Manny Ruiz, 62, spent 38 years yelling over the lowing of steers and rowdy cowboy banter as a central Texas cattle auctioneer, so he’d never had much patience for small-town gossip. The last two years, though, he’d gone out of his way to avoid any event he heard Lila Marlow would be attending. Lila, 48, was the county’s new animal control officer, and every neighbor, cousin, and even his own 16-year-old granddaughter had taken to teasing him that they’d make the perfect match. He’d written the idea off as disrespectful, almost gross, still carrying the weight of guilt eight years after his wife Rita’s sudden heart attack. He’d promised himself he’d never replace her, never let another woman take the spot she’d held for 34 years of marriage.
His granddaughter had cornered him at home that morning, holding a tray of 4H chocolate chip cookies she was selling at the annual fire department BBQ fundraiser, and he’d caved before she even finished asking. He showed up in his worn faded pearl snap shirt, scuffed work boots, and a hat he’d worn to every auction for the last decade, lingering by the beer tent and keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with anyone who might try to push him toward Lila. He’d snuck three of his granddaughter’s cookies before he spotted her across the lawn, leaning against a picnic table, laughing so hard at a fireman’s bad joke her eyes crinkled shut. She was wearing faded work jeans, steel-toe boots, and a county animal control hoodie tied around her waist, sun freckles splashed across her nose, a faint scar curving along her jaw from a pit bull bite she’d gotten six months prior. He’d seen the photo of her in the local paper, and told himself he felt nothing but mild disinterest.
A sudden, sharp Texas downpour hit ten minutes later, no warning, just fat cold raindrops slamming into the grass so hard they kicked up dust. Everyone scrambled for the closest cover, and Manny found himself pressed shoulder to shoulder with Lila under the edge of the beer tent, her rain-damp forearm brushing his when she reached over to grab a stack of paper napkins off the table next to him. He froze, his first instinct to step away, to apologize for being so close, but she turned to him before he could move, grinning, her voice raised over the sound of the rain. “Heard your granddaughter’s show goat took first place at the county fair last month. I had to wrangle a loose goat out on Highway 281 last week and thought of her, crazy little thing kept trying to eat my uniform patch.”
Manny blinked, surprised she even knew his granddaughter had a goat. He mumbled a response, and before he knew it they were talking, her leaning in close to be heard over the rain, her cedar and citrus shampoo scent wrapping around him, faint but warm. She told him she’d snuck into his cattle auctions when she was a teen, hiding in the back row with her cousin, thinking he was the coolest guy alive, how he could hold the attention of 200 drunk, loud cowboys with nothing but his voice and a gavel. He laughed, a real full laugh, the kind he hadn’t let out in years, and when she passed him an extra bottle of Shiner Bock her hand brushed his, calloused and warm from years of handling skittish dogs and farm animals.
The line hit him like a punch to the chest, because he remembered Rita saying those exact words to him a week before she died, laughing as she told him if she ever went first he better not mope around the house alone forever, better find someone to go dancing with, someone who’d make him stop taking everything so seriously. He hesitated for half a second, then held out his hand. Her palm fit perfectly in his, rough in all the same places his was, and when they stepped onto the dance floor he rested his hand light on her waist, not too close, not too far. She rested her head on his chest for a few seconds, her voice soft. “Your heart’s beating real fast, Manny.” He didn’t deny it.
They danced through two whole songs before they wandered over to the dessert truck to get peach cobbler, the sun breaking through the clouds and painting the grass gold. Lila took a bite and got a crumb of crust stuck on her chin, and he reached out without thinking, wiping it off with his thumb. She blushed, grinning, nudging his shoulder with hers. “You gonna ask me out for coffee sometime, or am I gonna have to make up a fake loose cow call to your house to get you to talk to me?”
He laughed, tucking his free hand into his jeans pocket, already pulling out his phone to save her number. “I’ll pick you up Friday at 7. And don’t bring any of those rogue emus you keep posting about on Facebook, I don’t feel like chasing a 6 foot bird around the diner parking lot.” She punched his arm playfully, laughing as she typed her number into his phone, her nail polish chipped from working earlier that day. He slipped his hand into hers when she was done, and they stood together watching the kids race through the puddles, a faint rainbow arching over the fire station roof behind them.
