Chapter 5      

By the time Riley parked the car at Nashville’s famous Printer’s Alley, she knew a few more things about him.

He liked to hum, and it was downright pleasant to the ear. He’d kept up a delightful rumble as he’d maneuvered the car through the downtown traffic.

He also didn’t feel the need to talk for the sake of talking. She rather liked that. She figured Jess was probably the talker in the family. That little girl and Haley sure as shooting had warmed her heart with their enthusiasm over their date. 

Paige had been shocked to see her at the door, but her surprise had melted into kindness as soon as Sadie awkwardly explained her concerns. Her half-sister had put a hand on her arm, insisted that she not worry about it, and told her that Riley had already brought up the same thing.

Her reassurances had given Sadie a happy burst in her veins, so much so that she’d felt like she was walking on air when she’d gone outside to meet Riley. The kids’ sendoff had been oh-so-sweet, and even if they never had another date, she would always remember the beginning fondly.

“Skull’s Rainbow Room was highly rated as a great first date spot, and it has live music,” he told her when he came around to open her door. “I hope you like it. We’re a little early for our reservation, but we can see if they’ll seat us.”

Printer’s Alley was chock full of places suited to every palate. She’d never been to this particular restaurant before, but she was eager to see the place where Tim McGraw had gotten his big break. Rye had also played there a few times back in the day.

“I’ve always wanted to check it out,” she said. “I haven’t been down here since the Fiddle and Steel Guitar Bar closed its doors. That’s where Rascal Flatts was discovered, you know.”

“No, I didn’t,” he said, putting his hand under her elbow as they walked through the crowd on the brick-lined street. “I know it’s heresy in this part of the world, but I’m not a country music lover.”

She stopped suddenly. Okay, so this might be a problem. Not only were there two Grammy-winning country music stars in her family circle—Rye and Susannah’s husband, Jake—but her big brother represented singers and wrote songs. The McGuinesses had country music running through their veins. 

“You’re kidding! How could you not love country music? It’s got passion and soul, and most of the songs simply break your heart before putting the pieces back together again.”

He tucked her close as people walked around them. “Personally, I think it’s a lot of guys running around in tight jeans, trying to prove their masculinity by singing about how much they love apple pie, the American flag, and their hunting dogs. And the women are mostly fake. Half of their songs are about how much they love hearth and home, and the other half are about doing tequila shots.”

There was some angst in his voice she didn’t understand. Truth be told, she had to work to keep her mouth from falling open. How totally rude of him to say that! But she was too much of a lady to point it out. “What kind of music do you listen to, then?” she asked instead.

“I love New Wave bands like Echo and the Bunnymen. ‘Under the Milky Way’ is a classic! ‘Bed Bugs and Ballyhoo’ is one of my faves.”

Bed bugs? Well, Brad Paisley had made her laugh with his song about ticks. “I’ve never heard of those bands. What do they sound like?”

“They have a unique sound.” He shrugged. “I like people who have integrity about what they put out. It’s the artist in me.”

Part of her agreed, but how could he assume nobody in country music had integrity? Why, the country singers she knew were some of the best people there were. “I see.”

“I also like The Church,” he said, his brows creeping closer together as he studied her.

Whew! Relief coursed through her. She’d wondered about that. “I like church too. My mama’s a preacher.”

“Ah…not that kind of church.” He shifted on his feet as though uncomfortable.

What other kind could he mean? she refrained from asking. This conversation was going nowhere fast.

“Anyone else you like?” she asked, hoping for a silver lining.

“Public Image Ltd. is awesome! If I had to pick a favorite song, I’d have to say…” He paused and guided her to the side of the building out of the way of the crowd. “‘This Is Not A Love Song.’”

So he wasn’t a romantic, after all? She was becoming confused. 

“Who is your favorite country singer?” he asked, clearly trying to salvage the conversation.

“Well, I’m partial to Rye Crenshaw and Jake Lassiter,” she said, going strictly with family for reasons of loyalty.

“I don’t know them,” he said. “But I only like—”

“Wait! You don’t know Rye Crenshaw or Jake Lassiter?” Her voice rose, causing people to turn their heads to look at them. Even passersby had trouble believing it was true.

“Have you been living under a rock?” a tall bearded man asked, stopping next to them. “Sorry, I overhead your conversation.”

Riley shrugged, seeming uncomfortable. 

The bystander looked Sadie up and down. “Honey, you need to dump this guy and cut a rug with me tonight. It’s un-American not to like country music, and we don’t need our women hanging out with—”

“All right, that’s enough,” Riley said, holding out his hands. “I’m not trying to slam your jam. Everyone deserves to have their own taste in music.”

“Not in Nashville, they don’t,” the tall man said, getting into his face. “You need to move along, mister, before I show you what’s up.”

“I understand your loyalty, sir, but my friend is right,” Sadie said, putting her hand on the tall man’s arm to settle him down. Up close, the man looked like a lumberjack. If he was violent, he might take a swing at Riley. While Riley was tall too, he was leanly muscular. One punch would level him, given the difference in their sizes. 

“If you change your mind, I’ll be having a beer at the bar over there.” Lumberjack Arms gave her a saucy wink. “You’d better treat this little lady right, son, or you’ll answer to me.”

“If I didn’t treat her right, she wouldn’t be out with me, man,” Riley said, clearly not backing down.

Was he crazy? Lumberjack Arms had over a hundred pounds on him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be out with a man who seemed to have so little sense, especially when it came to potential violence.

“Thank you again, mister,” she said, hoping to smooth things over. “Honey, we need to get along. Bye, now.” She gave a partial wave to the tall man and pulled Riley toward Skull’s Rainbow Room before a fight could break out.

“Oh, what a beautiful atmosphere,” she said, pretending to be distracted by the beautiful dark wood interior.

Riley gave their name to the hostess, who didn’t blink that they were early, and soon they were shown to a table in front of the black-and-white checkered stage with a long L-shaped wood and marble extension. The server gave them cocktail menus, and she decided on a drink with passion fruit, lime cordial, and rum. Couldn’t go wrong with something island-like in her opinion. Perhaps it would jazz up her mood. Oh heck, she might as well find out if they weren’t going to suit. She should be used to that kind of disappointment by now. Only Riley was so different from the men she normally dated, so much more outspoken and opinionated. 

“If you don’t like country music, isn’t this place a strange choice?” she asked Riley. “I mean, it’s not like you knew I loved country music.”

He settled both elbows on the table, having left the cocktail menu where it sat. “This isn’t a country place anymore according to my buddy. He said the entertainment was unique.”

“And you figured you liked unique,” she said, the picture forming.

“Did I mention it’s been voted one of the best first-date nights in town?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and then popping forward again.

“Yes,” she said. Of course, an interesting place alone couldn’t make a first date turn out well. “What cocktail are you going to have?”

“I’ll probably just have a beer,” he said. “I might not like country music, but I like beer. Have I been somewhat redeemed in your eyes?”

Was beer somehow redeeming? Goodness, he confused her. “No redemption is necessary,” she said to be polite.

The server appeared and took their drink order, giving them the chance to pivot the conversation. She was just thinking of what she should say when Riley turned to her and asked, “What’s it like being a preacher’s daughter?” 

Of all the questions she thought he’d lead with, that wasn’t one of them. “It’s great. My mama is a wonderful woman and a powerful motivator. She touches a lot of people. I’m proud to be her daughter.”

He took a moment to think on that, humming softly under his breath. Sadie wondered if he realized he was doing it. There was something endearing about it, and yet it seemed like another sign he wasn’t comfortable with her.

“You don’t find there’s any extra pressure on you to…ah…”

“Live up to a certain standard?” she asked, visions of past dates with guys from church playing in her mind. “Many people think so, but mostly I just do what I think is right. When I don’t know, I pray about it. Usually the answer comes. I mean, I’m not a saint…”

“But you go to church every week, huh?” he asked, keeping his hands around his water glass like he expected it to take off on a vacation.

The way he said it implied that was a problem for him.

“Don’t you?” she asked.

“No, actually,” he said, fiddling with the menu. “I don’t really like established religion myself. Too many rules and thoughts created by other people. My parents raised me and my brother to think for ourselves and do the right thing. I want the same for Jess.”

The waiter arrived with their drinks just then, giving her a moment to think on his answer. 

“Are you against church itself?” she asked, needing to have a better handle on this.

He cleared his throat. “Religion and politics really aren’t first-date topics, are they? See. I told you I was really out of touch.”

Perhaps they should be, she thought. They certainly cut to the chase. 

“Tell me about your family,” she asked. “Do they live around here?”

“My parents live in Florida now, and my brother, Tyler, lives in San Francisco,” he said, grinning. This was obviously something he felt more comfortable talking about. “He’s got a great wife, two of the best kids on the planet, and the most incredible job ever. He works for DreamWorks.”

Goodness, it was as obvious as the nose on his face how much Riley loved his brother. That was something she could work with. 

“You don’t miss him?” she asked. “I couldn’t stand being so far away from my siblings. I count my blessings every day we all live in Dare River.”

“We see each other as often as we can,” Riley said. “Since I freelance, I can work anywhere, so Jess and I go as often as we can. She’s mad about her cousins, and my parents visit from time to time, although they have this new dog they treat like a kid.”

“Do you like dogs?” she asked, thinking of how many they had in their extended family.

“They’re okay,” he said, his mouth turning up. “I’d rather have something exotic. Like an iguana.”

Sadie grimaced. The server reappeared and asked if they were ready to order, saving her from replying. She had no words. 

“We got to talking,” she told the server. “Just give us a few minutes.” Determined to focus, she opened her menu.

“The food is supposed to be really good,” Riley said, checking out the menu as well. “Would you be interested in sharing the veal sweetbreads with me?”

Her stomach curdled at the thought. 

“I’m just crazy about the thymus gland of a baby cow,” Riley said, looking at her over the top of his menu. “Of course, it might be the little sucker’s pancreas, and that would be totally wicked.”

She was going to barf right there. “No, I think I’ll pass, but you go on ahead.” 

He started laughing. “Oh, you should see your face. I was teasing!”

She blinked. He was teasing? Had he been teasing about any of the other things? His admiration of reptiles, maybe? Being on a date with him was like playing in a ping-pong match. 

“I mean, who eats that crap? I probably shouldn’t say it too loud. I’m all about exploring what’s out there, but please. Putting a baby cow’s innards on a dinner menu is too much.”

“Whew,” she said, trying to join in the laughter, “you had me going there for a moment. You like to make jokes, don’t you?”

His shoulder lifted. “I suppose. I’ve never thought about it that way. Some things just strike me as funny. I mention them in conversation, and sometimes I write them into comic book storylines.”

“You write too?” she asked, eager for them to find some surer footing. “Well, aren’t you talented? I’ve never been great at writing or telling jokes. I pretty much fall for anything. As you could tell from the sweetbread thing.”

“I think it’s cute,” Riley said, taking her hand. “Did I tell you how pretty you look tonight?”

She was conscious of her sharp intake of breath at his touch. His hand felt like a warm fire. Goodness! “I…ah…don’t recall just now. But thank you. I hope I told you how nice you look.”

As she gazed at him, she felt that pull again, the feeling that had encouraged her to accept a date with him. All the little ways their conversation had stumbled receded to the back of her mind.

“You did,” Riley said, running his thumb over the back of her hand in sexy circles. “And you smell good too.”

“It’s just a little perfume.”

“Just a little perfume,” Riley repeated. “I love the way you say that too. Like it’s not a big deal. Heck, putting on this sport coat and some cologne was about as epic as Batman saving Gotham again.”

She fought a smile. He was serious, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. When a man went to extra effort for a woman… Well, it did things to her insides. “Do you often speak in superhero metaphors?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” he said. “Being a single dad is like being its own brand of superhero, I suppose. And Jess likes me to make up stories. Of course, she thinks she’s a princess, so I figure our family has an active imagination.”

“You’re a great dad,” she said, shocked to find herself twining her hand more around his own.

He leaned closer to her, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. It had notes of balsam pine and a touch of musk. Totally hot. Her pulse started to race as he used his other hand to caress her cheek.

Whoa! What was happening? The push-pull she felt was going to give her whiplash.

“I can’t stop looking at you,” he said. “I already want to draw your cheekbones and your…lips. I know I’m supposed to have some idea of what I want to eat tonight, but I honestly don’t care. I just want to sit here and hold your hand. Is that okay?”

She wasn’t sure how to respond. “Our server might object,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “I mean, this is a restaurant, and people in the service industry live on tips.” 

“I’ll order the prime rib, but I’ll have to ask the server to cut my meat so I can keep holding your hand. I’ll promise to tip him more.”

She started laughing. “You’re incorrigible.”

“No, just focused,” Riley said, caressing the back of her exposed neck.

Part of her wanted to tell him to stop. The idea to put her hair up had been mostly practical. The weather was still hot and muggy. But she found herself wishing he’d tug on the baby curls at her neck, which was totally shocking. She might not be a saint, but she didn’t let a man touch her like this on a first date. Sometimes she didn’t even want to kiss the guy at the end.

“Yes, I can see that,” she said, looking into his eyes. The blue was so magnetic. She needed to find a fabric that resembled it. Maybe there was something to all those theories about pheromones.

“You really are gorgeous,” he said in a low voice. “Even if you like country music.”

That popped her out of the pull of attraction. “I suppose we’d better be ready to order.”

He gave her a look and then settled back into his chair while she scooted back as well. Some people were staring at them, she realized, blushing. Well, what did she expect, putting on a show like that?

“You shouldn’t be worried about expressing yourself like that,” he said softly. “Being a woman is what makes you beautiful.”

Now that confused her even more. Was he saying she wasn’t acting like a woman? Afraid to express herself? Piano music began to stream down from the stage, and she realized the live music had started. He was right. It wasn’t country. She took some deep breaths to center herself, trying not to be obvious about it. Their server finally came over, and she selected the scallops because the portions were usually small, and she suddenly wasn’t hungry.

“Okay, tell me something else about you,” Riley said, reaching for his water.

He drained the whole glass in one fell swoop and had the audacity to wink at her. Wink!

She ran him through the basics as if by rote, from being a native of Nashville to working at the craft store. When their meal finally arrived, she picked at her food while he asked her questions about quilting. Finally, something she always loved to talk about.

“I haven’t seen many quilts, mind you,” he said, “but I always had the sense they were two-dimensional. Yours are three, and that’s totally cool. I mean, do you see the pattern before you start or do you work in pieces to create it? When I draw, it goes both ways.”

No one had ever asked her that before, and it made her focus more clearly on him. He was watching her like he was truly listening, but even more, like he was trying to figure her out. Maybe she was as foreign to him in some ways as he was to her. Maybe it was time for her to start over with him in her mind and see where things went.

Didn’t her mama always tell them not to judge people too hastily?

“I usually see it. Most quilters use pattern books and that’s how I started, but one night a few years ago, I realized I was bored with what I was seeing. I didn’t want to make the same kind of quilt as everyone else anymore—does that sound boastful?—so I started to sketch, and suddenly I had this new pattern of an ocean swirling on a beach with a sun. I kinda left the regimented square pattern behind after that. Mostly.”

Funny how Riley’s eyes reminded her of one of the blues she’d used. 

“That was my breakout quilt, you could say. The ones I sell are in my new style.”

“Your quilts are works of art,” Riley said.

“That means a lot, coming from a professional artist such as yourself,” she said, feeling a new kind of warmth in her chest, the kind that came from someone appreciating her talents. Sure, her family encouraged her, but she figured they had to. They were family. They’d thought her first rug quilt was precious, and it had been riddled with so many mistakes no one with a lick of sense would have bought it. 

But most of the men she’d gone out with had treated her quilting as a hobby. No one had realized how important it was to her. Could Riley be the first? 

“The show doesn’t start until eleven,” Riley said after the server removed their dinner plates. “How about another drink and dessert?”

She nodded, and they shared the pecan pie. Riley reached for her hand after they finished dessert, and she found herself becoming more and more comfortable as they listened to the piano player over the roar of the crowd.

When the show finally began, Sadie was delighted to see the band members were wearing tuxedos. A woman in a vintage sequined dress à la Joan Crawford appeared on stage to introduce the performers.

“I hope you like burlesque,” Riley said, scooting closer to be heard over the band. “I was assured it’s tasteful.”

She certainly hoped so. She’d never seen a burlesque show before, but from what she’d heard, it was risqué. The first performer sang like she was straight out of old Hollywood. The next woman tap-danced in a costume best described as a loose-fitting ballerina outfit. But when the woman after that came out in an outfit made of balloons, she held her breath.

“Oh, boy,” she heard Riley mutter. “I feel like I need to apologize in advance for what I think is about to happen. You’ve given me the impression you might not be comfortable—”

She jumped in her seat when the woman burst the first balloon, then watched in both fascination and shock as she proceeded to playfully lean over and start popping the ones flanking her bottom. Goodness… He’d brought her to a show like this for their first date? Who did he think she was? This felt like the opposite of the church men assuming she was saintly, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“Would you like to leave?” Riley said. “Don’t feel like you need to stay for me.”

She thought about it for a moment. The woman had clothes on underneath the balloons. Sort of. Plus, she doubted they could pin down their server during the show.

“It’s…fine.” If she got uncomfortable, she could look away. She didn’t like to think of herself as a prude, but it was kind of true.

“Note to self,” Riley said. “Never bring a preacher’s daughter to a burlesque show. No matter how tasteful.”

Okay, that had her stewing again. The show was over quickly, and she sat back in her chair, feeling a lingering warmth in her cheeks from blushing.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it?” Riley asked, like he was unable to read her. “I didn’t realize the act was so short. Likely for the best, right? Are you ready to go?”

She had her arms gripped tightly around herself. “That would be great.”

It took Riley a while to catch their server’s eye, but soon they were heading down Printer’s Alley. The night crowd was a little rowdy and music and laughter spilled out of the other establishments. He tucked her close, which she didn’t find comfortable, but he didn’t try and hold her when she pulled away. Silence stretched as they walked back to the car.

Inside, he didn’t turn the engine on. “Are you sure you’re okay? I would hate to think I made you uncomfortable. I mean…you’re Paige’s sister and all.”

Yes, she was, and it was good to be reminded. Their date might not have been what she’d hoped, but she would see him again socially should she and Paige continue to be friends. She turned in her seat to see him anxiously tapping the gearshift. Something about his lack of ease made her feel better. 

“Let’s just say you managed to broaden my horizons tonight.”

“That’s nice of you,” he said, “but if we still know each other for your birthday, I probably won’t buy you any balloons. In case it reminds you of tonight.”

That made her laugh. He had an odd sense of humor sometimes, but it was unique.

“Or maybe I’m wrong…” he amended, smiling devilishly. “I suppose if we still know each other then, depending on how things are going, I might just buy you balloons after all.”

Shock rolled through her, but she bit her lip and said, “I think you’d look great with those attached to your bottom.”

“Touché.” His chuckle was dark.

When they arrived back at his house, he walked her to her car door, but didn’t make a move to kiss her. He must have gotten the memo. She’d pulled her keys out as he’d pulled up.

“Goodnight, Sadie,” he said, his mouth turned up at the corners in a smile. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

She didn’t tell him that she’d had a good time because she wasn’t altogether sure it was true. It had been interesting and confusing and downright uncomfortable. But somehow in the quiet night beside him on the street, what she remembered most was the intensity with which he’d listened to her talk about her quilts, her passion. And how he’d called them works of art. Then there was how he’d touched her with those warm hands. And even though she hadn’t liked everything he’d said to her, he was honest, brutally so, and there was something to be said for that, wasn’t there?

“Goodnight, Riley,” she said, opening her door and climbing into her car.

He stepped back, and she took off. By the time she arrived home, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to see him again.

He was different from anyone she’d been attracted to, and somehow that scared her.