Page 6 of The Last Dance You Saved
I watched every step, noticing with surprise that Mattie’s assistant bartender pushed a finger of amber liquid rather than a fruit-filled mixed drink her way. I liked the idea of her drinking my bourbon. Liked what those perky lips would taste like if I slid my tongue over them afterward.
I hated how much I wanted to do just that. How much I wanted her.
She slid onto the stool, and that delightfully flirty dress rode up just enough to give me a glimpse of a toned thigh. I turned away, gritted my teeth, and helped Mattie and Dan the Piano Man wheel the baby grand back into place.
Mattie whispered, “She paid for a round for the entire bar. It was a harmless diversion. A handful of songs at most.”
“And a first-time customer who wandered in hoping for a quiet place to relax and heard that racket would have walked right back out and not returned.”
Mattie didn’t reply, but she did shoot me a remorseful glance before heading for the bar.
Knowing I’d made too much of the incident only irritated me more as I sank into the corner booth in the darkest part of the room with the permanent “reserved” sign resting on the table. It was my booth. My bar. My casino. My rules. I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened my management app, and attempted to scroll through the daily numbers. But I wasn’t really seeing them.
My attention kept wandering to the bar, watching as Mattie said something to Sadie that made the vixen throw her head back and laugh. It was quiet enough I couldn’t hear the sound of it across the room with the piano at work. My chest ached to hear the tinkling chimes, my body grew tight at the unfulfilled expectation, and my mind pushed it all away.
Sadie rose from the stool, turning so I could see she had two rocks glasses in her hands. My shoulders tensed even more, knowing before she’d even taken a step in my direction that she was coming to me, bringing me the one glass I allowed myself to savor each night.
She set the drinks on my table and slid into the booth without an invitation.
“Drink’s on me,” she said with a lopsided smile that caused my heart to backfire.
I scoffed. “It’s all on me.”
Her lips instantly flattened, the happy look replaced with an assessing one that I worried, for two beats, might actually see beyond my exterior walls. I instinctively reinforced them, tucking away every emotion. I’d be damned if she’d read any of it. Not the lust. Not the poetry that sprung to mind whenever those eyes met mine. Not even the irritation I felt for her ruining my peace.
“Mattie told me you own the place. Pretty young to have your own casino,” she said. I wasn’t sure if it was a taunt because of what I’d said earlier about her age, an attempt to wheedle her way into my life, or just conversation.
I didn’t respond. I just met her stare with my own as I fought the desire to drag her around the booth and kiss her until those crystal-clear eyes turned cloudy, and the taste of bourbon on her lips was replaced with the taste of me.
She looked away first, fiddling with a strand of fringe on her dress before glancing back up. “I own a bar. My family owns a…hotel of sorts. It’s a lot of work. You never really get a break. You’re always on.”
Every time I thought I had her sorted and pegged, she surprised me. “You own a bar?”
She huffed out another laugh, impish lips twisting upward again. “I inherited it from my uncle. It’s been in the family for over a hundred years.”
“What are you doing on the dart circuit then?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. I silently cursed myself. I needed her to go, not invite her to stay and spill her guts.
“I needed the money,” she said with a careless shrug that had the dress’s tiny strap slipping to the edge of her shoulder, tempting me to tug it down or rip it completely off. “What are you doing sponsoring a dart competition?”
I pulled my eyes up to her face. “My operations manager insisted the television coverage would be good advertisement. But I won’t host it again.”
It hadn’t brought the type of crowd I wanted to The Fortress. It brought bare-chested mountain men who drank beer from ridiculous hats. It brought impish vixens who screamed temptation.
“Doesn’t look like you need advertisement,” she said, glancing around at the completely occupied booths.
Even without the dart competition, the hotel would have been fully occupied, just like every available seat at the casino tables was taken, and my restaurants had a waitlist. But I knew, more than anyone, how fast that could change. I had successful bars that had turned into duds and clubs that only pulled in profit when a steady stream of ad revenue was sent their way. Keeping everything in the black was a balancing act that took both hard reins and soft hands. It was a heady dance, different than the one I’d spent my formative years performing with the unbroken horses on the ranch, but still a dance.
Once again, she filled my nonresponse with another question. “Do you ever take a moment off? To breathe? To just relax?”
Ever since she’d walked into the club the day before with her dart case in hand, she’d worn a smile. Most of the time, it had been as light and alive as the one she’d had while dancing with the two fans moments ago, but once in a while, I’d seen the smile slip. Seen a glimpse of something deeper, darker that lingered for a moment before the smile returned. It made her all the more attractive.
Sadie ran a hand through thick strands, tucking them behind an ear, and then looked up at me with an expression brimming with hunger—that same longing that had been zinging through me since the moment she’d shown up in my club with a dart case in hand.
“I don’t get to relax very often,” she said. “My siblings told me to celebrate. Hence the dress.” She waved down at the sparkling concoction dancing with a light that couldn’t compete with her internal one. “And the drink.” She picked up the glass, tossed back the remaining contents, and put it down before meeting my gaze head on again. “And you.”
The desire smoldering in me burst into an inferno at those two simple words.
I’d had plenty of women come on to me over the years, but I’d never had this visceral of a reaction to one.
