by CF Frizzell
“Thanks for the beer, Mel,” he said, brightening with her return. “Hope you’re finally relaxing. You need to get out and meet people.”
“Who could possibly meet more people in this damn town than I do?”
“You know what I mean. How long’s it been?”
“I beg your pardon.”
Mike rolled his eyes. “My Tammy’s been out of state for months, Mel. It’s no secret how long it’s been for me. For you? Want me to guess?”
“No, I certainly don’t. Is it written on my dammed forehead, for God’s sake? Shit.” She shifted uneasily in her seat and wiped moist palms on her jeans. Self-consciously, she removed her cap and tucked some rebellious hair behind an ear.
“Come on, Mel. I really think you just need a quickie.”
“Oh, thanks a lot. Look, just because you made best buddies with the out-and-proud Shay Maguire at the ranch the other day, you’re still not qualified to interfere with my personal life.”
“She made that photo shoot happen, you know. She’s cool, Mel. Very easygoing, nice to talk to, like you said she was that night at the Heights. I think you two would click big-time. Plus—and be honest—you know she’s a stud.”
“Drop it. Don’t even think about playing matchmaker.”
“Hey, she may not even show up tonight.”
“What?” Mel squared off with him and lowered her voice. “So. You know she’ll be here tonight, don’t you?” She sighed. “Stop this scheming, because nothing’s going to happen. It can’t. And, for your information, I don’t do quickies.”
“Well, you don’t do anything else, either.”
“Excuse me? Tell me again why I shouldn’t fire you.” He was being impossible. And he was right. She was cautious about letting anyone get close and justifiably so. It was going to drive her mad, give her a raging headache at least. Damn. Why am I here in the first place?
“Mel. Just get on your feet and dance. Simple. Everybody does it. There’s even a few straight couples on the floor now. No big deal. Doesn’t mean you have to get all tangled up, like that over there. Shay looks a bit disinterested at the moment.”
“I knew you were trying to set me up.” Mel’s eye for detail collected every one to do with Shay at the bar.
Mike pressed his shoulder to Mel’s. “Was that a ‘hmm’ or a ‘mmm’?”
She nudged him away. “Shut up.”
A petite blonde leaned more against Shay’s sleeveless white T than the bar. Shay finished her beer, and Mel watched the tendons in her throat flex as she swallowed. Mel swallowed without thinking.
“I’d say Shay’s not interested,” Mike muttered.
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, seems that way. Damn, she’s striking.”
Mike sent an amused look her way. “So, your ultimate butch stud?”
“Mmm.” She turned abruptly and eyed him hard. “Wait. What? Are you sure you’re not gay? When did you become such an expert at these things?”
“Oh, chill, Mel. It’s the same as any bar. Now, watch. The sweet little thing just won’t take the hint. Now this one, the bass player from the band coming over? They made eye contact.”
Fascinated, Mel noted the changes in Shay’s body language. Muscles in her upper arms clenched as she straightened and set her bottle on the bar. In fact, the entire T seemed to tighten across her shoulders, draw snugly over her small breasts, and cling to the flat plane of her stomach. That long, well-defined torso. Mel caught her mind wandering, recollecting the feel of Shay’s abs through the cotton, until the musician’s hand gripped one of those shoulders.
Shay glanced from the blonde at her left to the guitarist at her right, and introduced them to each other before slipping away.
Mel downed most of her beer watching, and when Shay disappeared into the stock room behind the stage, a raw emptiness swept through Mel’s system. Reality was a downer.
“Fun to watch, huh?” Mike offered. “I think the blonde’s cute, don’t you?”
Mel just responded with a noncommittal shrug and tilt of her head, and that act made her mind blur a bit. “I think it’s time for me to go. Three beers is my limit.”
“Let’s order a couple burgers and slow things down. It’s Friday night, Mel. What do ya say?”
“What I say is, there’s something innately messed up about an engaged straight guy following the action in a predominantly lesbian bar. You’re lucky I know you’re a good guy, otherwise I’d have to hurt you.”
She scanned the crowd, assessing her mental state. She’d always found it entertaining, seeing various exchanges play out in the crowd. No wonder Misty so named the club. But who was she kidding? Not even herself. Regardless of her reputation, her livelihood, this living vicariously through others wasn’t really living at all and she knew it. And now, here was Shay Maguire, whose very name Mel seemed unable to avoid, whose physical presence, she discovered, held her attention, wound her nerves, and energized her blood as surely as some surreal, magnetic force. She needed to push all that temptation down into the hole in her heart and stomp on it.
“So, Mel. Burgers?”
Snap out of it, sister. Beer or no beer, you’re losing it.
Shay reappeared from the back room, and Mel’s forehead broke out in a sweat. She upended her empty bottle, desperate for one last sip.
“Okay. Beer, yes. I do need another.”
Mike beamed and headed to the bar with a bounce in his step. She was moved by his good intentions, but it brought to mind—for the umpteenth time—just how strictly-business her life had become, how much of herself she had relinquished to her very public role. The conflict was exhausting.
Shay passed the stage again, but the bass player stepped down with one foot and blocked her path. Mel watched them both glance back to the blonde at the bar, right before the musician set a brief, flirtatious kiss on Shay’s mouth.
Mike returned to the table, but Mel’s gaze was riveted to the couple across the room.
“What’d I miss? She just kiss Shay?”
Mel inhaled and exhaled, glad to find a full beer within reach. “I bet they know each other really well.”
“Yeah, but, see? What’s stopping you, Mel?”
“Will you cut it out? That’s not my style. I…That’s just not me.”
Mel watched the couple part. The musician seemed to spot Shay wherever she was in the room, while Shay’s attention seemed to be everywhere and on no one in particular. Again, Mel’s mind wandered as her gaze followed Shay to the far corner of the bar. Shay didn’t appear swayed by any woman; maybe that was her style, no strings, no pressure. Not necessarily a bad thing.
She tuned out Mike’s rambling observations because every shift of Shay’s pronounced biceps, every body movement as she spoke with Misty caused muscles to shift across that broad back. Mel’s insides growled with a hunger she hadn’t experienced in ages. She attributed her arousal to too many beers, then had to clench her thighs together to squelch the surprising hum stirring between them. Oh, this is trouble.
*
Misty hustled to the far corner of the bar, where Shay stood leaning on her elbows, waiting. “May I help you, Chicago?”
“Oh, very cute. C’mere.”
“You look like you’re going to burst. What’s up?”
“Melissa Baker’s at that far table. Is she here on a date with Mike, her photographer?”
“Why, Shay Maguire.” Misty stood back and crossed her arms. “I thought you had taken a liking to a certain bass player on our stage.”
Leaning heavily on both arms, Shay looked down at the wood grain in the bar top. “I think it’s the other way around.”
“Melissa, huh? Guys aren’t her thing, remember?”
“Um, well, see, I think she’s watching me,” Shay whispered, then looked slightly away. “I mean, well, ’cause I’m watching her, and, I do know better, like, I know what you said, but—”
“God. You’re blushing.”
“The hell I am.”
“So?”
“A dance couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“It hasn’t been an issue for you since you came to town, Shay. Why would it be now?”
Shay only looked down, pausing too long. “I think she’s dangerous.”
“I see.”
Despite the flashing “No Hookups” sign in her mind, Shay couldn’t deny this pull. The decision to risk contact with Melissa Baker felt like someone had made it for her. “Look, a dance isn’t a big deal, right?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
“Oh, you’re a big help.” Shay frowned. “Hmm. I don’t know if I dare. She’s…she’s something else.”
“She’s had her eye on nothing but you all night.”
“Seriously? No, really?”
Misty flicked the bar towel at Shay’s arms. “Get away from me. God, you butches are such puppies.”
Shay strolled to the end of the bar, overtly casual, and glanced up to find Mike watching. Melissa was noticeably absent. Shay raised her beer to him and accepted his offer of the available chair at their table.
“How ya doin’, Shay? Have a seat.”
“Thanks. I’m good. Did I see Melissa with you?”
“Oh yeah. Ladies’ room. She’ll be right back.”
Shay tried to relax. “Good time at the ranch the other day, huh? Your pictures come out okay?”
“They’re great, in fact. First black bull calf born in these parts in fifteen years, so it’s something the ranchers all go nuts over. Glad it was you showing me around, though. Some of the ranch hands have a short fuse when it comes to human interest stuff.”
Melissa returned to the table and Shay’s pulse accelerated.
She stood and her brain faltered. Only a table and thousands of miles between them. Those mesmerizing eyes seized her, posed a million questions, offered a million answers. They were the eyes beneath that ball cap weeks ago. How they had intrigued her then, and dazzled during the Sorvini altercation, and beckoned all through sunset at the Heights. Now they came with a hint of welcome.
Dear God, please don’t let me fall down.
“Eh,” Mike tried, looking up from one to the other, “I believe you’ve met. Melissa Baker, Shay Maguire.”
Peripherally, Shay saw her hand extend over the table as if of its own accord. Melissa’s met hers halfway, smaller and warm, oh so warm, as Shay gently wrapped her fingers around it for a second time. Shay wondered if she’d pass out from the contact. She took a slow breath as heat shimmered up her arm and down, deep inside. She felt it threaten her knees.
Speak before you collapse, stupid.
“It’s great seeing you again.”
“Same here.”
“I’m glad we’ve bumped into each other like this. Do you—” Shay caught herself before asking the clichéd question.
“I’m not here too often, so it’s nice to run into you.”
“You can say that again,” Mike mumbled under his breath. “Guys. Sit down. You’re hurting my neck.”
“Let me get us another round?” Shay asked.
“I’ll go,” Mike said, up and gone before anyone had a chance to speak.
Shay chuckled at his hustle. “He’s either having a great time or can’t get away from this table fast enough.”
“Probably both.”
“Something I said?”
“He’s feeling pretty good about himself, I think. Getting me here is something of a victory. Social rather than business conversation for a change. And…” She shook her head.
“And?”
“And he’s going to gloat for days about getting you and me to the table.”
“Ah.” She bent forward. “I’m glad about it, too.” Melissa dipped her head and Shay fought the urge to reach across the table and touch her hand. Uncertain and surprisingly nervous, she wrapped her fingers around her bottle instead. “I think about our evening at the Heights a lot,” she said, as gently as the music would allow. Melissa looked up and Shay relished yet another surge of arousal. “I mean, I enjoyed talking with you, just being out there with someone…someone who gets it, too.”
“It’s nice that you’ve taken to Tomson the way you have, so quickly. Your sensitivity is…” She let the statement hang, apparently choosing not to reveal that opinion. “I’ve thought about that night, too.”
Mike cleared his throat as he approached.
Shay winked. “Our chaperone is back,” she whispered.
“Okay,” Mike announced, setting bottles in front of them. “Miss me?”
“No,” they answered in unison, then thanked him for the drinks.
“So, Shay,” Mike began, tucking himself up to the table, “What’s your impression of Della? You’ve met her, right?”
“I have. Quite the experience.”
Melissa sipped her beer. “I can just imagine.”
“She wanted to ream out the person who gave her surveyor a hard time at the Heights. She even brought out your Chronicle and pointed to the picture of me. She said that, as an employee, I shouldn’t have given her surveyor a problem.”
“You’re kidding,” Mike said.
Melissa dropped her hands into her lap. “Incredible.”
“She implied that I should be supporting the company.” She posted air quotes around the words.
Mel leaned forward. “So, you told her how you felt about being slugged, I hope.”
“Yes, Ms. Baker,” Shay said, enjoying the feel of the name as it crossed her lips, “I certainly did. Told her if that asshole had hit that woman, I would’ve taken him down. Instead, he knocked me senseless.”
“The surveyor was going to hit a woman?”
“Hell, yeah. I’d only been out joyriding, had no idea what the hell was going on. But when I saw him raise a fist to that woman, I pushed him away. Then he swung at me.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t end up in the hospital.”
“Eh.” Shay touched her wound gingerly and saw Mel’s gaze follow her hand. “It’s better now. I only remember it’s there when I get excited.” She prayed she wouldn’t blush. “That’s about the only time blood goes to my brain.”
They laughed, and Shay placed both palms on the table, hoping it would lend her strength for what she was about to do. She took a breath and rose out of her chair.
“Enough shop talk. Would you like to dance, Ms. Baker?”
Melissa’s inquisitive look had Shay uncertain of her next move.
“You’re saying there’s room on your dance card this evening? I couldn’t help but notice how popular you are here.”
How much of a player have I been?
Shay offered her hand, praying it would be accepted. “I’d love to dance with you.”
Melissa glanced at Mike and shook her head when he waggled his eyebrows. She sent a seemingly nervous glance over her shoulder at the full room, and finally agreed.
“Thank you.” She slid her palm into Shay’s and stood.
Absurdly nervous at their connection, Shay clutched Melissa’s hand carefully and rounded the table, then edged them into a small space within the slowly undulating dance crowd.
Don’t screw this up.
She placed a palm low on Melissa’s waist, hoping her jitters were hers alone to feel, and brought their united hands to rest against her upper chest. When Melissa’s other hand settled comfortably around the curve of Shay’s bare bicep, the sensation of skin against skin made Shay’s head throb. The warm, gentle grasp held an undercurrent that roared dangerously through Shay’s insides.
Melissa Baker was tender and willing in her hands, radiant in the colorful lights that flashed around the room, and Shay felt the beat of her heart increase, her breathing grow short. In an instant she could succumb to her over all others. She tamped down the yearning to draw her closer, to feel the length of her against her body. Whoa, slow down. Remember: one dance.
“Could I call you Mel? Would you mind?”
The slight upward curl of Mel’s lips was a
nswer enough, but Shay was glad to hear her voice it.
“I’d like that. All my friends do.”
They stepped to the music slowly, carefully, Shay’s nerves sharply attuned to their connection.
Unexpectedly, Melissa spoke, mere inches from Shay’s cheek. “This is where I usually ruin things.”
Shay looked down when Mel raised her head and their noses nearly touched. Jesus, you are beautiful. “That’s simply not possible.”
“It’s where I say something stupid.”
Shay danced them directly beneath the lights. “Try me.”
“I’m not a regular here. I mean…”
“Well, I have a ‘dance card,’ so, evidently, I am.”
Mel’s gaze briefly fell to the flimsy space between them. “I didn’t mean to be insulting. You just don’t strike me as the one-woman type.”
“Ah. Well, maybe I’m just letting what happens happen.”
“So you’re single and playing the field?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then, should I expect someone to come yank us apart at any second?”
“I’m married to my work, Shay. Playing the field is not an option.”
“I was, too, once. But sometimes the ‘real’ world hits you in the face and you’ve got to deal with it.”
“I suppose. Ultimately.”
“It can be smothering, not your scene, I know, but only if you let that overwhelm you. I hope to marry a business of my own again someday. It’s my number one goal, in fact, but…” Cripes, where is this coming from? Why? “We can’t shut ourselves off from the real world, miss something fate could offer. Magic happens, you know.”
“Very profound, Ms. Maguire. Magic, you say?”
Shay shrugged, a bit embarrassed to have pontificated as they danced. She supposed it was safer than drooling or letting her hands wander.
“Magic, yes. You never know where the real world will lead you.”
“No, you don’t,” Mel whispered. “So are you playing the field? Testing the waters of the real world?”
“Not deliberately, no. I’m all too aware of what has to come first.” Why does it matter if you believe me?
“You know, at the risk of saying something stupid again, I really am glad we’ve met.”