The First Law of Love (25 page)

“I will,” I said. I addressed Wy as I went on, “I usually pick the most expensive thing on the menu, champagne, maybe lobster or a filet…”

“Or elk steak!” Wy said, reaching to rough up my hair.

I was so used to my cousin Clint doing this sort of thing that I evaded Wy and hooked him in a headlock, saying, “
Ha!
”

He struggled and I held, all of us laughing, Case making fun of the boy. I knuckled his scalp before letting him free.

“That'll learn you,” I said, echoing Clint with those words, a little smug as Wy frantically inspected his reflection in the rearview mirror, smoothing his hair.

Case took the exit into Miles City and drove us to a bar on the outskirts of the little town; though in comparison to Jalesville, this town was huge. We pulled into a bumping bar and grill with a gigantic howling wolf's head appearing to break through the roof.

“Oh, wow,” I said, marveling. “Look at that wolf.”

Case gently nudged my arm and noted, “
Coyote
. That's a coyote, lawyer lady.”

I giggled, loving how at ease he seemed, like the way he'd been around the campfire roasting marshmallows. Wy jumped out of the back door and into the parking lot; I could smell steak and grease already and my stomach rumbled. I allowed, “Right. I stand corrected.” I noticed a smudge of dust on the bottom of my t-shirt and swiped at it, saying, “I hope I'm not too underdressed…”

Case was already grinning again. He said, “Are you kidding? For a place called the Coyote's Den?” His tone changed just subtly and I knew he was clearly teasing me, but my heart threw itself against my ribs as he spoke my name, saying, “Tish, you're way
over
dressed for this place.” And then he added quietly, “Besides, you couldn't look more beautiful.”

My eyes flew to his to find him calmly studying me, a half-smile on his lips. I thought of how I'd touched his chin last night. How I wanted to touch every part of him. I wanted to tell him that I had never been so drawn to someone in my life, that I dreamed about him nearly every night, but all I could whisper was, “Thank you.”

“C'mon, you two!” Wy yelled from out in the parking lot, and then he whooped and ran, yelling, “Hey guys!”

“There's Garth and Marsh,” Case said, nodding that direction and it was only with the greatest reluctance that I dragged my eyes from him to see the guys toting their guitars. Case went on, “We're plugged in tonight, so it's a completely different sound.”

“What can I carry?” I asked, following him right out the driver's side door, not wanting to be away from him for even a second.

“You don't have to carry a thing,” he said, and then yelled, “Wy! Get over here!”

Wy bounded back, taking the gear that Case handed him, including a huge black backpack.

“No fiddle tonight?” I asked, disappointed.

“Not tonight,” Case said, effortlessly shouldering another enormous pack. He was so strong. He said, “Maybe you could get the tailgate though…”

I did, slamming it carefully shut, smiling at the
Gotta Ride, Gotta Play
emblem, while Case waited for me. Wy had already started across the blacktop towards the front door, which was framed by a pair of smaller howling coyotes. Music poured from the place, along with the scent of greasy food. Together, our hips less than a foot apart, Case and I walked across the parking lot. I fantasized again that I was his girlfriend and that he would dedicate songs to me all evening, and then afterwards…

Afterwards
…

Oh God
…

I stooped to pat one of the stone coyotes on the nose on the way past, something I would have done as a kid.

“Ranger,” he said and I looked up to find Case holding the door with one shoulder. He grinned and added, “I named them when I was a kid. This place has been here forever.”

“Then what's this guy's name?” I asked, patting the other one.

“Dancer,” he said, shaking his head, cringing a little. “It's so original, I know…”

“I love it,” I said delightedly. “Ranger and Dancer. They go together. Who's the big guy on the roof then?”

Case was still smiling as he answered, “You'll have to name him. I never came up with one.”

Loaded down as he was with gear, he still held the door for me. Inside the Den it was dim and crowded, neon signs lighting up the space, strings of bare-bulb lights in oranges and yellows glowing cheerfully. We had entered through the bar, where the stage was located, but there was another dining room through a double arch on the far side of the bar. A fire roared in a stone fireplace in there.

“We'll stash the gear and then go get a table,” Case said, leaning towards me to deliver these words, and I curbed the urge to pull him right back as he straightened.

Marsh and Garth had already collected Wy and after Case unloaded his gear, the five of us went to eat. I stuck near Case, determined to make sure that we were sitting across from each other.

“Not too close to the fire, it's too hot,” Marsh complained as we all followed the server to a table. He said, “Tish, there's something on your shirt,” and indicated with an extended index finger, not touching me, just pointing near the middle of my breasts. When I looked down, he flipped up his finger and flicked the end of my nose, then laughed.

I shoved at him, though I was laughing too, at having been so stupid as to fall for that old joke. Wy thought it was hysterical and Case flicked Marshall's ear none too gently and said, “Jesus, you want a broken arm?”

Marsh lifted his hands and pretended to tremble, defending himself, “Tish, you fell for it!”

Garth said with all sincerity, “God, I miss hanging out with you guys.”

Case pulled out a chair for me and then claimed the one across, just as I'd been hoping. Marsh sat on my left and Wy across from him, Garth at what amounted to the head of the table.

“This would be perfect if Carter and Camille were here too,” Garth reflected. “What would it take to get them out here for good?”

“They love it back home,” I said. “So no chance there. Plus they have twenty children, so it's not exactly easy for them to do anything.”

“I know, I was just wishing,” Garth said.

“I just talked to them last night,” Case said. He was leaning on his forearms over the table, menu caught loosely in his hands, and I was leaning towards him, in the same position. I couldn't keep my eyes from his face; his hat kept his eyes in partial shadow, but accentuated the contrast of his soft lips and firm chin, the angles of his jaw and cheekbones. He looked so damn good, and so natural in his cowboy hat, even though it covered his hair.

“You did?” I asked. “I haven't talked to Camille since I've been here, which is terrible.”

“She was a little upset,” Case acknowledged. “She said to tell you to call her.”

“I will tonight,” I said, though I couldn't consider much beyond this moment, looking into his eyes.

His eyes smiled again, just before his lips, and I felt all weak and hot through my limbs, all along my center. He said, “Thanks for bringing Gus and Lacy back last night. They ended up sleeping on the pullout couch instead of heading to their place.”

“Did you go back out to the rock?” Somehow I was sure he had. The Rawleys were busy ordering appetizers and drinks, so I felt safe asking, as they weren't directly listening.

“I took Buck out for a long time actually. No one else showed up,” he said. “I can't sleep when the moon is like that, waxing to full.”

Is there any other reason?
I wanted to beg. I wished I had been with him so badly that my chest hurt.

“I know exactly what you mean,” I said. “I can't sleep during thunderstorms. There's been quite a few while I've been here.”

“Summertime does it,” Case said. We hadn't so much as glanced apart and I felt the heat of his gaze like a touch upon my skin, as always. He said, “They can be violent but they usually roll through pretty quickly.”

“Clark said weather changes fast here,” I affirmed. I jumped a little as Garth flicked a piece of breadstick at Case.

“Hey, you two want to go in on a pitcher, to start out?” Garth asked, looking between Case and me with only thinly-veiled speculation.

“Yes, that sounds great,” I said.

Case nodded.

“Can we get some potato skins?” Wy begged then. He reminded me, “Remember, Tish, anything you want!”

“You buying? Sweet,” Marshall declared, teasing his little brother.

“Sure, that sounds good, and mozzarella sticks too,” I said to the pretty redheaded server who was waiting near Marshall's left elbow. She was totally giving him the eye, but he was playing it cool, as cool as a cucumber salad as Gran would have said, and I almost giggled.

“No problem,” she said, clicking her pen and fluttering her lashes at Marsh.

“Thanks,” Marsh said, only checking her out after she sauntered away. He muttered, “Shit, I gotta get her name, dedicate a song or two.”

“What a
smooth
operator,” Garth teased him.

“Hey, that's how you first got in Becky's pants, I'm just saying,” Marshall fired right back, and we all laughed hard at this, even Garth.

“Damn, not in front of the kid,” Garth managed to say through his laughter. “Shit, he hasn't even French-kissed a girl yet.”

Wy grew indignant, saying, “Have so!”

“When and where?” Marsh demanded.

“Other than Hannah's earring?” Case asked, angling one shoulder to face Wy. At the word ‘earring,' I had a sharp flutter in my stomach, thinking again of my missing silver hoop.

Wy knitted his eyebrows and admitted, “Fine! Not yet.”

“There's plenty of time for that,” I told him. “Remember, I was almost a senior in high school before my first kiss.”

“Yeah, I heard that story,” Garth said, provoking more laughter.

“So judging by this time line, are you still a virgin?” Marsh asked, totally straight-faced, and everyone laughed even harder, including me. I punched his arm.

“You are
begging
for a severe beating,” Case told him, even though he was laughing too.

“Ow,” Marsh complained, nursing his arm where I'd decked him. He said to me, innocently, “It's all right, I still am too. Maybe we could, like, help each other in this regard…”

“
Oh my God
,” I groaned, my stomach again hurting from laughing.

The server returned with our appetizers and drinks, and Garth did the honors, pouring for all of us. Wy had a coke with two cherries stuck on the rim. I snagged a mozzarella stick and leaned back towards Case asking, “So, where's the elk steak on the menu?”

“Second page,” he told me and our eyes held fast. I enjoyed being with him far, far too much, thinking of Clark's words my first Friday at their house. How I should be Case's friend, but nothing more.

But how do I stop it from being nothing more?

What if I don
'
t want it to stop?

He added, “I'd order you the nine-ouncer. With mushrooms, that's the best. I mean, if you like mushrooms.”

“I do,” I said.

“And it comes with a side of fried onion. They carve it into a little flower and then deep-fry it,” he said, and our eyes were speaking so much more than our lips. I thought of the way my old roommates would joke about ‘eye-fucking' someone at the bar. I always thought it was a stupid expression, but that was exactly what Case and I were doing right now. Just exactly.

“It sounds too pretty to eat,” I said, all breathless and shivery. His eyes tracked to my mouth and lingered there for a moment.

“You have a little bit of mozzarella…” he said, indicating my top lip by touching his own.

“Dammit,” I muttered and Case's smile widened. I said, “I'll be right back,” and jumped up to hit the ladies' room.

I threaded through the growing crowd, noticing that I was appropriately dressed for the bar, although most of the women were wearing slightly sexier clothing than me. I found the bathroom and ducked inside to do a quick check – I swiped the sticky cheese from my lip and quickly finger-combed my hair, which was wild in the humidity in here, to say the least. I wished I was wearing my red-and-black tank top that showed off my cleavage.

Why, Tish? To what end?

Remember, you
'
re leaving this place at the end of summer.

Shit, sooner than that
–
in two days for the bar exam.

I studied my eyes in the mirror, somberly. Maybe being back in Chicago would return me to my senses, remind me what I had been working for since I was eighteen years old and starting college.

Oh God
…

I shoved out of the bathroom door and hurried through the crowd then, hurried to get back to Case; only the unfortunate sight of someone I recognized, elbowed up to the bar, slowed my pace a fraction.

Shit, he saw you.

Derrick was perched on a stool, a highball glass near his hands. He caught sight of me and I could tell he hadn't anticipated seeing me here, because his shoulders straightened and he actually appeared somewhat startled before his natural arrogance reasserted itself. He narrowed his eyes but then nodded at the empty bar stool nearest him. I turned away without further acknowledgment, recalling that Al had said Derrick stayed in a hotel in Miles City; though, to be fair, there wasn't a hotel within Jalesville city limits, only the old campground that had already been a score for Capital Overland.

I got back to our table and slid into my seat; Garth and Marsh were talking with a guy who was standing between their chairs. Case had been listening but he watched me take my seat and said, “You got all of it.”