Bahama Mama

by Tricia Leedom

  “What the hell, bro!” Anders brushed off his arm.

  Jimmy opened his mouth to respond, but then frowned at Sophie and said grumpily, “Go on, you tell it.”

  Sophie nodded and rubbed his shoulder. “Jimmy rescued Greenlee Fiori and her friend April from a bozo in Miami last autumn…”

  As Molly took another sip of champagne, she smiled at Sophie’s use of the term “bozo,” one of Jimmy’s favorite words. Realizing her glass was almost empty, she signaled to the waiter for a refill.

  “…when they got back to Key West, Greenlee spitefully told the cops Jimmy was transporting an illegal case of rum on his boat and got him arrested for smuggling.”

  “And Sophie was arrested for prostitution,” Jimmy added with a grumble.

  Sophie poked him in the ribs. “My mum is here.”

  “Oh, sorry. My bad. Don’t worry, Mrs. Stone, she only spent one night in jail.”

  When Lillian looked horrified, Mitch leaned toward her and whispered something in her ear. Whatever he said made a laugh bubble up her throat. She covered her mouth demurely and nodded an apology.

  Jimmy shook his head. “I’d think twice about letting that bit—”

  “Brat,” Sophie interrupted, clutching his wrist as she leaned against his arm. “There's a young lady present.”

  “I’d think twice about letting that brat watch your kid.”

  Cheyenne shrugged. “It’s all right, Jimmy. Greenlee Fiori is a bitch.”

  Molly almost spilled the fresh glass of Champagne she was leaning forward to sip. “Cheyenne Dallas MacBain!”

  Anders laughed first before Jimmy and the rest of the table joined him. Sophie looked stunned and Molly didn’t know what to think. Her baby girl didn’t curse. Ever. Of course, she couldn’t say the same about herself. Though she tried not to curse too much in front of Cheyenne. That was why she’d trained herself to say “dagnabit” when she really wanted to drop the F-bomb.

  She didn’t want to scold the girl for something she herself was thinking, so she said instead, “Now, Cheyenne, Greenlee is one of April’s friends. You told me she’s never been mean to you, and April says she’s trying to turn over a new leaf.”

  “That’s only because her sister is getting married and moving to Orlando. April says Greenlee’s trying to prove how responsible she can be so her father will let her live at the house in Key West by herself.”

  Jimmy snorted with disdain, but Anders leaned back in his seat and took another swig of beer. He was drinking Sam Adams, Molly noted with approval. He had good taste.

  “We were brats when we were teenagers too, brother.” Putting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, Anders shook him playfully. Molly stole a peek at him, all too conscious of the fact that she was probably never going to get an opportunity like this again. Anders was just sitting there across the table looking all gorgeous and relaxed like it was the most natural thing in the world to be hanging out with her group of friends. It was surreal. “I’m willing to give her a chance, but if I notice anything funny, I’ll can her.”

  Molly wanted to say something to him, but she couldn’t think of anything. The bruise on her leg was too distracting. It was throbbing like a kettledrum. Instead of relaxing her, the champagne was only making her more hyperaware. Her surroundings were a little brighter. The sounds of the sea and the chatter of conversation a little louder. The salty air a little brinier. The mingled perfumes and colognes of her dinner partners a little headier. And Anders was less than five feet away, larger than life.

  He was so stinkin’ handsome, she couldn’t keep her gaze from straying toward him. She was struck by his stark masculinity. The confident set of his broad shoulders. He was a man who was comfortable in his own skin. There was so much to like. His easy smile. His expressive eyes. Even the healing cut below his right eye was sexy. It was just deep enough it was probably going to leave a scar. And his voice, God, his voice. It was as rich and smoky as a fog-laden mountain valley. She followed his hand as it reached for the bottle of Sam Adams and tilted it to top off his glass. He had nice hands. The palms were broad. The fingers long and blunt. Talented hands that could play a guitar like nobody’s business. They were strong but gentle hands. She could attest to that since her breast had unexpectedly had the privilege of being nestled firmly in his grip. The memory of his touch lingered on her skin. The warmth spread to her limbs and a pulse began to thrum, slow and lush, deep inside her.

  She stood up quickly, starling herself and garnering strange looks from at least half the table. “I need some air,” she announced in explanation. Heat flushed her face as she grabbed her purse and fled inside the building. She was halfway to the ladies’ room before she realized the statement hadn’t made a lick of sense considering they were sitting on a patio beside the sea. She’d felt too closed in though. Suffocated by the stress of trying to play it cool in front of Anders when down deep she was as jittery as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  Molly was standing at the sink rooting through her purse when Sophie joined her in the ladies’ room.

  “Are you certain you’re not feeling poorly?”

  Molly shook her head. “No. It’s not that. I can’t do this. I can’t be near him and be myself.”

  “You’re talking about Anders? Why can’t you?”

  “Because…” Where to begin? How did she explain what she was feeling when she was feeling so many things? “He’s my UC.”

  “Your what?”

  “My unattainable crush. My fake celebrity boyfriend. He’s fictional. He’s not supposed to be sitting across the table from me drinking a beer with his brother. It’s like frickin’ Santa Claus decided to stay for Christmas dinner. Fantasy and reality are colliding in my world right now and it’s messing with my head.”

  Sophie opened her clutch and looked through it. “He’s a bit fitter than Father Christmas, isn’t he though?”

  That made Molly smile.

  Finding the tube of Givenchy Le Rouge at the bottom of her purse, Sophie popped the cap off and bent closer to the mirror. “Anders Ostergaard is just a man.” She paused to reapply the lipstick. “He swears, burps, and farts, just like the rest of us.”

  Molly laughed outright at that. Sophie was sounding more like Jimmy Panama every day, but that sounded a bit more like something Molly would say. “You don’t fart, Sophie. I don’t even think you poop. You’re too proper for that.”

  When their giggles faded, Molly said, “My head is spinning.”

  “You can’t be pickled. You barely drank two glasses of champagne. You just need to eat something. How’s your leg?”

  Molly touched her injured limb. “Kind of numb unless I bump it.”

  “It’ll hurt worse tomorrow.”

  Not only was Sophie smart, witty, and generous, she was a great listener and she had excellent taste in shoes. Molly felt blessed to call her a friend. A surge of emotion welled up inside her chest and her eyes filled with tears.

  “What’s this, hon?”

  “When I fell, I ruined the heels you gave me.”

  “Aww, I’ve got at least a dozen more just like them. You can have your pick. Even better, we’ll go shopping when I get back from my honeymoon, and I’ll treat you to a brand-new pair of your very own.”

  “I couldn’t accept that kind of gift from you.”

  “I insist. Consider it a belated maid of honor gift.”

  “But you already gave me a spa day.”

  “I gave one to Sue as well. But you’re my maid of honor.” Sophie put her arm around Molly’s shoulders and gave her a sideways hug. “I should’ve given you an extra special gift. A new pair of designer heels is perfect. Come on, let’s tidy you up. Dinner should be arriving soon, yeah?”

  Molly took a moment to powder her nose and fluff her hair. “It’s the eve of your wedding, and I’m ruining the night for you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pull you away from your own party.”

  “You didn’t pull me away. I needed
some air too.” Sophie winked mischievously and Molly couldn’t help but smile.

  When they exited the bathroom, they found Anders standing in the vestibule talking on his cell phone. The small room was cut off from the restaurant by another door that muted the outside world.

  He cursed and said tersely, “Email it to me now.” After tapping the screen to end the call, he started scrolling through the phone, searching for something. “Molly, can you hang back a minute?”

  Startled by the request, Molly looked at Sophie for help. Her friend motioned for her to go talk to him before she slipped out the door.

  Molly was trembling. He always made her tremble. Just a small vibration under the skin. Not enough to be physically noticeable unless you really looked for it but just enough to rattle her brain.

  Anders seemed to find what he was looking for and stopped scrolling. “My publicist found this on the internet. I thought you should know.” He turned the phone toward her so she could look at a picture and headline. It was an image of Molly and Anders. She was in his arms. His hand was unmistakably grabbing her breast. The headline read: COUNTRY CROONER CAUGHT CHEATING ON RECENTLY MURDERED FIANCE.

  “Three major trash mags are threatening to go with the story unless I give them something else. Selena is trying to squash it but says it’s too late for the internet story. Best she can do is get the site to take it down and we’ll have to ride the wave until the next big celebrity scandal comes along.”

  Molly felt queasy. She didn't know if she should be offended or embarrassed by the headline, but it didn’t matter. This was going to hurt him more than it hurt her. She had nothing at stake while he had everything. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

  Molly snorted. “That picture wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t been so stinkin’ clumsy. Your publicist thinks I set you up. How come you don’t?”

  “My publicist?”

  Molly nodded. “Selena. I met her this afternoon when she came into the bookshop.”

  He shook his head. “What was she doing there?”

  “Warning me away from you.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise, then he pursed his lips and nodded sagely. “Ah. Sorry about that. She means well, but when it comes to me sometimes she can be worse than a pit bull protecting a steak. I’m the steak in that scenario. Don’t worry about her bothering you again though. She was on her way out of town.”

  “Do you think I set you up?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “Nah. It was kinda obvious you didn’t know I was in Key West. Besides, Jimmy says you’re good people. He trusts you so I trust you, Molly.”

  Her heart did an odd little flip and warmth spread from her belly like a shot of whisky on a cold winter’s night. He knew her name, and he trusted her. How amazing was that?

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling at him.

  He sighed and looked away for a moment. Driving his fingers through his hair, he messed it up even more than it was and left it that way, which explained his perpetually tousled look. “People from the tabloids or media may try to contact you. Your best course of action is to say, ‘no comment.’ Anything else could possibly be misconstrued.”

  “Got it.”

  “Great.”

  He was such a nice man. A good man. So considerate and kind to his fans. And he was admired and respected by his peers. That was why she’d stayed loyal to him all these years—not just because he was incredibly talented and easy on the eyes. Though she admired him for those reasons too. In the fifteen years she’d been a fan, she’d never heard one negative thing about him from anybody. She knew he hadn’t killed his girlfriend, or whatever she was to him, just as certainly as she knew the grass was green and the sky was blue.

  The silence widened between them until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, then.” She turned to go because standing there saying nothing was just getting weird.

  “Molly?”

  A small thrill spiraled through her at the sound of her name.

  “Yeah?” Her hand was on the doorknob.

  “I don’t think you’ll hear from Selena again, but if you do, will you let me know?”

  “Sure.”

  He took out his wallet, flipped it open, and pulled out a business card. “Here.” He offered it to her. “It’s got my private cell number. Don’t hesitate to call.”

  Her hand trembled as she took the card. It started to slip from her fingers, but she caught it. She was pretty certain he didn’t notice because he was preoccupied opening the door for her.

  With Anders’s digits in her purse and his big hand on her back guiding her through the restaurant, Molly realized she was living one of her daydreams. She soaked in the moment, letting herself imagine a world where this was real. Where an average, red-headed nobody from a one-horse town in Oklahoma could actually be on date with her unattainable crush.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anders left the Bugatti in the hotel parking garage and opted to walk to Dixie’s on that bright June morning. He wanted to see if there was anything he could help Sue and Oscar with while they were busy setting up the bar for the wedding and the reception afterward. Obie was beside him, his nose not stuck in a comic book. The main reason Anders had suggested the walk was to give his son some fresh air and exercise.

  It was a pretty day for a wedding. The vast sky was built of layers of powder blue, turquoise, azure, and pale indigo. The sun was already baking the sidewalk, and the light breeze carried the scent of the sea.

  Obie still wasn’t speaking to him, but he was acknowledging his questions with a nod or shake of the head. Just the fact he was no longer looking at him like he was a walking, talking grizzly bear was a step in the right direction.

  Anders’ phone chirped in the holster clipped to his belt. Assuming it was just another text from Selena about the photograph debacle, he ignored it. She hadn’t been able to squash the story in the tabloids, and now the mainstream media was clamoring for a press conference. Anders wasn’t interested. Casey Conway’s funeral was today, and her family needed privacy to grieve during this sad time. The press was bound to sensationalize anything Anders confirmed or denied, so it was better to say nothing at all. Selena didn’t agree. She wanted Anders to skip his brother’s wedding and hop on the next flight to Nashville. She thought coming out of hiding and talking to the press would curb the rumors that he had something to hide.

  As they crossed the street to Dixie’s, the sound of music floated toward them. The crisp twang of a banjo whined over the live band. Anders recognized the melody as soon as he heard it because he’d written it. The rip-roaring bluegrass-inspired country song was his first number one record. The voice singing the song that made him famous wasn’t a baritone like himself. In fact, the voice wasn’t even male. A woman with a rich alto was belting out the lyrics and doing a fine job of it.

  He opened the glass door and motioned for Obie to go inside first. Anders wasn’t sure who he was expecting to find on stage, but it definitely wasn’t Molly MacBain. She was filling in for the lead singer of the cover band Jimmy had hired for the wedding. Molly sat on a stool looking as down-to-earth as a Southern girl could get, with her long, red-gold curls pulled back in a ponytail, a navy and white plaid shirt hanging open over a white tank top, and faded blue jeans tucked into an old pair of brown cowboy boots. She had a banjo on her knee and her mouth to the mic, pickin’ and singin’ the hell out of Anders’ fast-tempo song:

  * * *

  “…She was a fair, spare, raven-haired fun-lovin’ lady

  looking for a man. And, hell, it was payday

  A six-shooter on my hip, hip to let her rip

  Thirsting for some company, you bet I took a sip

  * * *

  Cheyenne, you’re tearing me apart

  Cheyenne, quit tryin’ to steal my heart

  Cheyenne, go easy on me now

  Cheyenne, you’re mine ‘til our time runs out…”

&nbs
p; * * *

  Anders pointed to the table nearest the door and Obie slid into a seat. The stage was on the far side of the long room and Molly had the glare of Fresnel lamps in her eyes, but Anders didn’t want to take a chance. He knew how nervous he made her feel. If he drew her notice, she might stop singing altogether and that would be a damn shame. Molly’s tone was rich and effortless, but there was this underlying bluesy quality to it that came through when she dug into the lyrics:

  * * *

  “When the evening iron horse made the shingles shudder

  I was at the mercy of a fancy frontier daughter

  A six-shooter on my hip, hip to let her rip

  She laid me down and went to town, yeah

  it was a Wild West courtship. Ye hawww!”

  * * *

  The famous intermezzo was all banjo. Fast-paced and tricky, it took a skilled picker to do it justice, and Molly was killin’ it and then some. The tempo sped up even faster. The lyrics in the next verse were meant to be sung double time as the song turned into a real barn burner. Molly stomped the heel of a dusty brown cowboy boot and kept on truckin’.

  * * *

  “She was a fair, spare, raven-haired fun-lovin’ lady

  who was having a fine time, while I was shouting mayday

  A six-shooter on my hip, hip to let her rip

  I was spent, spent the rent, and hell-bent

  And Cheyenne, she left me heartsick

  * * *

  Cheyenne, you’re tearing me apart

  Cheyenne, quit tryin’ to steal my heart

  Cheyenne, go easy on me now

  Cheyenne, you’re mine ‘til our time runs out

  * * *

  Cheyenne, you’re tearing me apart

  Cheyenne, don’t you go stealin’ my heart

  Cheyenne, think I’m fallin’ in love

  Cheyenne, you just went and broke this stud”