“Katie? You there?”
She blinked several times coming down from her thoughts. “Yes! I’m here, and yes, I’ll be there!”
He sounded relieved, and they talked for another minute before saying goodbye. When she pressed the end call button on her cell, she immediately hit the speed dial on her office phone that went directly into Dale’s office.
“Yes, ma’am?”
“I’m heading to Nashville on Thursday!” she shrieked excitedly.
“Oh. My. God. The cowboy called, didn’t he?”
“Yes!”
Dale purposefully talked with a thick Southern accent making her laugh out loud. “Well, darlin’, aren’t you the luckiest little cowgirl this side of the Mississippi?”
“I’m going to a songwriter’s showcase at the Bluebird Café that he’s performing in.”
“Wow! That sounds cool…”
“Dale, would you wear cowboy boots if you were me or would that be weird?” Nervously, she tapped the end of a pencil on her desk already contemplating her weekend wardrobe.
“You wear whatever your little ole Kathryn Parker heart desires.”
***
The sunroof was wide open on Katie’s Beemer as she steadily climbed Interstate-24 toward Monteagle. The past two days had been excruciating, anticipating seeing Clay again. As she made the journey to Tennessee, it was fun watching the temperature drop on her dashboard thermometer as she gained altitude up the mountain. The protruding rocks and formations on either side of the highway were magnificent against the perfect summer sky. Scrolling through several radio stations, she landed on a contemporary country broadcast and wondered if some of the songs she was humming along to were Georgia Clay originals. She couldn’t wait to see him in action, playing the songs that made him a famous songwriter. Stacey insisted that she borrow her flaming-red cowboy boots for the occasion, coaching her in appropriate Nashville attire.
“You’ll fit right in if you wear the boots,” her best friend stressed. “All his Nash Vegas buddies will think you’re one of them if you’re sportin’ these!”
Katie smiled and shook her head. She really wasn’t the cowboy boot wearing type but packed them to appease Stacey, knowing deep down that she probably wouldn’t even take them out of her suitcase. She liked the fact that she could be herself around Clay, unhindered and honest. There was something about his music that projected honesty as well. She knew they’d get along just fine, with or without cowboy boots. Her ringing cell phone interrupted an Eric Church tune about Springsteen. Clicking a button on her steering wheel, the Bluetooth kicked in leaving her hands free on the dangerous highway.
“Hello? This is Katie.”
“Hey, Pretty Girl. It’s Clay. How are you holding up?”
She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head to hold her hair back and blushed. The word “pretty” coming out of his sexy mouth made her pulse race. “I’m doing great. The traffic is minimal, and the day is gorgeous. I just wish there weren’t so many big rigs on the road. Kind of scary going up this mountain.”
“Well, stay back from them,” he urged, his voice filled with concern. “That stretch of Interstate is notorious for heavy-footed drivers that end up using the runaway truck ramps, especially on the decline.”
“I’ll be careful…” It touched her that he was checking up on her. “Maybe I should come up with my own trucker name?” She giggled.
“Now, that’s not a bad idea. My daddy was a trucker. Everyone called him ‘Big Daddy.’”
“Yes, you told me.”
“I could call you… ‘Hot Mama’?”
Her cheeks were growing warmer. “Okay, if I can call you ‘Firecracker.’”
His laugh was infectious as it came over her car speaker. “‘Firecracker’? Where’d you come up with that?”
Katie bit her lip gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Well, every time we made love I saw fireworks…”
There was silence for a few seconds before she heard him sigh. “Damn, Hot Mama. You sure know how to make a guy blush.”
She imagined him on the other side of the line with his tousled hair and caramel eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually so forward. It’s just that…”
“It’s just…what?” His voice was low and sexy.
