moment at the red light in Davis, when he’d seen the women in the restaurant, toasting each other with margaritas. He liked his booze about as much as the average guy, but he’d never considered joining a club to celebrate it.
Aiming for casual, he asked, “Where is her husband assigned?”
Justin’s look was long and steady. “She’s in the club, man. The Tuesday Night Margarita Club. They meet at The Three Amigos for dinner and drinks every week.”
Feeling the way he imagined the brain injury patients did at times, Dane raised his brows. “And what does that have to do with her husband?”
“The margarita club is otherwise known as the ‘Fort Murphy Widows’ Club.’” Justin paused. “Staff Sergeant Lowry is dead, man. Has been for about two years.”
Chapter Three
D inner was always casual: jeans, a sweater, a little bit of makeup. Carly sprayed on cologne, then closed her eyes and sniffed the shower-warmed air. The fragrance was light, sweet. Innocent, Jeff had said when he’d given her the first bottle. He’d smelled it on a woman at the PX, asked her what it was and gone to the perfume counter to buy it, and Carly had worn it ever since.
She liked the scent well enough, but she’d never loved it the way he did. Maybe it was time for a change. After work tomorrow, maybe she should go to the PX and pick out her own cologne. Something not so sweet and innocent.
Feeling vaguely guilty, she switched off the light, then twisted her wedding band as she went down the hall. It was a little early to leave for the restaurant, but she got her purse and jacket anyway and left the house, driving the mile or so to the strip center where The Three Amigos Mexican Grill sat right in the middle of the parking lot.
It stood out like a canary amidst doves. While the main buildings that enclosed the lot made at least an effort to fit in with the sandstone and brick storefronts of downtown, The Three Amigos’ colors were just short of garish: teal, orange, yellow, and lime green. The roof was red tile, and potted silk flowers in bright red filled the planters on either side of the doors year-round. The shaded patio on the east side held wrought-iron tables in a half dozen different styles, a dozen different colors of paint. It marked its little corner of the Tallgrass Center as a Mexican feast for both the eyes and the palate.
The sound of tumbling water greeted her when she opened the heavy door. The first thought that came to mind was the waterfalls from the previous weekend. The cave. Dane. She honestly hadn’t expected to see him again.
But it had been kind of nice.
Skirting the fountain in the center of the lobby, she greeted the hostess, then wove through tables to a rectangular table at the rear of the dining room. They never knew how many would join them each week, but there were always at least eight. She was settling in a chair, back to the wall, when Therese joined her.
“Oh, dear heavens, I need a drink.”
Carly caught the waitress’s attention and held up two fingers. With a wink, the woman headed for the bar. “Let me guess. Jacob is in the fiftieth straight hour of video games without so much as a bathroom break, and Abby has fallen desperately in love with a wannabe bad boy with spiked hair and a nose ring. Any chance she’ll run off with him?”
“The way things have been going, she’d probably move him in with us so I could support him.” Therese shuddered, then made an obvious attempt to loosen up. “No, Jacob does take bathroom breaks, at least, and Abby is hating all things male this week. From what I’ve overheard, the boy she thought liked her asked another girl out, then Mr. Snyder caught her texting at school—giving answers to a test, no less—and took her phone away, plus gave her detention. I had to go pick up her and the phone after work, and I didn’t give it back, and she’s livid.” Therese smiled gratefully as the waitress delivered the two margaritas, then she
Aiming for casual, he asked, “Where is her husband assigned?”
Justin’s look was long and steady. “She’s in the club, man. The Tuesday Night Margarita Club. They meet at The Three Amigos for dinner and drinks every week.”
Feeling the way he imagined the brain injury patients did at times, Dane raised his brows. “And what does that have to do with her husband?”
“The margarita club is otherwise known as the ‘Fort Murphy Widows’ Club.’” Justin paused. “Staff Sergeant Lowry is dead, man. Has been for about two years.”
Chapter Three
D inner was always casual: jeans, a sweater, a little bit of makeup. Carly sprayed on cologne, then closed her eyes and sniffed the shower-warmed air. The fragrance was light, sweet. Innocent, Jeff had said when he’d given her the first bottle. He’d smelled it on a woman at the PX, asked her what it was and gone to the perfume counter to buy it, and Carly had worn it ever since.
She liked the scent well enough, but she’d never loved it the way he did. Maybe it was time for a change. After work tomorrow, maybe she should go to the PX and pick out her own cologne. Something not so sweet and innocent.
Feeling vaguely guilty, she switched off the light, then twisted her wedding band as she went down the hall. It was a little early to leave for the restaurant, but she got her purse and jacket anyway and left the house, driving the mile or so to the strip center where The Three Amigos Mexican Grill sat right in the middle of the parking lot.
It stood out like a canary amidst doves. While the main buildings that enclosed the lot made at least an effort to fit in with the sandstone and brick storefronts of downtown, The Three Amigos’ colors were just short of garish: teal, orange, yellow, and lime green. The roof was red tile, and potted silk flowers in bright red filled the planters on either side of the doors year-round. The shaded patio on the east side held wrought-iron tables in a half dozen different styles, a dozen different colors of paint. It marked its little corner of the Tallgrass Center as a Mexican feast for both the eyes and the palate.
The sound of tumbling water greeted her when she opened the heavy door. The first thought that came to mind was the waterfalls from the previous weekend. The cave. Dane. She honestly hadn’t expected to see him again.
But it had been kind of nice.
Skirting the fountain in the center of the lobby, she greeted the hostess, then wove through tables to a rectangular table at the rear of the dining room. They never knew how many would join them each week, but there were always at least eight. She was settling in a chair, back to the wall, when Therese joined her.
“Oh, dear heavens, I need a drink.”
Carly caught the waitress’s attention and held up two fingers. With a wink, the woman headed for the bar. “Let me guess. Jacob is in the fiftieth straight hour of video games without so much as a bathroom break, and Abby has fallen desperately in love with a wannabe bad boy with spiked hair and a nose ring. Any chance she’ll run off with him?”
“The way things have been going, she’d probably move him in with us so I could support him.” Therese shuddered, then made an obvious attempt to loosen up. “No, Jacob does take bathroom breaks, at least, and Abby is hating all things male this week. From what I’ve overheard, the boy she thought liked her asked another girl out, then Mr. Snyder caught her texting at school—giving answers to a test, no less—and took her phone away, plus gave her detention. I had to go pick up her and the phone after work, and I didn’t give it back, and she’s livid.” Therese smiled gratefully as the waitress delivered the two margaritas, then she
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