They’d turned it back to simmer, showered and had dinner at the marina restaurant; redfish and oysters. Dixie Chicken did them in. He told her he hired her because the lyrics were the first thing that came to mind when she walked into his bar. They were dancing in the aft deck. Pressing against each other, chest to chest, hips to hips. The moon was rising, in the velvety blue darkness, over Lake Ponchartrain.
Emma Lee looked over at TK, asleep with a smile on his face. They’d kissed and hadn’t stopped all through the tornado of white sheets and tan limbs that preceded a deep sleep. It was more than she’d imagined. She looked at him, with a predictable tenderness, as she inched out of bed, careful not to wake him. She dressed quietly, looking one last time over her shoulder before she left the forward cabin. She saw what it would become- bills and laundry, age and aches- like the hotshots who paid homage to him at the bar, she liked the romance of who he used to be. She wasn’t interested in who he was now.