AN: Inspired by a prompt, which is the first paragraph of this story.

Just a Small-Town Girl

Jeff runs across the new girl in town...and thinks that he'd like to get to know her.

He wasn't sure he'd ever heard her talk before. She always came to the town events without any fanfare, stood around for a few hours, and left again as quietly as she came. He wondered why she had even bothered to move to such a close knit community if she wouldn't take the time to exchange small talk and pleasantries.

"Hey," Jeff asked, nudging his friend's elbow as they sat in the stands, watching the rodeo clowns dodge the angry bull in the ring. "See that girl down there?"

Max frowned and tipped his sunglasses down off his nose. "Which one?"

"Redhead. Third row from the bottom."

"Hmm." Max studied the slight figure for a few moments, taking in the messy bun beginning to soften with the day's breeze, the sloping pale neck disappearing into her plaid shirt, the slender hands rising to shade her face. "Yeah, she's cute." He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You know her?"

Jeff, too, studied the young woman, a smile breaking out on his face when she applauded the clowns' efforts in driving the bull back into its pen. "Not yet."

He caught up with her at the dance that evening, slowly circling the crowd until he was close to her. She stood at the edge of a knot of partygoers, nodding her head in time with the music, now taking a long pull from the beer bottle in her hand. Her other hand–no ring, he noticed–pushed a stray lock of that fiery hair behind one ear, and she laughed at the antics of one of her friends two-stepping in the crowd. Jeff leaned against a post and took a drink of his own beer, letting his eyes wander appreciatively over her compact frame: Narrow hips given a pleasing roundness in her Wranglers; small waist with her plaid shirt knotted over a white tee; sleeves rolled up to bare arms that looked like they were dotted with a million freckles, the dim light made it difficult to tell for certain.

Also difficult to tell was the color of her eyes, though he was sure they were either blue or green. There was no mistaking the life behind those eyes, though–lively and fun, but without the pretenses of many ladies he'd seen tonight. She seemed to laugh easily, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. Her friend stumbled back to her, gasping with laughter and blushing, and the two put their heads together for a giddy conference. When they looked back up, Jeff saw the redhead's eyes scan the crowd–and come to rest on him. He made no secret of having been caught watching her; instead, he nodded and raised his bottle to her. She blushed and smiled–and to his astonishment, she made a little "come here" wave.

He pointed to his chest. "Me?" he mouthed. No sense in making an idiot of himself, if she hadn't meant–

To his further surprise, she murmured an aside to her friend, then dove into the crowd and made her way toward him. So it was when she arrived, they were both a little breathless.

"Hi," he managed. Smooth, Tracy, he snorted to himself.

"Hi." She smiled. "You're Jeff Tracy, right?" She had to shout to be heard over the music.

He had a feeling she'd keep surprising him, which set his heart to beating a little faster than normal. "That's right, but how did you–"

She laughed. "My friend went to school with you."

"Uh oh," Jeff groaned, more than halfway serious. "Don't believe a word she's told you. Okay, maybe half." He grinned at her and stuck out his hand. "And you are–?"

She slid her hand into his–tiny, cool, and yes, freckled. "Lucille Caldwell. My friends call me Lucy." She glanced back over her shoulder, then back at Jeff. "Can we go somewhere else? I'm getting a headache, and I don't think it's just the beer."

Jeff took their bottles and dropped them into the recycling bucket. "It'd be my pleasure," he replied, and caught her hand to lead her outside.