Although the worst of evening rush hour ended an hour earlier, plenty of motorists were going about their routines. She sped up to keep pace and watched for the Truman Road exit. Once out of the worst traffic, her nerves eased as things felt more familiar. Deidre recognized supermarkets and discount stores where she once shopped. A Mexican restaurant she had called a favorite remained in business and judging by the full parking lot, it was still popular. As she drew closer to the Power and Light area downtown, she could almost forget she’d been away, living another life as someone else. Here, she was comfortable in her skin. The neon signs, bright lights, and busy traffic quickened her blood. She’d missed the pace of a city, the vibrant and hectic spirit. Small town life failed to suit her and no man she’d met during her time in Arkansas came anywhere close to Quinn. The deer hunters, the avid fishermen, the would-be musicians who played twangy music, the camouflage wearing men all lacked appeal. If Deirdre never spent time again with anyone wearing cowboy boots or Western hats, she’d be good with it.
