A soft knock sounds on the door, and I step out of my bathroom as the door opens. “Okay, this is the most country I have,” Olivia says, and I shake my head.

“There is nothing country about that outfit,” I say, pointing at her blue jeans and a black off-the-shoulder sweetheart shirt that shows just a touch of her toned midriff with matching platform wedges. Her blond hair is perfectly done, and her makeup is lighter than usual.

“Well, this is as country as I get,” she says, shrugging. “You, on the other hand. You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl.”

I laugh down at my own outfit. My blue jeans are low riding, and I’ve paired them with a tight flowery spaghetti strap crop top with a built-in bra, my big brown belt, and matching cowboy boots. I don’t want to think about the last time I wore these boots, which was when I was going to prom.

“Well, shall we?” I say, and she nods her head with a huge smile on her face. Casey groans when he sees us coming down.

He drags his feet to the truck, opening the back door for me and the front door for Olivia. “Thank you, cowboy,” she says, getting on her tippy toes and kissing his cheek.

“I don’t have a good feeling about tonight,” Casey says, getting into the truck and making his way over to the bar.

The parking lot is full, and I whistle when I hear the music coming from inside. “This definitely has changed from the last time I was here,” I say, seeing the flash of lights coming out of the window.

“New owner came in and changed things. Put in a pool table, a dartboard, and then brought in a DJ and a band on Friday and Saturday nights,” Casey says as we walk to the front door. “She also expanded, tripling the size.”

“Wow,” I say when he opens the door, and I step in. He was not kidding about the changes. About twenty people are already on the dance floor doing a line dance. Wooden tables are all around the dance floor, and looking past the dance floor, I see the back room is almost full of people playing pool and others watching. “This is so cool,” I say, looking at Casey right before I turn fully and see her behind the bar. Smiling, she tosses a bottle up in the air and then pours it into the shot glasses in front of her. “What the …?” I say softly, and she must sense that I’m looking at her because she looks right at me, and her smile fades. “Casey?”

“Meet the owner,” he says, motioning to the bar, “Savannah.”