Bahama Mama

by Tricia Leedom

  “That’s terrific,” the photographer said, directing them as he snapped pictures. “Now look this way.” He took several shots before he stopped to change his flashbulb. “Thanks, guys. Maid of honor, you’ve got a killer smile.”

  “Yeah, she does,” Anders agreed.

  It wasn’t the first time in her life a man had complimented her on her smile, but it was the first time Anders Ostergaard had ever complimented her and for that reason alone she blushed so hotly the roots of her red hair flamed blue.

  “Let’s finish with the bridesmaid and groomsman…” The photographer moved on and Molly and Anders stepped to the side.

  Molly hated feeling so flustered around him. She needed to push through her nerves just like she did when she stood up on stage in front of a large audience. Inhaling deeply, she blew out her breath forcing the jitters out of her system. Then, with determination, she turned and met his eyes.

  Her heart skittered a little when she found him studying her with mild curiosity. She fought the urge to shrink away and studied him right back.

  A smile rested on his lips. Beyond his dark blonde head, the sky was deep purple as the last remnants of the day disappearing beyond the horizon. Dozens of globe string lights crisscrossed above the patio space, casting a soft golden glow over the rooftop. The breeze lifted the fine curls escaping from her loosely piled up-do and tickled the top of her shoulders. She shivered even though the air was warm. The scent of the sea mingled with the smell of the mouthwatering meal Oscar’s team was preparing downstairs.

  “That was the best line you’ve got?” Molly raised her eyebrows skeptically.

  “What? You didn’t like that one? Don’t worry. I’ve got a million of ’em.” He cleared his throat with all seriousness before his eyes took on a smoky cast. “Are you a baker? Because you’ve got nice buns, hun.” His tone was an intimate rumble she felt deep in her abdomen, but as far as pickup lines went, it was ridiculous. “Are you a beaver? Because, dam, you look good in that dress.” His gaze raked over her body as if he meant it and butterflies unfurled in her stomach.

  If he’d been flirting with her for real, she would’ve melted like a stick of butter on a hot dashboard.

  Molly waved at him to stop. “All right, I’ve had enough. Good thing you’re famous or you’d probably never get a date with pathetic lines like those.”

  His eyebrows shot up as he pretended to be shocked by her declaration. “Pathetic? You’re saying no woman would date me if I wasn’t famous?”

  Feeling buoyant and a little giddy, Molly gave him a flirty sideways glance. “Something like that.”

  His eyes glittered with mischief as he put his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Molly MacBain. Guess I better not quit my day job?”

  “Guess you better not.”

  Confidence coiled in her belly and put a strut in her step as she headed for the stairs. She might still be vibrating like a hummingbird on the inside, but she’d managed to be more like herself with him and it had felt absolutely amazing.

  Now she just had to sing in front of him again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Molly was still soaring when she stopped at the bar for a shot of Scotch to loosen her pipes before she joined the band on stage. At the moment, they were rocking out to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ in honor of the groom. Billy, the bartender, set a glass in front of her when she slid onto a stool. He was a handsome guy in his late forties, tall and lanky with a goatee and a twinkle in his dark eyes. She liked him and liked to flirt with him, even though he had a longtime live-in girlfriend who was a waitress over at the Hog’s Breath Saloon. Molly usually only had a one finger’s width pour, but tonight, Billy gave her two.

  “You sure know how to treat a lady right.”

  He grinned, sliding the glass of Glenlivet toward her. “Trained by the best. Nice wedding?”

  “It was perfect. I’m so happy for Sophie and Jimmy.”

  “He’s a lucky man.”

  Molly took a sip of the whisky. The woody taste coated her tongue and went down her throat in a smooth burn before it settled, warm and fuzzy, in her belly. She took another sip. “When are you going to get married, Billy?”

  “Aw, hell, I’ve been with the same woman for fourteen years. I don’t need a piece of paper to make it legit.”

  “No, I suppose you don’t. Charlene’s a lucky lady to have you.”

  He snorted. “Tell her that.”

  “I will. Next time I see her.”

  Billy tilted the bottle to top off her drink. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. Are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “It’s a party.” His dark eyes glittered. “Enjoy yourself.”

  The band was wrapping the last chorus of ‘Sweet Home Alabama’. Molly’s cue. She took another sip of whisky and nodded thanks to Billy before she headed to the stage. The restaurant’s small four top tables were classed up for the night with white hibiscus floral centerpieces and linen tablecloths. Most of the wedding guests were drinking and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres in their assigned seats, but a few people were at the bar.

  Big Roy Dodge, the bearded, pot-bellied lead singer of the band, leaned into the mic. “Here she is, straight from the bridal party. You can catch her here at Dixie’s twice a week. Our own lovely, good golly Miss Molly MacBain.”

  Molly received an enthusiastic round of applause as she climbed the steps. She waved and set her whisky glass on a stool next to the microphone. The amber liquid sloshed around but thankfully didn’t spill. She slid onto the stool Roy had vacated and accepted her acoustic guitar from a young, pimple-faced technician before he dashed away to adjust the lighting.

  “Thanks, Roy. Thanks, everybody,” she said into the mic, testing out the volume while she adjusted the stand.

  Sue appeared at the bottom of the stairs. She waved at Molly indicating the bride and groom were almost ready to be announced. The tables closest to the stage had been removed to create a larger dance floor. The center table in the front row was reserved for the bride and groom and Sophie’s parents who had just taken their seats.

  “How y’all doing tonight?”

  The chatter miraculously quieted. This was a different audience than the usual bar crowd. These people were friends, neighbors, and family who were actually interested in hearing her sing.

  “It’s almost time to announce the couple of the evening. Just waiting for the thumbs-up.” Molly shielded her eyes to look for Sue who had disappeared back into the stairwell.

  Anders appeared in the doorframe, looking tall and gorgeous as he scanned the dimly lit room before making his way to the bar. Billy’s face lit up when he saw him. A big fan like Molly, Billy was still as freaked out as she was to learn Anders was his boss. The two men shook hands across the bar and then Billy poured Anders a three-finger glass of Jim Beam. Good choice, Molly thought with a private smile. She knew he was a whisky drinker like her, but he preferred good old American whisky over Scotch.

  Anders turned on his stool and looked toward the stage. When Molly’s stomach tightened and started to twist into a knot, she purposely looked away and focused on the faces in front of her. Cheyenne sat with April at Molly’s table just to the left of the stage. Sophie’s small, spitfire of a grandmother, Agnes, sat alone at the table on the right drinking gin and giving Lillian the stink-eye.

  Then Molly couldn’t see the audience hardly at all because the spotlight popped on and heat kissed her face like the sun suddenly emerging from the clouds on a hazy day. She reveled in its warmth, which matched the warmth in her tummy courtesy of Mr. Glenlivet.

  She leaned into the mic again. “Sophie came to me several weeks ago and asked me if I’d sing a song for her first dance with Jimmy as husband and wife. When I asked what she’d like me to sing, she said she’d leave the song choice up to Jimmy because she was planning everything else.”

  The audience chuckled.

  The spotlight moved away scanning over the crowd until it landed on the empt
y opening to the stairwell.

  Sue appeared in the doorframe and gave Molly a thumbs-up.

  “All right then,” Molly said a bit too far away from the mic and leaned closer before continuing. “It’s with great honor I introduce to you my best friend and her handsome husband, Mr. and Mrs. James Arthur Panama. The guests broke into furious applause and whistles as Jimmy and Sophie entered the room and headed toward the stage. When they reached the center of the dance floor, Jimmy grabbed his beautiful bride by the waist, hauled her close, and spun her around in a half circle.

  Roy played the opening notes of the song on electric piano before Molly placed her hand on the mic and began singing about wise men as she crooned one of Elvis Presley’s most famous songs, ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You’. The rest of the band joined in on the second verse, putting a country-western twang on the pop ballad with a sweet whining steel guitar, a soft drum, and Molly on acoustic guitar.

  Sophie really hadn’t known what song Jimmy had picked for the dance and Molly had kept it a secret. You could tell by the way Sophie’s eyes softened with adoration that he’d picked the right one. Good call, Jimmy. You could never go wrong with The King.

  Jimmy bent his head to kiss Sophie and they swayed gently to the dulcet tune, celebrating their love with their closest friends and family looking on.

  This. Molly thought to herself. This is what I want. Not some forced mediocre relationship because she was afraid of being alone. She wanted to marry the love of her life. A man who was her equal partner and best friend. When she married Cheyenne’s father, she was so young. She hadn’t known what she was doing and ended up with the wrong guy. She’d rather be single for the rest of her life than make that mistake again.

  When the song ended, Anders led the applause. He slid off his stool and let out a whistle between his fingers. He wasn’t looking at the bride and groom though. He was looking at Molly.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Panama, everybody.” Molly rushed the announcement this time, trying to cover up the nerves that were threatening to take over her body. She took a deep breath and shoved them away on the exhale. Handing her guitar off to Big Roy, she reached for her glass of whisky and took a deep drink.

  On the dance floor, Jimmy and Sophie bowed to their guests and kissed each other one more time before taking their seats at the center table.

  Molly spoke into the mic. “I’m going to do one more number with the band before I resume my maid of honor duties, which means I’m gonna stuff my gut with Oscar’s delicious food and enjoy getting drunk with the rest of y’all.” Over the chuckles of amusement, she thanked everyone for listening and reminded them they could come see her two nights a week at Dixie’s.

  The band teased the next song by playing a long version of the intro while Big Roy returned to the front of the stage and adjusted the second mic stand to his height. Molly moved her stool aside and raised her own stand.

  “The bride’s father came to me a couple weeks ago and asked if he could request a song.” She pointed to Mitch who grinned back at her through his handlebar mustache. “When he said he’d like me to sing one of his favorites, I thought for sure he was gonna to ask for a Zeppelin tune. Or maybe some Aerosmith.”

  The audience laughed.

  “Who knew you were a little bit country, Mitch?”

  Mitch cupped his mouth to shout over the music but his words were drowned out. “Love me some Dolly.”

  “It’s a duet, so Big Roy is gonna help me out—”

  But Roy was stepping back from the mic so that Anders could take his place. Molly’s stomach dipped. She frowned slightly in confusion as Anders grinned and winked at her.

  The moment he stepped in front of the microphone, the audience went wild. They knew what was coming before Molly did.

  Anders waited for the noise to die down. “I have to thank Roy for letting me sit in on this one. You see, Molly promised me I could sing with her tonight and I thought I better jump in here and grab my chance while I can.”

  Facing Molly, Anders trapped her with his mischievous blue gaze. His mouth quirked into a teasing smile. She was used to people dwarfing her, but Anders wasn’t only a big, strapping man, he was larger than life. Her heart raced and her mouth went dry. She reached for the glass of whisky and knocked back the rest of it like a shot. This was happening. She was really about to sing with her idol. One more time, she took a deep, calming breath and thrust her nerves to the side. Then she pasted on a pretty smile for the benefit of the audience and concentrated on tapping her toe to the mid-tempo beat.

  Anders gave the band a nod. They played one more round of the intro before he put his mouth to the mic and sang the opening lines of the iconic country duet, ‘Islands in the Stream’ by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. Molly put on her mental suit and tie and went to work, trying her darnedest to be professional while trying to ignore the fact that Anders Ostergaard was singing about making love with her. When it was her turn to sing, she dug into the lyrics and used her full voice, taking her time with the song so she could savor the moment when his smooth, heady baritone joined her for the chorus.

  When their voices met on the same note, it was almost orgasmic. At least, for her anyhow. Their harmonies blended so well, they sounded as if they’d been singing together for years. That was all Anders though. A seasoned professional, he adjusted his harmony to meet hers when they slipped off for a moment. She was a strong singer though and she knew it. She could hold her own with big guns like Anders Ostergaard and that gave her the confidence to stand beside him as his equal, if only for those three minutes and forty-seven seconds.

  When they sang the last notes and the band struck the last chords, the audience burst into applause. Anders gave Molly a sideways hug.

  Grinning like a fool, she tilted her head back to look up at him, intending to thank him for the duet, but he beat her to it.

  “That was fun. Thanks for singing with me, Molly.” Then he bent to kiss her cheek and she was totally enveloped in his scent and heat. The warm, gentle pressure of his lips on her cheek was brief, but it sparked a fire under her skin the made her go up in flames. Flushed and speechless, she stared after him as he left the stage.

  Big Roy touched her shoulder, reminding her of where she was. She muttered one more thank you into the mic before passing it off to him.

  Big Roy spoke to the crowd. “Molly MacBain and Anders Ostergaard, everybody. The band’s taking a little break. We’ll be back in a few.”

  Molly was still slightly dazed when she joined Cheyenne and April at their table.

  “That was incredible, Molly.” April clapped her hands. “You’re amazing.”

  Cheyenne hopped up and down in her seat freaking out. “Oh, my goodness, you sang with Anders Ostergaard, Ma! That was incredible! I recorded it with your phone.” She handed the phone back to Molly.

  “Thank you. That was pretty darn awesome. Did you video the wedding too?”

  “Yep.”

  Molly glanced down at the screen. The afterglow fogging her brain faded a little more when she saw there were three missed calls from an unidentified number. If the calls were from one of her brothers or sisters, they would have left a message or sent a text when she didn't pick up. Had to be a wrong number, she decided and planted the phone face down on the table. “I’ll look at the video later. That was a lot of fun.”

  A waitress came to the table with a fresh tumbler of whisky and set it in front of Molly. “Billy is determined to get me drunk tonight.”

  “This one isn’t from Billy.” The waitress gestured toward the bar. “Mr. Ostergaard sent it over. Glenlivet. He asked Billy what you were drinking.”

  A thrill danced through Molly as she spotted Anders sitting on a stool talking to Mitch. She suppressed a giddy smile and played it cool. “Thank him for me.”

  “Sure thing.”

  As the waitress departed, Molly surreptitiously watched Anders while April and Cheyenne discussed their favorite moments from the wed
ding. Mitch was telling Anders an animated story he must have found amusing because his hearty guffaws broke through the clamor in the room. She smiled over the rim of her whisky glass and took a sip before turning back to the girls. “Are you still spending the night at April’s house?”

  Cheyenne nodded. “Yeah, I already put my bag in April’s car. We’re going to go soon.”

  “You really should stay at least until they cut the cake. It’s the polite thing to do.”

  “But, Ma—”

  Molly’s cell started to vibrate. She flipped the phone over. The call was coming from the same 310 number as before. Dagnabit. “I’m gonna step outside and take this. It might be important.”

  She took her drink with her, because it would be rude to just leave it on the table, and headed for the door. The tech guy had put on some intermission music and Jimmy Buffet’s ‘Come Monday’ played over the speakers beneath the hum of conversation. Molly answered the call as she walked. “Just a minute. Let me get somewhere I can hear you.”

  She pushed through the front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk into the warm June night. The noise was muffled as soon as the door shut behind her. She took a deep sip of whisky as she walked to the end of the building. “Sorry about that. Can I help you?”

  “Molly?”

  Molly gritted her teeth. “Hello, Trevor. What do you want?”

  “We need to talk about Cheyenne.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  “How do you think? Cheyenne gave it to me.”

  Of course she did. “This is a really bad time. I’m at a wedding.”

  “Yours?”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “Remember when I used to tell you I loved your sense of humor? I lied. Make this fast, Trevor. I really can’t do this right now.” She took another sip of whisky and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Cheyenne says you put your foot down about her coming to see me in California.”

  “You’re damn right I did.”

  “You can’t stop us from seeing each other.”