Page 116 of The Last Dance You Saved
Would that be enough when she deserved so much more?
When I finally opened the door, I was immediately hit with sounds and scents I knew well. Chatter eased by alcohol. The clink of glasses. The smell of fried food from the bar’s kitchen. Music. Country music that had never been my go-to, even in my youth, but had hovered around me ever since I’d watched an imp with bluebell-colored eyes dance in my bar.
I scanned the faces for Sadie and came up empty. My jaw clenched, worry coasting through me. I made my way to the bar, shrugged off my suit jacket, and hung it over the back of the stool. I sat down at the shiny, lacquered bar, tapping my fingers along the surface as I continued to search the crowd for the one person I’d come for.
“What can I get ya?” the bartender asked. He looked as old as the bar, with white hair, a mustache that could have easily graced a wanted poster from the 1800s, and skin that looked like crinkled leather. What had Eva said his name was? Tom? Tim? Ted.
“Bourbon. Neat. The most expensive you have.”
Sadie had liked my bourbon. What did she serve here? Would it be the cheap, Tennessee knockoff I didn’t consider actual alcohol?
Ted didn’t take offense at the attitude dripping from my words. He didn’t look like he got upset about anything. I wasn’t even sure he was real.
While I waited, I took in the dust-covered décor, the cracked vinyl booths, and the floors that needed refinishing. They didn’t deserve Sadie any more than I did. She was too bright. Too big. Too beautiful for them, but I doubted she’d see it that way.
More likely, she’d think I didn’t deserve to be sitting on her worn leather stool.
Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I didn’t deserve to have her accept my apology, to have me go down on one knee and beg her to come away with me. But what I deserved and what I got hadn’t been the same thing for a long time. I wasn’t giving her up now that I’d found her. Not when I had a plan to give her everything she wanted and more.
I must have made a noise, grunted to myself or something, because the bartender raised an eyebrow as he set down my drink. I ignored him and picked up the glass, twirling it in the dim light. I was startled to see he’d served it to me in Baccarat crystal, and when I took a sip, I was astonished again to taste one of my favorite brands instead of the cheap stuff.
It made me take a closer look at my surroundings. All the decanters on the shelves were crystal. The bar back was a delight of stained glass, beveled mirrors, aged wood, and carved pillars. The lighting needed improvement, leaving the place broody and ominous instead of rich and luxurious, but that was an easy fix. The crown molding and decorative detail needed refinishing just like the sticky bar top, but if I squinted, I could see how it had all been elegant in its day. Expensive and old. And I knew old. The Harringtons had done their best to surround themselves in it, hadn’t they?
The sound system had been blaring when I’d walked in, and now a band took the stage. I groaned internally as live country music winged through the room. The male artist dove right in, crowing about relationships gone bad, dead dogs, his grandfather’s truck, and a broken heart.
I couldn’t handle the idea I’d broken Sadie’s heart, even temporarily. Just as I couldn’t handle the idea of Sadie stomping her boots to music just like this with burly men joining her. Men just like the ones she’d been teaching to line dance in my piano bar. Determination hardened inside me. She’d promised me all her last dances, and I’d be damned if she went back on it. I’d be damned if she gave them to anyone else.
I pulled out my wallet, put five crisp hundred dollar bills out on the bar, and said, “I’ll pay another five if you can get the band to stop.”
The bartender’s smile stretched wide. He glanced at the money, squinted at my face, and then threw the towel he was using over his shoulder before slipping out from behind the bar to join the lead singer on stage. The scruffy kid didn’t look happy when he glanced my way, but he took the money and stormed off.
“Sorry, folks. Our nightly entertainment has been put on hold for now,” Ted said into the mic.
Groans and moans echoed through the packed house.
All I could think was how blessed the silence was. It gave me a moment to think. To plan. To come up with a really good line Sadie wouldn’t be able to say no to.
“What the hell happened to the music?” the smooth, sexy voice I’d heard in my dreams filled the bar, and my insides clenched. My dick hardened. My heart beat increased by a thousand-fold.
I knew what she’d look like before I even turned around.
Her eyes would be flashing warning signs. Her artfully shaped brows would be drawn together. And that utterly kissable mouth would be pulled down at the corners. It was the way she’d looked at me multiple times in the week we’d spent together.
But the way she’d looked spread out on my bed, the way she’d looked with the moonlight feasting on her just as I did…that was the reason I was sitting at a sticky bar, thinking about all the ways I could convince her to give me another chance. I’d spend thousands of dollars here, on a venture that made absolutely no goddamn sense, on anything she wanted, if she’d only forgive me for bringing pain and heartache and death to her door. If only she’d say yes to being mine forever.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Sadie
I’M GONNA LOVE YOU
Performed by Cody Johnson and Carrie Underwood
I’d shown up at the bar, expecting it to be empty, expecting to be able to use my muscles to quiet the thoughts in my head. Instead, I’d found Ted, Patti, and Tillie, along with several other Main Street business owners, already at work, setting things to right. It had ripped at my numbness, gratitude and love for an entire town attempting to slip past it.
When more people kept showing up, some to gossip and some for our normal Thursday-night specials, and every single one of them rolled up their sleeves to help, I’d had to duck into the bathroom to pull myself together. My blessed numbness had been threatened, but I caught it and pulled it back. Instead, I concentrated on ways I could pay them back. I wished I had something to give the community more than just a place to drink beer and catch up on the latest gossip.
When I’d gone back out and seen that the office and bar were sparkly clean, I’d sent Ted up front to start handing out glasses of beer and bourbon and turned my attention to the delivery that had arrived while I’d been at the hospital. I was just taking a stack of empty boxes out to the trash when the music cut off in the middle of the song Grady had been singing. I tossed the cardboard into the dumpster, but when I came back in, and the bar was still silent, worry shoved past the numbness.
