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“Hey, it’s for work.”

“I guess I can let it slide this time.”

Their knees brushed against the table. Their eyes met and her mouth went dry.

“You look pretty tonight,” he said after several charged seconds.

“Thanks.” Dolly was trying to remember how to breathe steadily.

Nash toyed with the saltshaker, while the conversations of the rodeo folks continued around them. Dolly was usually much better at making small talk, but sitting so close to Nash was short-circuiting her brain. “So tell me about yourself.” That was lame, but at least it was something to break the tension.

“Not much to tell. I grew up in Georgia. I did some rodeo during college. Obviously, I didn’t continue. How about you? Were you a high school cheerleader?”

Dolly nodded. “And junior high, and college and then I went pro.”

“Why did you stop?”

“It wasn’t my choice. I got too old.” Dolly pushed aside those feelings. She stuffed a big piece of corn bread in her mouth to compensate.

“That sucks. I was forced out of my job too.”

That was news. She quickly chewed and swallowed, washing it down with a gulp of sweet tea. “What happened?”

Nash shook his head. “A long story and I don’t want to get into it now.”

She could understand keeping secrets, so she let it pass. “Were your parents disappointed when you left? My father couldn’t care less, but my mother acted like someone died. Mom was a pageant queen, and she had wanted all her daughters to follow in her footsteps.” Dolly fiddled with the frayed edge of the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. “Loretta gave it a go, but lost interest right away. She wanted to be an artist. Reba balked from the get-go. She’d have rather been in the barn than in a makeup chair. I did all right, but I never won a title. LeAnn gave her that, but then turned in her tiara for cowboy boots.”

“Was she disappointed?”

“LeAnn? No, I think she was relieved to have the pressure off her. I know I was when I aged out of the pageantry scene. My mother, though? She was devastated.”

“She must have been happy when the NFL picked you up.”

Dolly hid a wince. “Thrilled. She taped every game I was in. If you’re ever interested in being bored witless, let me know and I’ll see if I can pry them out of her grip. What about your parents?” she asked, nudging again.

Nash took a big draw from his beer. “My father is a con artist, always looking for the next big score. I haven’t heard from him in years.”

Dolly winced. “Sorry to bring it up.”

Nash shrugged. “It is what it is. My mother was the same until she found religion. Now she’s just the opposite—a devout woman who tries to save everyone’s soul, including mine. She’s a stickler for rules now. To her, everything is black and white, no room for gray areas.”

“Sounds familiar,” Dolly said.

“Who me?”

“Yeah you. You never go over the speed limit. You go out of your way to make sure your equipment is regulation.”

“That’s called following the rules. The rules are there for a reason.”

Dolly shook her head. “No one cares if you bend them a little.”

“I care,” he said forcefully.

“I can see where you get your strong sense of duty from.”

“More like my strong sense of guilt,” he muttered under his breath.

“Is that why you went into the…” she looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper “…the bureau?”