How do you feel about Dave Alvin?
Came the text message Jo received from Tim several days after their little sleepover. The query held more significance to it than the innocent question it appeared at face value to be.
She knew Dave Alvin was playing at a roadhouse some fifty miles outside Lexington that evening, as she was, in fact, a fan of the musician. Although, if Tim were asking, that meant he was considering requesting she attend the concert with him, and that sounded an awful lot like a date to her.
Jo weighed her options carefully. She could say no, and squash any ill-conceived notions of their relationship being anything more than just sex in its tracks. She could also say yes, and see an artist she enjoyed with a man who, admittedly, wasn't terrible to hang around with. However, the second option would open a can of worms she wasn't entirely prepared to deal with just yet.
Almost as though Tim could sense her hesitancy through the device, he followed up with a second text message.
His concert is tonight, and far enough out that no one will see us.
Throwing caution to the wind, she figured, what was the worst that could happen?
Sure, let's do it.
What was the worst that could happen, indeed.
She'd had a late deposition scheduled, so Jo agreed to meet Tim at the bar once her work was finished. Unbeknownst to the pair, this had inadvertently been their saving grace. Neither was aware Winona had spotted the fellow Marshal from across the crowded roadhouse, nor her insistence that she and Raylan leave rather than getting caught in public together. By the time Jo made an appearance, the other couple had already fled the concert, and they were none the wiser.
Saddling up next to Tim at the bar, Jo placed a gentle had on his shoulder, alerting him to her presence. After exchanging pleasantries, she went about ordering her own beer from the bartender while he gave her a once over.
He'd only ever seen her dressed in power suits or nothing at all; tonight, she wore a form-fitting dress. The array of professional, classy, and casual all suited her equally, he realized, so he commented, "you look nice."
Jo's face scrunched at the comment; she was never one to trust compliments or niceties of any kind. She believed flattery was only ever accompanied by someone wanting something in return.
Lifting the beer to her lips, she took a sip before asking, "you wanna go find a table?" Unknowingly, they chose to occupy the very same table Winona and Raylan had previously vacated for fear of being caught together.
The two observed the concert in silence, both sat tense and awkward in their seats, but Jo drummed her fingers along to the music nonetheless. When a slower song began, Tim leaned over her chair, arm resting along the back, and whispered in her ear, "you know, I still owe you two questions."
The feel of his breath on the shell of her ear had Jo suppressing a shudder. When her head snapped towards him, she found his face still hovered close to hers, the warmth from his arm burning through her clothing and into her back.
"You sure you wanna do this now, Deputy?" She challenged while leaning forward in her chair, trying to create some much-needed space between them.
Being seen together in public was one thing, but Jo certainly wasn't going to risk a full-blown make out happening in the middle of a crowded bar as Dave Alvin crooned in the background.
Tim took a sip of his beer and merely inclined his head in answer. Shifting in her seat to face the Marshal, Jo tuned out the concert continuing to take place in front of them. "Alright," she began, "why did you join the Army?" It was a simple enough question, one that didn't quite carry the same dramatics of their heated conversation weeks prior.
"My father was an asshole. I enlisted to get away from him," Tim confessed. "He died before I got back from basic." The topic of fathers was an already sensitive one, so she quickly proceeded to her final query, before he could choose to linger on the subject.
"Why did you invite me here tonight?" She asked while pinning him down with a scrutinizing stare.
Tim didn't answer immediately. He finished his beer, placing the now empty glass back on the tabletop, then turned to give her his full attention. God, Jo hated that look; it felt like he was attempting to read her mind when he gazed at her like that.
"Do you wanna hear the truth, or what'll make you happy?" Tim offered her a choice. Damn him for knowing that those two things weren't one and the same, she scolded silently.
"What'll make me happy," Jo decided, he laughed lightly at her selection.
"Well, I thought you'd want to see Dave Alvin," Tim responded genuinely.
Jo should've left it at that; her better sense told her to accept the given answer and drop the matter entirely. However, she found herself adding, against her better judgment, "and the truth?"
Tim leaned into her again, his breath and cologne washing over Jo like a cool autumn breeze. She shivered inadvertently from their close proximity.
"I like being around you," he admitted, then turned back to watch the concert without paying her any further mind.