“Hey, honey,” Ray said, leaning over the bar and greeting Jessica with a deep kiss. A catcall could be heard from the back of the bar. Ignoring the crowd, Jessica lost herself in Ray’s affection, the meeting of their lips melting her into a pool of liquid on her barstool. The kiss ended, leaving Jessica feeling as flushed as a teenager.
“Break it up, you two,” came a yell from the right side of the bar. Jessica looked over to see who was hollering. Mr. Callaway, an eighty-year-old rancher was grinning like the Cheshire cat. He was a regular at the bar, and one of Ray’s beloved clients.
“Pipe down, Mr. Callaway,” Ray said with a snap of his bar towel. Grinning from ear to ear, Ray reached into the wine fridge and pulled out a bottle of pinot grigio. Pouring generously, since he was driving Jessica home which he always did after ‘date night’, Ray filled the glass.
Locking eyes on Jessica, Ray asked, “How’s the planning going?”
Groaning, Jessica said, “I am beginning to think that weddings were invented to torture brides.” Becoming Ray’s wife and having Ray adopt Jessica’s son, Evan, as his own would make every phone call and flower arrangement worth it. At this moment though, the usually cool-headed woman wanted to pull out chunks of her hair. “Some sort of sick, rite of passage stuff.” Taking the glass of wine that Ray handed her, Jessica said, “Thank you, baby. I needed this.” Jessica cheers her glass with the rancher beside her and took a long swig of the cool, tart drink. There was nothing like a chilled white wine to relax a woman who was reaching her breaking point.
“You’re welcome.” Ray corked the wine, placing the bottle back in the fridge. “Hungry?” he asked her.
Laughing, Jessica said, “I give you the same answer every time you ask me that question, Ray Stevenson. You’d think by now you would know I’m always hungry.”
“That’s the way I like you, sweetheart,” Ray said with a wink. “Let’s get you fed before you become the runaway bride. We’ll get this wedding nonsense sorted out. First, food.” As was their weekly routine, Ray disappeared into the small kitchen behind the bar. Stomach growling, Jessica waited anxiously for her dinner.
Carrying a silver tray, complete with domed lid, Ray returned, placing the tray on the bar in front of Jessica. Lifting the lid from the tray, Ray revealed a double cheeseburger and chili fries sitting on a bed of lettuce, complete with a linen napkin. “Voilà,” he said with a smile.
“How did you know?” Jessica exclaimed, eyeing the comfort food hungrily. Normally on Tuesday nights, Ray pulled out his cookbook and created a new dish, experimenting with different spices. Jessica had yet to meet a food she didn’t like, except for salad, and Ray was an excellent cook. This was one of those weeks that you just needed Burger Barn.
Not bothering to be ladylike about it, Jessica tore into the burger, simultaneously dipping a French fry in chili sauce. Moaning, and savoring the flavors, Jessica rolled her eyes with delight.
Amused by her reaction, Ray laughed, “I know you’ve had a heck of a week trying to pull this wedding off. Sometimes a hungry girl just needs a burger,” he said.
Washing down the bite of burger with wine, Jessica said, “Ray, if you hadn’t already asked me to marry you, I would propose on the spot,” as she began shoving three French fries into her mouth.
“Hey, Ray. That’s a good-looking burger. What’d you bring us?” Mr. Piper, the owner of the local feed and seed, asked, sidling up to the bar.
“Beer,” Ray answered with a smile.
“I like your hair, Ray,” Mr. Piper said. “But I miss being able to check out my beautiful reflection in the back of your head.”
Jessica giggled as Ray ran his hand through his short cut. After seeing a picture of Ray before he had shaved his head, his locks wavy and dark, Jessica had asked Ray to stop shaving his head. As a hairdresser, it killed Jessica that Ray would not grow the hairstyle all the way back out. Hair aside, Jessica was more than satisfied with looks of her beefcake.
At the end of a long day, there was nothing better than curling up with those tattooed muscled arms wrapped tightly around her body. The scruff of Ray’s beard tickling her neck. The feel of her hand running over the bare skin of his strong back.
“Have you found a dress yet, Miss Jessica?” Ray asked, dragging her thoughts from her bedroom, back to the bar. Sheepishly, Jessica dabbed at the corners of her grease covered lips.
“No,” Jessica said, wrinkling her nose. “Wedding dress shopping is just another layer the sadists have added to the torture, possibly the most painful part. Nobody looks good dressed up as a lace-covered marshmallow.” Having limited choices in their rural community, the dresses Jessica had found looked like they had been hanging on the racks since nineteen eighty. With poufy shoulders, huge skirts, and wrist length sleeves, the frilly ensembles ranging from bright white to creamy ivory just weren’t Jessica’s style. Or the style of anyone who was living in this decade.
“You may need to settle on one, sweetheart, the wedding is only a couple of weeks away,” Ray said, looking concerned.
“Ray, nothing fits.” Jessica tried to keep the whine from her voice. One year after giving birth, there were still ten pounds of baby fat hanging around, like a bad houseguest you couldn’t get rid of. Jessica hadn’t minded so much during those sweet months of babyhood, but now she had a toddler for crying out loud. It was beginning to look like she would never be back down to her pre-pregnancy weight. Which only added to the insult of the tight-waisted, dated gowns.
“Jessica,” Ray answered softly. “We’ve talked about this.”
“I know, I know. I just can’t find a dress that doesn’t make me look fat.”
Ray raised one eyebrow to her. The f, word was a no-no in Ray’s book. He was of the mindset that a woman was perfectly and wonderfully made no matter her size, and every woman deserved to be well fed. “A woman doesn’t get to look as beautiful as you, be blessed with the sweetest son in the world, and complain about her weight. You know you turned every head in this bar, tonight, in those jeans, didn’t you?”
“This crowd turns their heads so far they hurt their necks anytime someone with two X chromosomes come in,” Jessica protested. “Heck, everyone looks better in jeans, anyway. Look at Harry,” Jessica said, gesturing towards the man by the jukebox who was now two-stepping by himself, thumbs hooked behind his overall straps.
“That might be true,” Ray chuckled. “Harry does rock the bibs.” Drying the glasses, he had just hand washed in the bar sink, Ray asked, “How many wedding dresses have you tried on, honey? Just round up the number,” he said with a wink.
“I don’t know, maybe a hundred,” Jessica guessed, shrugging her shoulders.
“And you hated every one of them?” Ray asked, his brow furrowing, sounding mystified by the female experience.
“Yes,” Jessica groaned, choosing not to reveal that she hadn’t made it as far as Clinton yet, where there was possibly a much better selection. Not having the heart to try and squeeze into a designer dress that was two sizes bigger than the dress size she had been wearing just over a year and a half ago, Jessica had only shopped in town. “They were all either too tight, too big, too sequined, or too poufy. Even Carrie, who adores fashion, is sick of watching me try on dresses,” Jessica answered with a sigh.
Contemplating her predicament, Ray looked Jessica over. “Tell me, honey, do you feel good about your body when you wear those jeans?” Ray asked.
“Yes,” she admitted, shyly, ready to drop the subject.
“Be right back.” Ray put down his towel and walked back to his small office beside the kitchen. Straining to see past the doorframe, Jessica watched curiously as Ray took a piece of white paper from his desk printer.
Returning to her with a determined look in his eyes, Ray grabbed his black Sharpie marker from the bar, the one that no one, even Jessica, could touch. Shielding the paper from her line of sight with his shoulder and arm, Ray got to work.
“What are you writing?” Jes
sica asked, curiously, trying to peek at his work.
Looking up at Jessica, his eyes sparkling, Ray said, teasingly, “You’ll see.” For whatever reason, that little look hit her in the pit of her stomach and made her knees weak. Until Ray, Jessica had never known that a good man could also be as sexy as the bartender in front of her.
Finishing his handiwork, Ray made a loop out of a piece of silver duct tape, another off-limit item he kept on the bar. Leaning past the bar, Ray reached up towards the wall, tacking the paper over the tongue-in-cheek sign Jessica had bought for the bar that read, “Buy your first beer for the price of two, the second one’s on me.”
Out loud, Jessica read the words written on the paper in Ray’s immaculate, precise handwriting, “Spread the word. The attire for the Stevenson’s wedding will be denim. Wear your jeans, no matter how faded.”
A few of the customers shuffled over to read the paper. Harry, wearing his ‘uniform’, overalls, hooted with approval. “I’m all set,” he said, patting his chest and pointing at the sign. Harry approached Jessica and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You’ll be the prettiest bride there ever was, no matter what you’re wearing.”
“Thank you, Harry. And you’ll be quite handsome yourself. I might even let you walk me down the aisle,” Jessica said.
Harry hooted again, as he shuffled out of the bar, calling over his shoulder, “I’m off to ‘spread the news’.”
Smiling, the couple watched the dear old man depart. When Jessica turned back to the bar, Ray was looking at her with concern.
“Jessica, I asked Wes to walk you down the aisle,” Ray said, gently.
With her father gone and her brother, Kevin’s death still fresh in her heart, the subject of who would be walking the bride down the aisle was one Jessica refused to talk about unless it was a jest. With Jessica and Wes as close as siblings, he was the natural choice to perform the duty. Jessica and Wes had a tricky past, but he was the closest thing she had to male family, and she loved him as she loved Kevin. Not wanting to put Ray in an awkward position, Jessica would never have asked this of him.
For Ray to know what Jessica needed and act on it, unselfishly, was touching. Tears stinging the back of her eyes, Jessica softly said, “Thank you, Ray,” leaning over the bar for a kiss.
Killed in a car crash just hours before Evan’s birth, Jessica still had healing to do. Only time would mend her heart. Talking about the past was difficult for Jessica. She preferred to live in the light and stay positive, focusing on the happy parts of life. Jessica loved that Ray accepted this about her, no questions asked.
“Love you, honey,” Ray murmured, kissing her once more. Snapping back into prepping mode, Ray said, “Wedding attire covered. Delicate, emotional, heart-wrenching ‘turmoil situation’ covered.” Ray smiled. “Now, what about food?”
“I’m the worst wedding planner, ever,” Jessica groaned, burying her head in her hands. “Ugh. I totally forgot about food. What bride doesn’t plan food for her wedding?” Jessica took her hands from her head, scared she would begin to tear her hair out for real, becoming the town’s first bald hairdresser.
“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Would you mind if I took care of the menu?” Ray asked. “I would love nothing more than to take the food off your plate,” Ray joked.
Thus far, Jessica had given up only a sliver of the planning control to Carrie, who lovingly referred to Jessica as Bridezilla’, while still happily doing her bidding. But Jessica was coming unraveled and there was no joy for her in planning the meal.
“Yes,” Jessica quickly answered her fiancé, slapping her palms on the bar top. “A thousand times, yes.”
“You sure?” Ray asked, with a wicked smile. “You can’t take it back once you say it. Last chance to back out.”
“Yes?” Jessica answered, now unsure of to what she had committed.
“All right.” Ray leaned over the bar, retrieving the recently hung sign.
Taking the cap from his Sharpie once more, Ray got to work. Finished, he tacked the paper back up over the funny beer sign. Underneath the line about attire now read, “Potluck reception. Bring your finest Texas side dish or your mama’s famous sweet tea. Grass fed, humanely raised, as local as you can get, Brisket will be provided.”
Before Jessica could react, Ray picked up his phone, dialing quickly. “Wes. Hey, man. We are doing well. How are you and yours? Uh-huh, well that little one is always causing trouble, isn’t she,” he said, giving Jessica a wink. Oh dear, Jessica thought, Carrie must be as stressed as her with the wedding planning. Jessica hoped that she hadn’t caused Carrie a trip over Wes’ knee.
“Can you do me a favor?” Ray continued on the phone, “Put aside, oh, let’s say, a hundred pounds of brisket for me? I need it the morning before the wedding.” A moment later, Ray gave Jessica a thumbs-up gesture, saying, “Thanks, Wes,” and hung up the phone.
Ray chuckled, a satisfied look in his eyes. “It sure helps to have an ‘in’ with the owner of one of the biggest cattle ranches in Texas.”
Mr. Callaway called out, “Look, fellas, Ray’s making brisket!” The customers once again gathered to read the sign. Volunteers started claiming dishes.
“My ranch beans are the tastiest in the state, I’m bringing those.”
“I call the tater salad. I’m the only one who puts dill in potato salad.”
“What on Earth are you talking about, Hank? My beans won a blue ribbon at the State Fair in 1977. You know that.”
“I’m already bringing beans, man. I said that.”
“Mine beans are better. We’ll let Jessica decide.”
“A bride can’t eat beans on her wedding day!”
“Just so no one tries to bring tater salad. Even a fool knows you put dill in it. There has to be dill.”
The banter continued. Jessica laughed, holding her glass out to Ray for a refill. “Oh, Ray, this is going to be so good. I’m looking forward to this.”
Uncorking the wine, Ray filled the glass again. “What else needs doing? We are putting an end to this planning nonsense, tonight.”
“Let me think,” Jessica said, taking a sip of her wine. The fruity beverage was spreading its warmth over her. Ray’s take-charge manner with the planning had her finally, relaxing. “Sarah Fritz was so mad at Carrie for canceling her wedding cake, even under the circumstances, she refused to bake ours.”
A stern look crossing his face, Ray said, “That’s just poor manners of Sarah. Carrie was on her deathbed when she canceled that cake. What does that have to do with you, anyway?” Ray snapped his bar towel in frustration, looking like he would like the teach the bakery boss some manners.
“Guilty by association,” Jessica shrugged. When Jessica had called the bakery to request the cake, Sarah had made a snide remark about Carrie having canceled her wedding cake. Carrie had planned to bring the cake down to Mexico for her simple ceremony. Instead, she wound up suddenly and extremely ill. Rushed to the emergency room, Carrie was found to have a ruptured appendix. Spending weeks in the hospital recovering, Carrie was lucky to be alive. Having forgone the wedding, Carrie was married to Wes in her hospital bed, surrounded by her family all wearing matching, pale blue flowered hospital gowns. Baby Evan had been the ring bearer.
Hearing the baker’s ludicrous reply and angry as a hornet, Jessica had cussed Sarah out, slamming down the phone to end the conversation. Ray wouldn’t like that part of the story very much. If word got to him he might want to use that towel on her instead, so Jessica left it out.
Ray raised a suspicious eyebrow to Jessica while he picked up the phone again. Jessica fiddled with her hair, sensing Ray thought there was a portion of the story missing. Manners and kindness, even in the face of adversity were a must for Ray. Reading the expression on Ray’s face, Jessica knew her fiancé was wondering what Jessica’s reaction to Sarah had been.
“Hello, it’s Ray. She’s well, she’s right here. Yes, it is our date night every Tuesday.” Ray smiled. “Ho
w’s the garden going? Nice. I was just calling to see how much of your famous banana pudding you would be able to prepare for the wedding.” Ray gave Jessica another wink. “Oh, I’d say about three hundred guests.” Ray smiled, taking in the stream of words from the other end of the phone. Looking over his shoulder at the kitchen, Ray answered, “I have an empty fridge here at the bar. And I know a couple of bachelors who take all their meals at the Burger Barn. If I take care of storage, can you take care of making the pudding?” Ray paused, and Jessica could hear excited chatting on the other end of the line. “Wonderful. Jessica sends her love. Oh, and by the way, wear your jeans and boots to the wedding.” Ray hung up the phone not giving Jessica’s mother a chance to protest.
“I’ll bet mom is freaking out more about the attire, than the five hundred pounds of pudding she is responsible for, right now.” As she spoke, Jessica’s phone started beeping with texts from her mother.
Ray reached over, silencing the phone. “Give her some time to adjust. Soon she’ll be so busy baking, she won’t have time to worry about what you’re wearing.”
“Two birds with one stone,” Jessica said, sipping her wine. “You covered the dessert and told the mother of the bride she’s wearing denim.”
“Man, I’m on a roll,” Ray said, snapping his bar towel, again. “Anything else?” Ray asked.
“Just decorations, but Carrie and I have those covered,” Jessica answered. It would be fun, now, to finish the crafting with her best friend, all other worries off her plate. “And getting your sister from the airport.”
“I can’t wait to meet her,” Ray said with a chuckle.
An eavesdropping Mr. Callaway had sidled up onto the stool beside Jessica. “What do you mean you can’t wait to meet her? You just said she’s your sister!”
“It’s a long story, Mr. Callaway. Do you have a few minutes to hear it?” Ray asked, knowing Mr. Callaway had nothing but time at this stage in his life.
The Bartender (Sweet Texas Love Book 3) Page 2