Page 11 of Defending What is Mine

Chapter Six

Sam:Then—Last August

I watch Hank crook his elbow on the table and lean in to Jack—close enough to ensure he’ll be heard over the sad excuse for singing onstage. Now that we’re here, I regret ever thinking karaoke night at The Lazy Saddle would be the perfect venue for my first (real) date with Jack.

“I’m just saying, I always enjoy listening to Mollie sing. And I don’t mind being here, with you”—Hank waves his hand between Jack and me—“on your little date. But if you are planning on starting any shit to try and pressure me into getting up there...” He gestures at the stage. “You and I are going to tango. And I don’t mean dancing.”

Jack politely nods along as Hank clearly states his warning, a sly smile creeping up at the edges of his mouth. When Hank is through, Jack gives a light and friendly punch to Hank’s shoulder, acknowledging that he understands. “I hear ya. Loud and clear.” Jack leans over, hanging his elbow on the back of his brother’s chair. “But, can you remember the last time we ‘tangoed’ where you actually won? I think I was fifteen, right? And, you realize in the decade or so since, I’ve grown, become an officer in the U.S. Army, and been trained in multiple forms of lethal hand-to-hand combat?”

Now Hank is the one politely nodding along, but before Jack finishes his sentence Hank’s smile disappears. He levels a glare as he knocks Jack’s elbow from his chair. “You think any of that changes the fact that I was, am, and always will be your older brother?”

For a moment, I freeze. Horrified by the thought that my first, official date with Jack is going to end in a fist fight. Based on, like, every similar interaction I’ve ever witnessed with my brother, Clinton. But then—and I don’t understand how or why—both men practically fall out of their seats laughing.

Confused by the schizophrenic-like changes in mood, I quickly scan the bar for Mollie, praying she’ll return from the restroom before I drown in all of this macho, bro-ness I obviously don’t understand.

“You ready for another?” Hank asks through a chuckle as he points at my drink. “I’m tired of waiting around to not be served, so I’m heading to the bar.”

I nod. “Whiskey sour. Thanks,” I yell over the screeching rendition of “Satisfaction” emanating from the obviously drunk, way-too-short-to-be-worn-in-public pair of cut-offs and cowboy boots stumbling around on stage.

Hank turns his attention back to Jack. “You gonna nurse that beer all night? Or are you ready to step up to a real drink?”

Jack raises the bottle to the light. “Looks like I’m still half-full, thanks though.”

“You’ve been sipping a light beer for half an hour, and it isn’t empty?” Hank shakes his head. “And I’m supposed to be scared by that? Oh yeah, real intimidating. Captain.” He snaps his heels together and stands at attention as he mock salutes his brother before turning for the bar.

With Hank out of the way, it’s time to make hay while the sun shines. So, like any self-respecting woman would, I hastily hop-scooch my chair toward Jack while jerking my head for him to lean closer. Alright maybenot the mostgraceful move, but I know Hank will be back soon and once he returns—based on how tonight has gone up to this point—I’ll be back to fighting him for Jack’s attention. As I bring my mouth to his ear, a whiff of his cologne hits my nostrils and I have to literally squeeze my legs tight to push down the mischievous little thought in my head. Definitely regret choosing The Saddle for our date. “You and your brother have…um, an interesting relationship.”

“What? You mean that?” Jack sits back in his chair and thumbs toward the bar. “I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to throw me off my game, hoping to get me drunk enough to make a fool of myself.” Jack nods at the stage. “Up there.”

Staring at my empty glass, I playfully roll the bottom against the table. “I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind watching that either.”

“Well…” Jack tilts his head and raises his brow. “The odds of anyone hearing me sing anywhere other than the shower have got to be pretty damned small.” He lifts his beer up to his mouth and takes a small pull. “But…the whole time I’ve been ‘nursing’ this beer, I have been trying to work up the courage to ask if you’d like to help me make a fool of myself…out there.” Jack tilts the neck of his beer toward the small area in front of the stage where a few brave souls are gathered.

“Are you asking me to dance?”

For the briefest of moments, I think, maybe, Jack is embarrassed. But if he is, he puts it away so quickly that I can’t be sure. With his eyes trained on the cowgirl trying not to fall off the stage as she exits, Jack answers. “If I was, would you say yes?”

I happily nod. “I would.”

“Then, yes. Yes, I was.” Jack stands and extends his hand. “Would you do me the honor?”

“But, the music stopped,” I say, placing my hand in his.

“Really? You don’t hear that?” Jack looks around, smiling as he brings his hand to his ear, as if to magnify some imaginary sound.

I laugh. “Oh, boy. Maybe you’re not so different from the rest, after all.”

His playful smile falls. “Hey now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, of the few—and I’m talking single digits here, pal—offers I’ve received in the last…” I cover my mouth and cough the number “…years, it became an expectation that, at some point in the evening, they would inevitably reveal some unique trivia about themselves.” I chuckle. “I guess that’s just par for the course in my dating life.”

Jack cocks his head. “Something unique, like, hearing music that no one else can hear?”

“Exactly.”

With a wry little smile, he tugs my hand and pulls me from my seat, dragging me to the dancefloor.

His hands fall to my hips and—just like that—my body wants to melt into his as we begin to dance, slow and sweet.Jack gently rubs his nose against mine, working to catch my gaze. “Back there…” he nods his head toward our table. “I was planning to go with a line. Something like, with a girl as pretty as you, we’ll make our own music. But after you called me out, I realized how cheesy it sounded and decided to improvise.”

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