and said, "You do that and I’ll do the rest. It's easy once you get the rhythm."
After a couple of false starts and lots of laughter, she discovered it was easy. And fun. They were soon two-stepping around the room with the counterclockwise flow of the other dancers. Spider's lead was strong and sure, and he was an excellent dancer.
"You're really good," she said.
"Sure I'm good. I had years of practice tippy-toeing away from all those beefers in the pads and helmets."
"Modest, too."
He laughed, twirled her around, then brought her back to his arms.
Between sipping beer and laughing with the others at their table. Spider taught her to polka, and Roscoe insisted on showing her the Texas swing. Wally, who was even taller than Spider and must have weighed three hundred pounds, led her into a waltz. He was amazingly graceful. In no time at all, she learned to recognize songs by Willie and Waylon and Reba and Randy.
"It's time for a pit
She laughed and hooked her arm through his. "Spider, you do wonders for a lady's ego."
"Got your dancin' shoes on?"
She held out her foot to show him her taupe wedges. "But I've never done any—what's it called?"
"Kicker dancing. I guess they don't have many honky-tonks in your neck of the woods. Don't worry, you'll catch on."
She picked up her purse and wrap from Spider's bed, managing to accomplish the feat without a lingering glance at the red sheets. Doing a shuffling sashay, he linked his arm with hers, and they left the room with Spider bouncing and singing a nasal, "Deep within my heart ..."
A few minutes later, they climbed out of the Silverado and walked through the crowded parking lot to a pink stucco hacienda with a tile roof and Christmas lights in the bushes. A bright yellow sign over the entrance proclaimed it to be the San Antone Rose.
Thumping country music and shouts of "Ahh-hh-ha!" hit them as the door opened. The energy of the room bounced off the walls and set adrenaline surging through her blood.
Three bars, liberally decorated with neon cacti and maps of Texas, were doing a brisk business. People were everywhere, and a disc jockey spun records from behind a stuccoed wall covered with Tex-Mex graffiti. Most of the place was so smoky and shadowed that for a moment Anne couldn't see clearly. Spider bent near her ear and shouted, "Hang on to me, and we ’ ll find the others."
"Hey, Spider!" someone yelled from across the room.
They peered through the crowd to see Roscoe waving his baseball cap, and, with a bit of judicious twisting and weaving, they found their way to the table near the dance floor. Anne greeted Roscoe and Trish, then smiled as Spider made introductions to Wally and Lisa.
Barely were they seated when a cocktail waitress in a cowboy hat stood ready to take their orders. "It's Saturday night. Longnecks are fifty cents for another hour."
"Beer okay?" Spider asked Anne over the bustle of bodies, loud conversation, and floor-shaking music.
"Fine," she answered after checking the drinks of the others, all of whom were holding tall bottles. With antlered deer heads, longhorns, and Mexican posters mounted on the walls, the atmosphere hardly seemed appropriate for the white wine she preferred.
It was difficult to talk over the noise of the room, but she thanked Lisa, a redhead in a kelly-green sweater and slacks, for the decorating help. "I really appreciate it."
Lisa gave her a broad smile. "I was glad to do it. I hope you like it. God knows, the shape that room was in, anything would have been an improvement. Sorry I didn't have more time, but Spider said it was a rush job. I ’ ll come one day next week and help you finish it if you'd like."
"I'd love i t."
"Come on, sugar, let's do a little two-stepping." Spider grabbed Anne by the hand and pulled her up.
"But I don't know how."
"Nothing to it. Watch my feet," he said as they headed around the railing of the dance floor. He did a few steps and said, "You do that and I’ll do the rest. It's easy once you get the rhythm."
After a couple of false starts and lots of laughter, she discovered it was easy. And fun. They were soon two-stepping around the room with the counterclockwise flow of the other dancers. Spider's lead was strong and sure, and he was an excellent dancer.
"You're really good," she said.
"Sure I'm good. I had years of practice tippy-toeing away from all those beefers in the pads and helmets."
"Modest, too."
He laughed, twirled her around, then brought her back to his arms.
Between sipping beer and laughing with the others at their table. Spider taught her to polka, and Roscoe insisted on showing her the Texas swing. Wally, who was even taller than Spider and must have weighed three hundred pounds, led her into a waltz. He was amazingly graceful. In no time at all, she learned to recognize songs by Willie and Waylon and Reba and Randy.
"It's time for a pit
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