Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93301 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“That’s awesome.” She bellied up against the bar and gave me a devilish grin. “So make me a drink, barkeep. Let’s watch some sports ball. Get mad and shout things at TVs. Root, root, root for the home team.”
Laughing, I shook my head. “I don’t even have any liquor yet, and the televisions aren’t hooked up.”
“Bummer.” She sighed and turned around, ambling across the floor, her hand trailing along the back of a chair. “So did you always want to own a bar?”
“Not particularly.” I was trying to keep my thoughts professional, or at least platonic, but my eyes kept drifting. That red hair. The curvy hips. Those fucking boots.
“Did you think you’d be in the Navy forever?” She turned one of the chairs around and straddled it, elbows on the table, chin resting on one fist.
My throat was so dry. If I’d had any whiskey behind the bar, I’d have poured myself a shot. “I never really thought too far ahead.”
“You were more of a take-each-day-as-it-comes kind of guy?”
“That’s kind of how they trained us. To focus on the thing we’re doing at the time and not stress about what was left to do or what was coming next. It would have been too easy to get overwhelmed and quit.”
“Did you ever think about quitting?”
“During training? Sure. Everyone did. But I was a stubborn motherfucker.”
One side of her mouth curved up. “Oh, I know all about that.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about those open thighs beneath the table, the way she’d straddled me last night. My mouth on her tits. Fuck.
“What about you?” I asked, trying to redirect.
“Me?” She touched her collarbone, right where I’d laid my forehead last night. “I was always focused on music. When I was little, my daddy used to play in local bars, and Mama would bring Kevin and me along to watch. I was mesmerized by the sound, the lights, the applause. He was having so much fun on that stage, and everyone loved him. Sometimes he’d bring me up there with him and we’d sing together. It just felt like magic to sing and make people smile or whistle or jump up and dance.”
“Does it still?”
She looked surprised by the question. “Still what?”
“Feel like magic.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe it does. I’m just asking.”
“Sure, it does. I mean, maybe not every single night, but that’s a lot to ask. Every performer gets tired. But I try to remember that even though I’ve sung a certain song hundreds of times, someone out there might be hearing it for the first time, or maybe hear it differently that night because of what’s going on in their life.” She shook her head. “I never want to let anyone down.”
I studied her from across the room and felt the urge to take her in my arms and hide her away from the world. “That sounds exhausting. No wonder you wanted time away from that world.”
“I’m fine.” She got up from the chair and slid it beneath the table again. “I’m ready to go when you are.”
“That’s my house right there,” I said as we passed it. “The red brick on the right.”
“Wait, we’re not stopping?” She turned to me, a look of distress on her face. “I want to see where you live. Where you grew up.”
“You want to go in?”
“Yes.” She tugged my sleeve. “Come on, please?”
Grumbling under my breath, I turned around in a neighbor’s driveway and pulled into mine. My dad’s car was gone, so I figured he was already at Austin’s house.
“This is so nice,” Kelly said as I led her up the front walk. She stopped to admire the hydrangeas, bending down to touch the silvery leaf of a lamb’s ear plant.
“Thanks.” I unlocked the front door and let her go in first. “Might be a little messy in here. My dad isn’t the neatest housekeeper, and I’ve been gone for a couple days.”
“That’s okay.” As soon as she walked in, my dad’s dog, a German Australian Shepherd mix, came rushing over, excited about visitors. Kelly laughed, bending down to give him some love. “Hi, cutie. What’s your name?”
“Fritz,” I told her, shutting the door behind us.
“Hi, Fritz.” She scratched behind his ears while he licked her knees and I tried not to be jealous of a dog. “What a handsome boy.”
“Do you have a dog?” I asked.
“No. I want to get one, but my mom has bad allergies and she lives with me. Maybe someday. Kevin and I always wanted a dog.” She began to wander through the rooms on the first floor, and Fritz stuck close to her side, completely devoted.
Trailing them from the dining room through the kitchen into the living room, I found myself slightly self-conscious about the well-worn furniture, the frayed carpet, the outdated appliances, the faded photos on the walls. For someone like her, who probably had a big fancy Nashville mansion, would a place like this seem shabby and run-down?