From the Boots Up (12 page)

The crowd quieted a bit, waiting for her to continue.

Meg felt all the blood drain from her face.

“A few of you might know her. And if you don’t, you
should.” Gina paused again, gaze sweeping the crowd until it found her. “Meg
Tallmadge, happy birthday! This one’s for you.”

The crowd exploded with cheers and Meg was suddenly
surrounded, people laughing and clapping her on the back.

The music started and Meg recognized the tune immediately.
One of her favorites, The Dixie Chicks’ “There’s Your Trouble.” Somebody took
the half-empty bottle out of her hand and replaced it with a fresh beer. She
gripped it automatically, staring at Gina, who was waiting for her cue. It came
and she launched into the song.

Meg’s jaw dropped and the crowd quieted as Gina
belted the lyrics in a low-down bluesy voice that could undress you from the
next room. Hell, from the next building.

“Damn,” the guy next to Meg said again.

Meg stared, her boots rooted to the floor like they
had nails through the toes. This was far worse than a crush, and far worse than
an attraction.

Gina hit the chorus and her eyes drilled into Meg’s,
even from the stage, as she sang that she shouldn’t keep holding on, not to the
wrong one. “There’s your trouble,” she growled as she smiled playfully around
the words and reached a hand out toward Meg as if entreating her to go ahead
and give her a whirl, that the right one was right here. Meg clutched the
bottle, oblivious to the crowd, caught in Gina’s eyes, wondering if anyone had
ever had an orgasm without being touched. As Gina kept singing, she figured she’d
probably find out.

She finished another verse and hit the chorus again,
directed it again at Meg. The crowd started singing along with her, raising
their drinks in the air and stomping in time to the beat, putting extra emphasis
on “there’s your trouble.” The song ended and the crowd broke into cheers that
shook the tin roof. Gina waited a few moments then started singing “Happy
Birthday” a cappella, smiling at Meg as she did. The crowd joined in
immediately and raised drinks first to Meg then to Gina, cheering and whooping.

Gina’s performance brought down the house and put an
end to the karaoke. A Shania Twain song blared from the speakers and dancers
filled the small floor. Still stunned, Meg automatically took a sip from the
fresh beer. Jackson hugged her around the neck with one arm. “City slicker sure
can rip ’em,” he said appreciatively. “Happy birthday, gal.”

“Thanks.” She glanced around the crowd, looking for
Gina, but didn’t see her. She turned and bumped into Davey, who glared down at
her.

“So that’s how it is,” he said, beer and disgust on
his breath. “I thought so.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured she was a damn—”

“Don’t say it,” she warned. “Don’t even fucking think
it. Because whatever you say about her, you’re saying the same thing about me.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” she snapped. “So think long and
hard before you run your mouth.”

His jaw muscles clenched and she tightened her grip
on her bottle. Prick.

“Problem?” came Jackson’s voice behind her.

“Not with me personally,” she said.

He shifted his gaze to Davey and waited for him to
say something. He didn’t. Instead, he shot Meg another glare before he turned
his back on her and pushed through the crowd.

“Anything I should know?” Jackson asked her.

“Just that he’s a shit.”

He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled down at
her. “Got that figured out already. Should I worry about anything else?”

She thought about Davey lurking in the parking lot,
waiting for her or Gina. “Let’s hope not.”

He released her shoulder. “Floyd’s been keeping an
eye on him.” He gave her an innocent little shrug. “And he’s done putting up
with his bullshit.”

Relief flooded her chest. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s your birthday, gal. Go have some fun and
don’t think about him. We’ve got you covered.”

She relaxed and gave him a smile. She felt better
already.

He moved away just as another group of people came by
with birthday wishes. She didn’t recognize half, but she thanked them, shook
hands, and returned friendly half-hugs. After a few more minutes in the crowd,
she suddenly felt claustrophobic and overheated so she made her way to the
patio, where she hoped the night air would clear her head. A few people occupied
a table in the far corner, talking. They ignored her. Muted light from the bar
spilled from the open door and a solitary street light in the corner of the
dirt parking lot provided contrasting shadows. She walked to the railing and
gripped the smooth, cold metal with one hand, Gina’s voice still echoing in her
head.

“Happy birthday.”

Meg turned.

Gina watched her, another glass of tequila in her
hand. She seemed a little uncertain. “Jackson said you came out here.”

“I. . .” Meg started. She shrugged helplessly and
instead touched her beer bottle to Gina’s glass.

Gina visibly relaxed. “I was afraid you’d freak out.”

She shook her head in an “I-can’t-believe-this”
motion. “That was. . .damn. Where’d you learn to sing like that?”

She shrugged and leaned in a little. “I was inspired,”
she said, her voice low.

“No one’s ever. . .damn.”

Gina watched her, swirling the tequila in the glass
with the slow motion of her hand. “Tell me something.”

She waited, and the expression in Gina’s eyes made
her bones melt.

“What does a girl have to do to get you to make a
play for her?”

Meg’s stomach dropped to her bootheels. “Ask.”

A smile reminiscent of a long, languid afternoon
broke across Gina’s lips. “So all I really had to do. . .”

“I didn’t say it would work,” she said drolly, trying
to control the pounding of her heart. “Though the song was a nice touch.”

Gina looked down at her glass then back at her. “So let’s
just say—hypothetically, of course—” she was still smiling, “that
every time I look at you and every time I think about you, it takes my breath
away.”

“Hypothetically?” This had to be some kind of dream.

“Hypothetically.” Gina squeezed the wedge of lime
into her tequila. She kept her eyes on Meg’s.

She nodded, affecting a thoughtful air. “I’d say you
should definitely ask.”

Gina dropped the lime into the glass. “So how about
it?”

“Are we still talking hypothetically?” She raised her
eyebrows and grinned playfully. She was amazed at how steady her voice sounded.
The expression in Gina’s eyes sent her blood galloping between her thighs, a
stampede of longing.

“No,” Gina said with a smile that could have melted a
glacier. “We’re not.” She leaned in close to her ear and her breath was warm on
her face. “Make a play for me, Cowgirl,” she said softly, and Meg felt Gina’s
lips brush her cheek delicately, fleeting. Like butterfly wings. She pulled
away and held Meg’s gaze with her own for a beat before glancing at her lips,
then back at her eyes.

Meg’s emotions must have been plain on her face
because Gina’s mouth quirked in another smile and something shifted between
them, setting the air ablaze. Gina turned and walked back to the entrance into
the bar. She stopped at the doorway and looked back at her before she
disappeared inside.

Meg followed, ignoring the admonitions she’d given
herself all week. What did they matter now, anyway? She set her nearly full
bottle down on a nearby table and said a few quick goodbyes to the Diamond Rock
crowd, thanking them. She reminded Mark that she had the next day off, and
before he could say anything else, she pushed through the crowd out the front
entrance.

Gina stood just outside, waiting, hands in her front
pockets. When she saw her, she smiled. “Need a ride?”

“You offering? Or teasing?” she shot back, pleased to
see Gina’s eyebrows rise though she continued to smile.

Gina motioned with her head across the parking lot
and turned, leading Meg through the rows of trucks and SUVs, some so close
together that their side mirrors nearly touched. She had parked in the farthest
corner, the Pathfinder’s passenger side a yard from a low cinderblock wall that
served as a boundary between the River Rest and a large pasture. Highway 130
skirted the far edge of the pasture and Meg could hear the lone grumble of a
big truck headed north, along with the faint strains of country music emanating
from the bar. The only light in this stretch of the lot came from the sliver of
moon overhead.

Gina opened the passenger door. “It’s not a horse,”
she said softly. “But it’ll have to do.”

Meg moved close enough to feel Gina’s body heat. She
reached past her and shut the door, then used her own body to back her against
the side of the Pathfinder. She didn’t care if this was just a fling for Gina.
She didn’t care that she lived in Los Angeles, and she didn’t even care if
anyone saw. All that mattered was how it felt to be this close to her, pressed
against her in a way that made her heart pound, made chills tear up and down
her spine.

She cupped Gina’s face in her hands, and stroked the
lines of her cheeks with both thumbs. She heard Gina’s breathing speed up as
she moved her hands to Meg’s hips, so she brought her lips closer to Gina’s,
barely touching them. Heat and moisture gathered between her thighs and a
growing ache spread across her nerve endings, engulfed her senses.

Gina’s breath was hot and quick on her mouth before
Meg kissed her, a slow, sultry meeting of lips that tasted like tequila and a
week’s worth of longing. The first turned into a second then a third and
countless more as Gina welcomed Meg’s tongue into her mouth with a soft groan
and her hands journeyed across Meg’s back as she returned her kisses with
increasing fervor.

Meg worked her arms around Gina and pulled her away
from the Pathfinder so she could run her hands over Gina’s back. She broke the
kiss and dragged her lips along Gina’s jawline to one ear, tracing it gently
with the tip of her tongue.

“Oh, God,” Gina muttered as she buried her fingers in
Meg’s hair. She moved her head and Meg tracked her lips lightly down her neck,
the way she smelled bringing her blood to a boil.

Gina kissed her again, hard, moving against her like
a promise and Meg matched every motion, forgetting anything that held her to
this earth. Her breath came in short bursts as she followed Gina’s lead,
returned each hungry kiss, allowed what she felt to surface and wash through
her like a river. She pulled Gina’s shirt from her jeans and slid her hands underneath,
her fingertips reveling in the smooth warmth of Gina’s skin.

Gina’s hands tangled in her hair again, and she
blazed kisses across her lips. She pushed Meg’s hair aside to kiss her neck and
Meg moaned, wondering if she had managed to soak through her jeans.

“Take me somewhere,” she said softly against Gina’s
cheek, struggling to control her pounding heart.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Gina
whispered back. She slowly released her hold and Meg reluctantly pushed away
but she leaned in again for another quick kiss that turned into several more
before she finally stopped and opened the passenger door.

“Where are you staying now?” she asked.

“The Rustic.”

“Then that’s where I want to go.”

Gina smiled and brushed a lock of hair away from
Meg’s eyes before she went around to the driver’s side. They didn’t speak on
the short ride to the hotel, but that was okay because their shared silence was
charged with expectation and desire, something that was both comfortable and
exciting.

Gina pulled into the parking lot of the hotel and she
got out and came around to the passenger’s side, but she didn’t even wait for
Meg to get out of her seat before she pulled Meg’s face down to hers and kissed
her like she hadn’t seen her in a while. When she stopped, Meg joined her
outside the Pathfinder and Gina shut the door, quietly, and kissed her again,
and Meg forgot that they might be spotted, that somebody might see, but it didn’t
matter because Gina held her close and danced slowly with her in the light of
the waning moon, the sound of the nearby North Platte a chorus to “There’s Your
Trouble,” which she sang softly in her ear. And it was heaven, swaying with
Gina, feeling warmth and desire within her arms, and maybe new beginnings forge
in the heat that built between them. Just like heaven.

She finally released her with an effort and let her
hands slide down Gina’s arms until she was holding both of her hands. “Let’s go
in.”

“Are you sure?”

Meg kissed her and she groaned softly against her
mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she whispered.

“Smart girl.” She smiled, because Gina made her feel
deliciously reckless, made her feel like she wanted to cram the past week into
a night, and hold on tight to whatever time she could get with her. And if this
was the one night she’d get, then she wanted it now, and she wanted it to be
memorable. “Which room?”

“Upstairs.” She led her up the wooden steps, and Meg
was glad she’d picked the Rustic, because all the rooms exited to the outside.
Even better, she’d gotten the balcony room on the end.

Gina had the key ready and she unlocked the door and
pushed it open. She’d left one of the bedside lamps on, near the bed by the
window. Her duffle bags were on the bed closest to the door.

Meg paused on the threshold. “What about you?” she
asked as she brushed a kiss across Gina’s lips. “Are
you
sure?”

She smiled, a secret unveiled. “Since I first saw
you.” And she pulled her into the room and closed and locked the door. The curtain
whispered and fluttered in night breezes, just out of reach of the bedside lamp,
and a car door slammed from the parking lot as Gina kissed her again. They
ended up at the bed closest to the window, where the river’s murmur just
reached.