by Fields, MJ
His hand rests on top of mine, the warm weight grounding me into this moment. In twenty-four hours, my world with him has evolved into a new universe.
He takes another drink of water and then looks over at me. “It’s late, and I have to be back in the morning. You ready to head out?” Adam asks.
I nod even though my body is screaming no.
“Sure. Hey, you never said where you would travel. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”
“Capri, Italy. I hear they have magnificent sunsets.”
“That’s awfully romantic.”
“I’m a pretty romantic guy.”
He stands and then holds a hand out to help me up. I take it, and when I’m upright, he lifts his other hand to my face and brushes his thumb along my cheek.
“You had paint right there,” he says, a slight quirk to his mouth.
“You could have told me that earlier. God, I’m a wreck.” I grab the hem of the too-big T-shirt and hold it out. “I have to give this back to you.”
He lets go of me and starts collecting the blankets from the tailgate. “Keep it,” he says over his shoulder. “You look cute.” He gathers the trash and then jumps off the tailgate before helping me down.
We climb into the front seats.
I’m pulling my seat belt over me when I hear, “Leah?” I’m clicking the buckle when he says, “Next time you play Peeping Tom, make sure you put my mirrors back.”
My eyes close in mortification.
We spend the duration of the ride with a blush on my face and a smile on his.
Twelve
“All right, all right, all right!” I strut on the top of the bar, wearing my frayed Daisy Dukes, a bikini top, and a leather vest. Paired with cowboy boots and a hat, and I’m one Bucking Bronco cowgirl in full effect.
“I wanna see some sexy ladies on the bar tonight. Who’s ready to get on up here and dance?” I shout into the crowd.
I am bombarded with dozens of raised hands.
Paulie plays some Big & Rich, and the barbacks help some girls up, so they won’t trip. As the girls try to show off their goods, I’ve got a microphone, and I am getting the crowd to sing “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy).” I like to stick to either really popular songs or ones that are fairly old to ensure the crowd knows the words. There is nothing worse than a nonparticipating group.
A girl shimmies over and leans into me, so she can sing into the microphone. She reeks of perfume and desperation. I let her sing while keeping a strong hold on the mic. When she’s done, I hop down from the bar and walk over to an oversize speaker that is on the floor by the mechanical bull. Stepping on it, I have a new makeshift stage for myself. I like the oak bar, but sometimes, the girls get very touchy-feely when they’re up there. I’m all for a good time, but if we’re not friends, please don’t touch. It’s creepy.
I’ve got the crowd singing at the top of their lungs. The place is going wild when the front door opens, and in walks someone I wasn’t expecting to see—at least not in pedestrian clothes.
Adam’s presence makes me stop singing temporarily, but no one seems to notice.
They’re all filling the void as they chime in with the chorus.
With my wits regained, I go back to chanting the words and pretend like I don’t see him.
He’s standing against the wall by the front door, looking around the room. He’s done this before, but there’s something about the way he’s leaning on one leg with his hands deep in his pockets that lets me know he’s not here for work. His eyes are missing that scowl. In fact, he looks a bit lost.
The tables are all full, and every stool at the bar is taken. I stay where I am and continue working. After this, Paulie will pick another song, and we’ll host a competition on the mechanical bull. The prize is a free happy hour.
Thirteen people enter, and by the time I’m done hosting the competition and the bar goes back to normal, I am sweaty, and my throat is dry. I walk back to the bar and fill a glass with water, looking back toward the front entrance. While my breath relaxes, my heart drops a little. I raise the glass to my lips and take a drink.
I’m taking said drink and nearly choke in surprise at the sight of Adam at the far end of the bar. He’s talking to my friend Jessica. Yes, talking. Not interrogating. Not condoning. He’s actually sitting on a stool, drinking a beer, like a normal person.
I quickly spin around and check myself out in the mirror behind the liquor shelf. Christ on crutches, I look like a madam in a whore den. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I look good. Legs for days in the Daisy Dukes and a tummy I work crazy hard on to keep nice and tight. Even the tatas are nice and high, glistening a little. Let’s be honest; I rock this outfit. But, still, it is a little much.
I lean over and grab my makeup bag that I keep stashed behind the bar. I need some fresh lip gloss on this pout. I squat down on the floor, open my bag, and take a peek in my compact mirror. I run my fingers under my eyes, add a little powder, and spray some Bath & Body Works over myself. I pop up from the floor and glance over to where Adam is. Or I should say, where he’s not. He’s no longer at the bar, and he’s not standing by the wall.
My shoulders fall.
“Do you see the craziness that is happening on the dance floor?”
My head shoots up at Suzanne’s words.
“Hey,” I say, snapping out of my inner thoughts, “when did you get here?”
Suzanne is leaning over the bar, the excitement in her eyes making them wide and shiny. “Jessica is grinding it up with Adam. Like, they’re dancing. As in, Adam actually moves.”
If I were holding a glass in my hand, I’m sure it would fall to the ground right now. He’s dancing? With a girl? With one of my friends?
My head turns so damn fast toward the dance floor, and sure as shit, there’s Adam and Jessica. Her long brown hair is swaying from side to side with the movement of her body. They’re not touching, but they’re close. Too close for my liking. Her double Ds are one jiggle away from colliding with his chest.
I can feel my jaw hanging down from my face.
Jessica is a nice girl. She’s part of my crew. But she’s so not Adam’s type. She likes to ski, eats sushi, and runs half marathons for charities. She’s a teacher and fosters rescue dogs for fun. She’s really pretty and funny and—goddamn it, she’s actually perfect for him.
“That is the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t even know she liked him,” Suzanne shouts from her side of the bar.
I walk over to her and raise my right shoulder up to my ear. “I think it’s a terrible match. She can do so much better.”
Someone is waving their money, trying to get my attention to make them a drink. I look over at the guy and take the order.
I’m shaking up a Kamikaze, a little too vigorously perhaps, as Suzanne says, “You have to admit it; they kinda make sense.”
I cast a casual glance over to the dance floor and feign indifference. Indifference? Ha! In that casual glance, I see Jessica’s hand running from the top of Adam’s neck, down his back and over his ass.
“Eh. I give it to the end of the song, and then they’ll never speak to each other again.” I pour the drink, pop open two beers, and take the guy’s cash.
When I turn back to Suzanne, her eyes are squinty, and her mouth is curled in this very odd way. She looks like she’s having a stroke.
“You like him.”
I lean back and blow air out of my mouth. “Who? Adam? Never.”
Suzanne is slowly nodding her head, still doing that awkward mouth thing. “You. Like. Adam,” she says loudly.
I lean over the bar and cover her mouth with my hand. “Will you shut up? There are a million people here tonight. And, no, I don’t like him. He’s uptight and boring and—”
“Incredibly hot,” Suzanne says as she takes my hand off her mouth. “You say it all the time. He’s hot, but he’s drab. I don’t remember exactly what happened, but you two used to be friends, and t
hen, one day, you decided that no one was allowed to like him, talk to him, or even mention his name. Every time he walks in this bar, you freeze up. When you see him on the street, you start acting all funny. I thought it had something to do with Brad’s death, but it’s deeper, and I can’t believe it took me this long to see it.”
I hold up my finger to her face. “Stop it right there. I don’t like Adam, and that’s final. Besides, I told you, we called a truce. We’re friends now.” I take a beer from the cooler and pop it open. Putting the bottle to my lips, I take a sip and let the ice-cold brew cool down my body.
Suzanne’s brows are raised. “You only drink when he’s around.”
I stop mid gulp. Putting the bottle down, I give her a stern eye, “Sue, I mean it.”
“I won’t say another word. But you’d better get your emotions in check. You and Adam have been spending a lot of time together, and nothing can happen between the two of you. If you start dating your officer and word gets out then everyone will think he made this arrangement because you’re sleeping together. He could lose his job for that and you won’t get your liquor license. Everything you and your family has worked for—every dime you’ve saved, your parents’ house, your grandparent’s bonds—will be lost.”
She’s right. Not that I’ve put any thought into actually pursuing Adam. Maybe we had a moment in his truck, but even if we become the best of friends, nothing will change the one thing that binds us for eternity—Brad. I’m still the girlfriend, and he’ll always be the best friend. There are too many memories and even more regrets to ever allow us to move past that.
“You know what? I think Adam and Jessica make a great pair. We should push it.” My head is bobbing at an excitable rate.
“Glad you feel that way because they’re headed this way now.”
My head stops bobbing.
“Hello, ladies!” Jessica says as she moves through people to get to the bar. Her arm is extended back because it’s holding on to Adam’s as she drags him up to the bar.
Her skin is flushed, but her lipstick is still on her face. I can’t even bring myself to look at him. I turn away and take a few orders, focusing all my attention on making drinks. There is a handsome-looking guy with dark hair who is leaning his elbow on the bar and has a hundred-dollar bill in his hand. There’s a pretty decent-sized crew of guys behind him.
“Six shots of Jameson, a Jack and ginger, two Captain and Cokes, two Stellas, two Chimay drafts, and a Sam Adams,” he shouts his large order.
I start with the beers and then make the drinks. When they’re all on the bar, I give him a total and ask if he needs anything else. His eyes linger on my breasts. I have to clear my throat to get his attention back up to my eyeballs.
“Just your number, sexy,” he says.
Dipping my hand in my back pocket, I grab a Sharpie I stored there from earlier and write down a phone number. As I’m handing the number to the guy, I see Ron’s head bobbing up from the crowd. He sees the exchange and shakes his head with a smirk. Ron knows I like to give his number out. It’s easier than turning someone down and them making a scene. Most of the time, they meet someone else before the night is over and forget about me. On the off chance that they do call, they get Ron, who pretends he’s my boyfriend and goes apeshit on them. It’s a win-win situation.
I walk back toward my friends and Adam, who is looking good in a blue crew-neck T-shirt and jeans. They still don’t have drinks in front of them.
“Fancy seeing you two together,” I say with a wink. “What can I get you crazy kids?”
“Blue Moon for me. Adam, what are you having?”
Jessica looks behind herself to Adam, and so do I.
Instead of answering her, he’s staring at me, penetrating so deep into me that the room goes silent. There’s movement in my periphery, but all I can focus on is him. A chill runs down my spine and my teeth graze my bottom lip because I need something to do with my mouth.
His tall frame is standing strong, but his face looks torn. Not over what drink to have. Torn over something else.
“I’m good. Gonna call it a night,” he says, still looking back at me.
“Already? It’s still early,” Jessica says.
Adam breaks our connection, looks down at her, and says, “Yeah, I have to be up early tomorrow. Leah, I’ll pick you up at nine.”
I salute him. “Yes, sir.”
It’s at this moment he looks beyond my face and down—down my neck and across my chest that is falling out of my bikini top and further down to my exposed stomach that is contracted with nerves. I can feel the heat of his gaze to my navel.
I watch his eyes slide back up my body, and when we’re staring eye-to-eye again, he breathes, “You might want to cover up a bit.”
He nods good-bye to Jessica and Suzanne and leaves the bar as I blink at his departure.
“Oh my God,” Jessica squeals, “you have to put in a word with him for me tomorrow!”
In slow motion, my head moves to Jessica’s.
“A word. With Adam.” I’m stuttering.
“I like him so much. He’s cute and respectful. When we were dancing, we were talking, and he’s really funny. Can you believe that?”
Yes, I can.
She continues, “He’s not like the other guys I date. I mean, he saves people for a living! And can we talk about how good he looks in his uniform? I don’t know what it is about him, but lately, he’s been acting differently. I saw him in town the other day, and he was smiling. Oh God, that smile. I’m such a loser. I’m blushing. Do you see this? I am totally smitten.”
I blink at Jessica, taking in her gushing. She never gets like this about guys, especially since her previous boyfriend cheated on her last year. All the girl wants in life is to meet a nice guy, settle down, and have babies. If there is anyone who is driven to find love, it’s Jessica.
“Absolutely. I think you two would make a great couple!” I have the biggest smile on my face. “I think this calls for some shots!”
When I hold up a bottle of Southern Comfort, Jessica claps in excitement. Suzanne, on the other hand, is giving me the biggest killjoy look I’ve ever seen.
Ignoring her condemnation, I pour two shots, hand one to Jessica, and cheers.
“So, you and Jessica were having a good time last night,” I say from my perch on a large rock.
Adam is working at a table with a circular saw, cutting trim to go around the doors. Instead of answering my question, he makes a mark on the wood.
“She’s a teacher at the middle school. A whiz at math.”
He doesn’t flinch at my remarks. Just continues lining the wood up to the saw. He pulls the trigger, and the saw roars. He cuts the wood, turns the machine off, and blows the dust off the end of the trim.
He’s not acknowledging my words, so I push forward. “Did you know she was Miss Teen Ohio? Growing up, she competed in a lot of pageants. It’s not all makeup and pretty dresses. She had to visit hospitals and hang with sick kids, volunteer at the soup kitchen…”
He leans over, and I stop to admire his backside before continuing, “She’s a lifeguard, too. Knows CPR.”
He lifts his forearm and wipes the sweat off his forehead. It’s ninety degrees today, and there’s no wind whistling through the trees. I walk over to a nearby cooler and grab two waters. I hand one of the bottles to Adam.
“Thanks,” he says. He opens it and chugs the entire thing. His Adam’s apple dances with every gulp. When he’s done, he throws it in the nearby trash. “It’s fucking hot today.”
I nod in agreement and open my water bottle. Adam’s yoga-pants-only policy is making me die of heat exhaustion. Hence, why I’m hanging in the shade while he plays with machines.
As I take a drink, Adam crosses his arms in front of his body, grabs the hem of his T-shirt, and lifts it over his head. What’s left is nothing but gleaming golden-tan skin and a six-pack stomach sprinkled with dark hair. He even has a bit of a farmer’s tan from wor
king outside in a T-shirt all day.
I’m suddenly very cold. Ice cold. The water from my bottle misses my lips and falls down my T-shirt. I look down and jump back, holding my water bottle up in the air.
“Crap!” I shout as I pull my shirt away from my chest.
Adam laughs. “I thought you were all for wet T-shirt contests?”
I tilt my head and give him the finger. “Don’t you wish?”
“You okay over there?” His eyes are dancing.
“I’m fine,” I say.
I hold the bottle to my mouth to take an actual drink. I try not to look at his perfect body as he leans over the circular saw and makes another cut. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing those damn paint-splattered jeans that make his ass look spectacular. And the construction boots…
“Leah?”
I look up to his face.
With a devilish grin, he says, “Do you mind grabbing my hammer?”
“Huh?”
“And my drill. I really need to screw something.”
“Your what?”
“I need to pound my hammer into a nail.”
I bat my lashes, trying to decipher if he’s using dirty euphemisms or if he actually wants a hammer and a drill.
“Leah, my hammer? My drill? I’ll carry the wood into the house, but I need you to get my tools.”
Yeah, he actually means he wants supplies.
“So, you really think Jessica and I should get together?”
I nearly hammer a finishing nail into my finger. “Yes, I think you two would have fun together.” Taking the next nail from my pocket, I hold it up to the wood and lightly hammer it in. “Do you date, or are you a love-’em-and-leave-’em kinda guy?” I pat my bottom, looking for another nail in my pocket but don’t feel one.
Adam holds a nail out to me. “What kind of question is that?”
“I know everything about everyone in town. I never see you out with anyone. You mentioned that Maggie girl but no one else. Why is that?”
Adam purses his lips. “I don’t know. Don’t have time. I work a lot. I’m not into the party scene.” He rises from the floor as he continues, “I don’t drink, and if I do, it’s just beer. Besides, most girls in this town don’t do it for me.”