“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“He doesn’t like to talk about it.” Mike polished another beer mug. “I’ve only lived here since last October, so I never heard him perform, but I’ve heard recordings.”
“And?”
He leaned toward her and lowered his voice another notch. “Some people are born knowing how to make music. My grandfather was like that. Irish tenor. Bryce is a born musician. I predict he won’t be happy until he goes back to it.”
“And you want him to be happy.”
“I want everyone to be happy.” He shrugged. “But sometimes the path is confusing. Bryce’s path is clear as a bell. For him it’s all about music.”
“Have you told him?”
“I sidled up to the topic a time or two and he wasn’t having any of it so I backed off.” He took another beer mug from the rack that had come out of the dishwasher and rubbed the faceted base until it sparkled like a fine-cut diamond. “Like I said, you might have better luck.”
“How did you hear recordings?”
“A few are loaded onto the sound system here. Since he came on as manager, he’s asked me not to air those songs.” He put another mug on the pyramid behind the bar before moving close again. “I’ve heard him say that some of his music will never see the light of day.”
“Why not?”
“I’m only guessing, but my money’s on the ones he wrote for Charity.”
“He wrote songs for charitable organizations?”
“No, he wrote songs for his bride-to-be, Charity Bledsoe. I never met her, but everybody says she was a piece of work.”
“Oh.” A fiancée. That could be a valuable piece of the puzzle.
He finished polishing and stacking the last of the beer mugs, bid her and Bryce goodbye and left. Jenny and the other server did, too.
Bryce closed out the cash register and came down to Nicole’s end of the bar. “I believe I promised you peach cobbler a la mode.”
“You did, and I’m not leaving without it.”
“Then give me a few minutes.” He opened the hinged countertop at the far end of the bar and ducked out. After locking the front door, he walked back to the kitchen and flipped on a light.
“Want me to help?”
“That will only make you an accessory,” he called back. “If Frank has a coronary over some missing cobbler, I’ll take the rap. He’ll have no trouble believing that I ate it all myself.”
“Now I’m feeling nervous about your cook taking inventory tomorrow. You didn’t tell me about that on Monday night.”
Not long afterward, Bryce came out with two bowls of warm cobbler heaped with ice cream and a stack of dinner napkins under his arm. “I was kidding. Frank doesn’t care. Besides getting the room upstairs, I’m allowed to have whatever I want from the kitchen. If one of my brothers comes by, I can offer him a free beer without getting in trouble.”
“The owner obviously trusts you.”
“I’ve known him a long time.” Setting the bowls on the bar, he gave her most of the napkins before sliding onto the stool next to her. “When you grow up in a small town, people have the goods on you from day one.” He glanced at her with a smile. “Dig in.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Because she was more comfortable with him now, she didn’t even try to be dainty. When the cobbler was gone, she scraped the bowl to get any remaining yumminess.
“The spoon won’t get it all. Use your finger.”
She looked over and discovered him doing exactly that. She put down her spoon and ran her finger around the inner surface of the bowl. Sitting next to Bryce while licking melted ice cream and peach juice off her sticky finger was the most sensual thing she’d done fully clothed.
“Am I right or what?”
She met his warm gaze. “Of course you’re right. You’re also a bad influence.”
“Thank you. By the way, what did you think of the band tonight?”
“I like them. I like them a lot, actually.”
“Me, too. I’ve been auditioning bands to find the right sound for the rehearsal dinner and these guys have it, at least in my opinion.”
“I think they’d be great.”
“Good. I’ll try to get Zane and Mandy in here tomorrow night and make sure they agree. I’m running out of time and I want that night to be special.”
“It will be. You’re a terrific host.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and that dancing thing—you have a reputation around here, don’t you?”
He shrugged and gave her a little-boy grin. “I might.”
“People don’t clear the floor unless they’re expecting a show. Is the waltz your specialty, by chance?”
“Sort of. But to be fair, I tried to get people out there with us.”
“Which was never going to happen.”
His blue eyes twinkled with laughter. “No, it wasn’t. But if we’d danced during the fast number, we would have blended in with everybody else.”
“I’m not convinced of that, either. I’ll bet we would’ve become the center of attention no matter what the band played.”
“Maybe. But you could have handled it. You’re not as out of practice as you think. Anyway, to get the most from a waltz, you need the whole floor.” He paused. “Want to do it again?”
“Now?”
“Sure.”
“No band.”
“I can make music happen. The GG has a sound system.”
Her heartbeat picked up. Waltzing with him when no one was around would be romantic and sexy. It could lead to more than dancing, but only if she wanted it to. Bryce was a gentleman. And a fabulous dancer. “Then let’s do it.”
Chapter Eight
Bryce should have his head examined. His mom had warned him to be careful and here he was inviting Nicole to dance in a very private setting. He’d turned the lights down at close of business, too, like he always did.
He hadn’t planned this moment in advance. That wasn’t his style. But if a guy wanted a seductive atmosphere, he couldn’t ask for a better setup.
Seduction wasn’t his aim, though. Nicole had music in her soul and rhythm in her body. That bastard Ray had kept her off the dance floor for God knows how long. She deserved to get back some of what she’d lost by hanging out with that loser.
The computerized sound system was Bryce’s pride and joy. He’d helped Lou install it years ago and had recommended housing everything in a cupboard behind the bar where it could be accessible but secure. Every few months he’d updated the selection and he’d done it again after coming back from Texas.
He walked around to the cupboard, opened it and turned on the power. “Any requests? I’ll bet I have every country song you could think of.”
“How about Stealing a Poor Cowboy’s Heart?”
“I have that. It’s even a waltz.” Could be a coincidence that she’d asked for that song. He cued it up.
“Is it the one by that group…what’s their name again?”
“The Bannister Brothers. Yep.”
“Do you have your version?”
Oh. He lifted his head to meet her steady gaze. “Why do you think such a thing exists?”
“Might not, but then again, you wrote it.”
No coincidence, then. “You’ve been doing your research.”
“I saw the boxes of recording equipment in your apartment so I looked you up. Do you have a recording of you performing that song? If you do, I’d ten times rather dance to that.”
“The Bannister Brothers do a much better job with it.”
“But you have it, right?”
“I do, but—”
“Then play that version. Please.”
“It’s not professional quality. I uploaded a few songs a couple of years ago because customers asked and Lou insisted it was good for business.”
“I’m a customer. And I’m asking.”
He’d landed himself in this situation. He could beg off by telling
her that he’d carefully avoided hearing these recordings for the past year. And didn’t that sound lame? He cussed himself out for not deleting them now that he had access to the sound system twenty-four-seven. Could have solved the whole problem.
“Hey.” She slid off her stool and moved down the bar until they were face-to-face. “Never mind.” Her eyes glowed with sympathy. “That was pushy of me. You don’t have to play it.”
Great. She was feeling sorry for him. He flashed her a smile. “No worries. If you’d like to hear it, why not dust it off? I haven’t listened to it myself in a while. Maybe I’ll be pleasantly surprised.” He pushed Play and the intro poured through the speakers mounted in every corner of the room. He controlled a shudder. Surrounded by his music. Terrific.
He came out from behind the bar and took her hand. “Let’s dance.”
Her gaze focused on his as she stepped into his arms. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Holding her and moving through the dance steps helped distract him, thank God. If he had to hear himself singing and playing, this wasn’t a bad way to go. She looked so damned happy as he whirled her around the dance floor. That made his suffering worth it.
The song ended before he was ready to let her go.
She didn’t seem in any hurry to move away, either, and not just because she was out of breath. Her expression was luminous. “Oh, Bryce, that was incredible.”
“Dancing’s fun.”
“Not the dancing. Your song. The way you sang it, the way you played it.” She swallowed as if battling strong emotions. “So, so good.” Her voice was husky.
He tensed. Next she’d ask him why he’d quit.
She cleared her throat. “But I’ll bet you don’t want to talk about your music.”
“Not particularly.”
“The waltz was amazing, too.” She stepped back. “Perfect ending to the evening.” She took a deep breath. “Time for me to head home and check on Jimi.”
What? She was leaving? Surprise kept him glued in place.
She was on the move, though. Walking over to the bar, she picked up her purse where she’d left it on a stool. “Guess I’ll need you to unlock the front door for me.”
“Right.” He snapped out of his daze and went to retrieve his keys from where he’d left them beside his empty cobbler bowl. She hadn’t asked him the obvious question. Imagine that.
She put her purse strap over her shoulder. “You’re right about the empty floor. A waltz needs that kind of room.”
“I love a good waltz.” He picked up the keys.
“Me, too.” She started toward the door.
Keys in hand, he followed. Then he stopped. He couldn’t just let her go. Their interaction felt incomplete, like a song that had ended a measure too early. “Nicole, wait.”
“What?” She turned around.
“Why didn’t you ask me why I quit playing?”
“After hearing that song, I don’t need to.”
“Why not?”
Her voice softened. “You put your whole heart into your music. It’s obvious to me that someone ripped your heart right out of your chest. I don’t know exactly how she did it, but that’s not important. What’s important is she left you empty, with nothing to give.”
His throat hurt. She’d nailed it in a way that no one else had, not even those closest to him. He shouldn’t be surprised, though. Her connection to music was deep, too, so of course she’d hear it in his work.
“Everybody kept mentioning how good you were, so I wanted to find out for myself. Now I know why you didn’t want to play your version of the song. I’m glad you did for my sake, but I’m so sorry I put you through it. It must have felt like going to your own funeral.”
“Exactly.” She got it. What a miracle. “But at least I was dancing at my own funeral. You were my salvation.”
“Only fair, since I was the one who dug up the body.”
He gazed at her. “Do you actually have to go check on Jimi?”
“No. I thought you needed some space.”
“So did I, but maybe…” He took a breath. Reconsidered. “Hey, never mind. It’s a boring story. There’s no reason to—”
“How do you know it’s boring? Do people fall asleep when you tell it?”
“I don’t tell it.” He grimaced. “No need to. Everybody knows.”
“I don’t.” She smiled. “Want to buy me a beer?”
The tightness in his chest began to loosen. “It would be my pleasure.”
Moments later he’d replaced the empty cobbler bowls with foam-topped mugs of beer. He took the stool beside her and lifted his mug in her direction. “To the music.”
“To the music.” She touched her mug to his and sipped cautiously so she wouldn’t spill any.
He took a healthy swallow before setting his mug on the bar. He stared into the amber depths. “Charity was my high school sweetheart. We talked about marriage when we were still teenagers, but agreed to wait until I got my career going.”
“You mean like selling a lot of songs?”
He looked at her. “That’s what I thought. Come to find out, she had a different view of success. That was partly my fault. When I was eighteen and stupid, I went along with her dream that I’d become as famous as the country singers on TV. Later I toned it down and told her I’d be perfectly happy to live in Eagles Nest, perform at the GG, and write songs on the side.”
“Let me guess. She didn’t hear what you were saying.”
“Apparently not. After I sold a few songs to major labels, she must have thought fame and fortune were right around the corner. She set a date for our wedding. I was all for it. I loved her. What a damned fool I was.”
She reached over and gave his arm a squeeze.
“You may think so, too, when you hear this part.” He glanced over at her. “Three hours before the wedding, an agent in Nashville called. Wanted to represent me. Offered to advance me the money to move back there.”
“Wow.”
“I turned him down.”
Her eyes widened.
“See? I am a crazy damned fool. Anyone with a lick of sense would have grabbed that offer.”
“Not if you don’t want that life.”
Her gaze soothed him in ways nothing else could have. “Which I didn’t. Charity and I weren’t supposed to see each other until she walked down the aisle, so I figured on telling her after the wedding. It was a no-brainer. She wouldn’t want me to take an offer that chilled my blood.”
“So you got married that day?”
“We did not. Somebody overheard me talking to my brothers about the offer and they relayed the info to my bride. I was standing at the altar when her maid of honor came with a note that said If you won’t get me out of this godforsaken town, I’ll handle it myself. She was gone.”
“Good Lord. That’s cold.”
He nodded. “It froze me right up, I can tell you that.”
“Has she ever come back?”
“Not that I know of, but for months I kept expecting her to. I pictured a tearful reunion in which she told me she’d been a fool, she loved only me and would I please forgive her.” He gazed at Nicole. “That’s the hell of it. I couldn’t believe that the woman I was planning to spend my life with would do such a thing. I was in denial for a long time.”
“Not anymore?”
He polished off his beer. “It’s been eleven months. She’s not coming back.”
“Do you want her to?”
“No, not anymore.” He swiveled his stool to face her.
She swiveled hers, too, and their knees touched the way they had the first time she’d shared peach cobbler with him. “Thank you for telling me.” She drank the last of her beer and set it on the bar.
“The whole town knows about it, so I figured it’d be better if you heard it from me.”
Her expression softened. “Everyone must love you very much.”
“Why do you say that?”
“
I’ve been here since April and this is the first I’ve heard of your disastrous wedding day.”
“So you really had no clue?”
“Tonight Mike said something about an ex-fiancée named Charity who, to quote him, was a piece of work, although he admitted he’d never met her. But that’s all I knew. Oh, and he told me that some of your recordings were on the sound system.”
He sighed. “Mike has a musically inclined grandfather back in County Cork. My decision to stop making music bugs the hell out of him. He says it’s my destiny.”
“After waltzing to that song, I agree with Mike.”
If anyone else had said that, he’d discount it. People he loved and who loved him often took that attitude. He appreciated every kind word from friends and family, but Nicole was a musician. That meant her comments earned double points. He studied her for several long moments.
“What is it?”
“You’re way too appealing. And you’re flattering my ego.” He slid off the stool.
“Not on purpose! I’ve heard your music and I think—where are you going?”
“To unlock the door.”
“Are you expecting someone?”
“I’m expecting a certain someone to go home and check on Jimi before I make an indecent proposal.”
“Indecent?” She climbed down, grabbed her purse and followed him to the door. “You’re the most decent guy I’ve ever met.”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” He unlocked the door.
“Then enlighten me. Make your indecent proposal. I guarantee I won’t faint.”
“Nope. I have no business making a move on you.”
“Really?” She looped her purse strap over her shoulder. “Why?”
“I have some experience in this area of breakups. Yours is extremely recent.”
“Correct.”
“You said the other night you question your judgment when it comes to men.”
“But that was a week ago and since then things have progressed between us.”
That made him laugh.
“Am I wrong?”
“No, but that’s my point. They shouldn’t progress beyond this point.”
“A week ago I would have agreed with you, but now I ask myself, how can I improve my judgment if I don’t get to know guys other than Ray?”
A Cowboy's Heart (The McGavin Brothers Book 4) Page 7