Page 48 of Steadfast

She looked proudly upon her creations that lined the bar as she wrote the flavors of each on a large chalkboard menu. She noted how fun it would be to have her followers vote on the names of each new menu item.

Hearing the door jingle open behind her, Oakleigh felt the familiar squeeze of Crew’s strong arms around her. She even felt herself enjoying the roughness of his five o’clock shadow as he nuzzled her neck. She threw her hand back, running her fingers through his mop of blonde hair before she turned to face him. Pulling him in close, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the softness of his lips on hers.

“And just what are you doing here?” she asked with a playfully demanding tone.

“I thought I’d take the night off from practice,” he said, flashing his attractive smile. “You know how Sawyer goes on and on about Live Music Night.”

For once, Oakleigh found herself speechless. Her eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

“Hewhat?”

“Yeah,” Crew chuckled. “He really likes it.”

Before she could start her argument about Sawyer’s dislike for anything except going out of his way to irritate her, the door jingled again. This time, it was Maeve who was already reaching to pull an apron off the hook.

Oakleigh went to snatch it from her grasp.

“Don’t even think about it, Maeve.”

“I’m here to help.” Maeve whipped the apron back.

“No, you’re actually not.” Oakleigh fought back, but they ended up in a tug of war with the sad red apron caught between both unyielding clutches. She finally yanked it free and hung it back on the hook.

“Don’t you have sandbags to stack or a Lil’ Slim to harass or something?” Oakleigh asked. With significant rain in the forecast, there had been a lengthy family meeting that morning regarding the preparations for the week.

“No sandbags until tomorrow,” Maeve answered. “Hope you’re ready.”

“I will be.” Oakleigh shrugged casually, attempting to hide her dread over the looming physical labor. “It’s your turn to relax. Go enjoy yourself, for once.” If she were going to prove that she could handle the business, Maeve would have to release her firm control and give her the opportunity to sink or swim.

Oakleigh was determined to swim.

“Okay, fine.” Maeve threw her hands up in surrender but was now eyeing the row of drinks on the bar. “What’s this?”

“This is our new fall drink lineup!” Mia clapped her hands and bounced excitedly. “And can I just say, you’re going to love it!”

Maeve raised an eyebrow as she lifted the first hot drink off the bar and took an uneasy sniff.

“Smells like a candle,” Maeve murmured. Daring to take a sip, she immediately winced. “Tastes like a candle too.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Audrey took a giant eraser and swiped away the caramel apple drink off the board.

“Okay, fine, maybe it’s not perfect yet,” Oakleigh rolled her eyes at Maeve’s predictable reaction. She snatched the eraser from Audrey’s grasp before she could erase any more, “—Or maybe you’re just not the right audience, Maeve.”

“You’re right, Oakleigh, that’s probably it,” Maeve conceded, with a twinkle of amusement in her eye.

Word spread that a popular contemporary bluegrass band was booked for Live Music Night. The turnout was even greater than Oakleigh had anticipated, and the cafe was packed with hardly any room to dance.

Oakleigh and Audrey hustled behind the counter, rapidly filling drink orders. Mia spent her evening greeting people atthe door, knowing now how to put her natural gift to good use. Their teamwork paid off as they exchanged looks of accomplishment over the overflowing tip jar.

“Everyone is so generous!” Mia exclaimed as she picked up a few dollars that had tumbled out.

“Yeah,sogenerous,” Oakleigh muttered distractedly while silently taking a tally of each local who had never tipped her a single dime since she had taken over the shop. The difference was Mia, who couldn’t help but flirt with every cowboy who strolled through the door.

When the music started, Oakleigh realized why the band had drawn such a large audience. The twangy banjo complimented the lilting sound of the lead singer and the clanking beat of the spoons.

It was far from Oakleigh’s favorite type of music, but even she found herself tapping her foot.

Dallas squeezed through the crowd and past the counter where Oakleigh stood. He tipped his black cowboy hat when he recognized her in the dim lighting.

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