Chapter Thirteen
Maybelle dropped into a chair and lifted her hair from her neck. “Hoo-ey, all y’all should come join us,” she said as Carolina and Lydia joined her at the table where the men sat sipping their beers. She couldn’t recall having this much fun at last year’s rodeo dances. Of course, a year ago, she’d only been drinking root beer. This year, she was delighted to discover that nothing quenched her thirst quite like a longneck.
“I’ll save my dancing for the slow numbers,” said Colt waggling his eyebrows at his wife.
“I like watchin’ your moves from over here,” Cody admitted to Carolina with a twinkle in his eyes. “With a nice cold beer.”
“What’s your excuse?” Maybelle asked Ty, who was nursing a soda at the far end of the table.
“I don’t dance.”
“Bullshit,” Colt coughed in
