his arms into the air.
On the overhead TV screen, the chicken pecked at the number and then wandered to the corner of the cage.
“Fuck.” His hands thumped to the top of his head.
I nudged Alicia. “I can’t believe he’s being competitive over where a chicken shits. Can you—”
She shushed me and muttered, “Come on, honey.”
A thrill ran through me. She’d never used an endearment for me before. It was probably best if we didn’t until the project was over. I turned and found her eyes fixed on the screen. “Do it on number five,” she whispered.
I tried to catch Jamila’s gaze across the high-top table, but her attention was on the screen, too. She gripped her wooden chit painted with the number twenty-two.
I scraped my chair back across the patio pavers. “Anyone want a refill?”
All three of them shushed me, so I took my empty and wandered toward the bar. But something caught my eye before I reached it. I went over to investigate.
Away from the bingo cage and the crowd were a few poultry cages, and the strangest creature I’d ever seen pecked at a bowl of seed inside one of the cages. Tawny like a lion, it looked like it had fur instead of feathers, but it had a sharp, blue-black beak. Its feet were hidden by puffs of fluff, and another pouf on the top of its head obscured its eyes.
I bent to examine it. “Is that a chicken or a tiny llama?”
A teenage girl with a voice as thick as molasses drawled, “That’s Leo. He’s a Silkie.”
“So what is he?”
She laughed. “He’s a rooster. A chicken.”
I straightened. “Is he yours?”
She flipped a red pigtail behind the shoulder of her plaid western shirt. “Since he was an egg. I raise them.”
“You raise them?” When I was her age, I wasn’t responsible for as much as a fish. I still wasn’t.
“Yeah, these guys aren’t too hard. Friendly. Calm. Goes right in his cage when it’s time to come out here.”
“Does he—?” I tilted my head toward the bingo cage.
“Nah. The bar owner asks me to bring my birds to show the kids. You know, in case they get bored. Some of the parents can get kinda into it, y’know?”
“Oh, I know.” The bar patrons roared. The chicken must’ve done her business. “Nice meeting you—?”
“Bonnie.” She flashed me a shy grin.
“Jay. Good luck with the chickens.” I headed toward the bar.
Four longnecks in hand, I returned to the table. Jamila took one and started whispering in Alicia’s ear. I handed one to Cooper, who muttered, “A little young, even for you.”
“What are you talking about?” I set a beer in front of Alicia and took a swig of mine.
“That girl over there can’t be older than seventeen.”
I glanced back at Bonnie, who’d hefted up a toddler to look into Leo’s cage. “We were talking about chickens. That’s Leo, and he’s a Silkie. What the fuck, Coop?”
The women paused their conversation to look over at us, and Cooper held back whatever he was going to say.
Jamila laid a hand on his arm. “Hey, Alicia, maybe you and Jay should go check out the music inside.”
“Good idea.” Alicia brushed past me, and with one final scowl at Cooper, I followed her through the doors into the darkness of the bar. She led me to the edge of the small dance floor, where a few couples spun to the lively song playing over the speakers.
“Hey, you okay?” She gripped my forearm and spoke right into my ear, her breath tickling my cheek.
“Not really. He actually fucking accused me of flirting with that…that child.”
She bit her lip. “You guys aren’t what I expected. Is he always so…feisty?”
“Me and Coop?” Jamila said we were best friends with a bite. “I love him like a brother. And we fight like brothers. I trust him with my business; I’d trust him with my life, too.”
“Still, you deserve to be treated with respect. You know that, right?”
I shrugged. I understood why he’d made the comment. I’d fucked up pretty big with Callie. He wasn’t going to let me forget it anytime soon.
Her voice went fierce. “Jackson Jones, you are worthy. And don’t let Cooper make you think anything else.”
I glanced away from the dancers into her eyes, blue as the hot springs down by Santa Barbara. She believed in me the way no one else ever had, not even me. I wanted to kiss her, right there in that bar full of people, where Jamila or Cooper could walk in any minute.
But I didn’t. Instead, I grabbed her hand. “Teach me to dance?”
“You want to learn to two-step?” She tilted her head.
“I want to touch you, and this is the only way I can do it with him here.” I tipped my head toward the bingo patio.
Her cheeks pinked, but she held up our joined hands and put the other on my shoulder. She didn’t have to instruct me to put my hand on her waist. I’d been watching the other couples.
“I go backward, you go forward. Slide your feet. Start with your left. One-and-two step. One-and-two step.”
In a minute, we were shuffling across the floor, part of the circle of other dancers. The soles of my boots slid across the wood dance floor, and Alicia lifted on her toes so her heels didn’t trip us up.
“Stop watching your feet. They’re doing it right.”
“But I don’t want to step on—” I realized it was a mistake as soon as I looked up. Her eyes, blazing in the darkness of the bar, sucked me in until I couldn’t see anything else. Even the twangy music faded. Alicia believed in me. She believed I could dance. That I could stand up to Cooper. That I could lead the team and even the company. That I was worthy of holding a treasure like her in my arms.
“Alicia, I—” I lowered my head until our lips were inches apart, until I could feel the heave of her chest against mine, could imagine what could happen if we were alone like we’d almost been at my apartment on Saturday night.
“Hey, y’all.” Jamila’s voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. “I think we should go. Cooper lost again, and he’s cranky.”
I ripped my head up and stepped away from Alicia. Her cheeks had gone red. She untangled her fingers from mine. “Yeah, time to go.”
Jamila missed nothing. She took in Alicia’s blush, my fingers that still reached for her. But she didn’t say a word as we traipsed back through the bar, not even when we joined Cooper, silent and broody, in his rental.
On the drive back, close enough in the narrow back seat to smell Alicia’s sweet orange and line-dried cotton, I wondered what would’ve happened if Jamila hadn’t interrupted us. We were dancing a fine line between friendship and something I wanted more than anything, something I couldn’t have.
Or could I? She’d been breathing as hard as I had, her burning gaze a reflection of my own. We were better together at coding. Could we pair up outside work, too? And not for one night but for an endless string of them? More than a couple weeks’ trial. Forever?
Was that what I wanted?
My galloping heart answered for me: it is it is it is.