by Meg Muldoon
“You don’t have to, Fletcher,” I said. “You don’t have to fight anyone. You’ve got me.”
A look of relief swept across his face, and he smiled. I grinned back, my heart feeling like it might just burst through my chest.
Lawrence cleared his throat.
“Well, kids, I hate to break it up, but this old man is hungrier than a grizzly bear in spring,” Lawrence said. “What say we all set down for a nice birthday picnic?”
I put the flowers in the center of the table, and fixed three plates.
My heart brimming with an uncontainable joy.
A soft, warm breeze blew through the cottonwoods, and it felt like after three long years of winter, spring had finally arrived.
Chapter 76
I was rushing around the saloon like the floor was made of hot coals.
Which these days, was just fine by me.
It had taken a lot of work to get The Stupid Cupid Saloon back into shape after the fire. A lot of time and work. But it’d been two months since the saloon almost went up in flames. And in that time, The Cupid got a new bar, a new stage, and most important of all, a new owner.
Two new owners, actually.
After everything that happened with Dale and Annabelle, Courtney hadn’t wanted any part of the saloon. She’d sold it as soon as she could and packed up, leaving town without saying goodbye to anyone. Not even to Dry Hack.
What happened to her was heartbreaking, and I didn’t blame her for leaving the way she did.
Sometimes in life, the only way to move past things is to leave everything behind and start fresh somewhere new. People in this country had been doing that for centuries. And Courtney had every right to do that too.
She sold the bar to the first bidder, who was none other than Lawrence’s grandson, Fletcher Hart. And after he bought it, he’d done something completely unprecedented.
He’d made me, little ol’ Loretta Loveless, his business partner.
He said that he’d decided on it that first night when he came into the bar asking for an orange soda. He thought that anyone who loved this establishment as much as I did would work their fingers to the bone to see it succeed. That was the reason he’d made me his partner. And he said it had nothing to do with any feelings he had for me. It was purely a business decision.
That’s what he had told me, anyway. But if I were being honest, I wasn’t sure if I believed that completely—that it didn’t have something to do with the fact that we were both head-over-heels madly in love with each other.
In the end, it didn’t matter why he’d made me his business partner, though. Because regardless of the reason, he was right.
Come hell or high water, I was going to restore The Cupid back to its glory days. Its days of quality music acts and fine drinks. A place that you could count on for a good time. A place where your soulmate might just be the gal or guy sitting a few seats down from you at the bar.
A place that changed lives for the better.
And I was starting tonight by having booked an up-and-coming alternative country act that had the sound of Steve Earle mixed with Old West sensibilities.
It was the first good act to come to The Cupid in years.
And judging by the packed bar and the line around the block of people who were hanging out front just to listen to the band play, I had a feeling that bringing The Cupid back to life wasn’t going to be nearly as difficult as anyone thought.
I pushed a brand new gin and tonic Dry Hack’s way. He nodded thankfully, and then went back to talking to Hank. The big dog had climbed up on the barstool next to the old veteran, getting pets and listening to a long narration detailing Sherman’s March to the Sea.
Then I mixed up a few Cupid’s Slingshots, using a better-quality whiskey than we used to, and went around the bar, skirting the large crowd and making my way to one of the tables.
I cleared my throat loudly to alert the couple that I was there, but it wasn’t much use. They didn’t hear me over the music.
That, or they didn’t want to hear me.
Beth Lynn Baker had started out hating Robert Reese the way you might hate dog poop on the bottom of your shoe.
But here they were, just a couple months after their ill-fated meeting at The Cupid, and the two of them were necking like teenagers at a low-lit table in the back.
Even though Beth Lynn had doubted me at first, I was glad she had finally found real love. And that she’d had enough of an open mind to actually take the plunge.
I decided not to disturb the happy couple. I left the two cocktails at the edge of the table and went back to the bar. The band, which up until now had been playing hard and fast, broke down into a slow, crooning acoustic number that seemed to settle over the saloon like a dream.
It took me a few moments to recognize that it was a stripped-down version of Dwight Yoakam’s “Take Hold of My Hand” they were playing.
I hummed happily to myself and began taking a few more drink orders. But then I looked across the room and noticed he was staring at me.
A serious, unwavering, steady stare that made my heart do that pitter-patter thing.
He weaved his way through the crowd and then over to me. He took the two drinks out of my hands and placed them down on the bar.
“I’ve just got to fill this drink order and then—”
“It can wait,” he said. “It’s Dwight, for the love of country music.”
I smiled, giving in. Fletcher Hart knew me all too well.
He pulled me out onto the floor. Resting his arms on my hips, he stared deep into my eyes, that electric current surging between us again.
We started swaying to the music.
“Sometimes I think about the first time I played here, all those years ago,” he said. “You know, I remembered you from that night. I saw you looking up from the crowd.”
I let out a noise of disbelief. He was making things up now.
“No way,” I said. “This place was packed to the hilt that night. There’s no way you could have seen me.”
“Remember when I told you about Christina, and about how when I saw her, I knew I was done for? And about how I had only felt like that one other time?”
I stopped dancing.
“Well, that other girl was you,” he said. “That night, in this bar, looking up with those full brown eyes of yours. Understanding each and every note.”
I looked up at him in shock.
“But after the show, I couldn’t find you, Loretta. You had disappeared on me.”
“You’re serious?” I said. “You’re not making this up?”
“I’ve never been more serious in all my life.”
His eyes were true.
He pulled me closer to him and we started dancing again.
I couldn’t believe it.
“I wonder what would have happened if Lawrence didn’t kick you out,” he said. “You think we could have both saved ourselves some time and heartache, and fallen in love right then and there?”
I smiled and pressed my head against his chest. He held me there, his strong arms enveloping me.
“Maybe,” I said. “But all I know is that I wouldn’t change a thing about how it happened. I wouldn’t change a thing about this moment, Fletcher Hart.”
It felt like we were the only ones in the room. I looked up at him, and he was smiling.
“You want to know what I know?”
“What do you know?” I said.
“That I’ve been looking for you my whole life, little Bluebird,” he said. “And now I finally found you.”
My heart fluttered, just like a little bluebird’s whose sad blue feathers had just burst into a brilliant rainbow of colors.
“I thought you said you didn’t believe in soulmates.”
He smiled.
“Let’s just say I had a change of heart,” he said.
Mistakes did happen in love. And to this day, I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to be with Jacob or Fletcher. I couldn’t be po
sitive who that mystery man with the blue eyes in my vision was. Maybe I was supposed to be with both of them at different points in my life. Maybe Jacob had been the mistake. Maybe Fletcher was the mistake.
But whatever was meant to happen, it didn’t really matter anymore.
Fate will only take you so far. The rest is choice.
I had stopped making choices when Jacob left, thinking that we were meant to be together. That he was my only shot at happiness. That if it didn’t work with him, I was as doomed as Zerelda Richmond, staring out at the river where her love had drowned. As doomed as Anabelle was when she took Old Velma and bashed her soulmate’s head in.
But now I saw that all along, I’d been wrong.
I wasn’t doomed at all.
And now with Fletcher at my side, I felt myself blooming into a new person.
I looked up into his eyes and pulled him close to me.
“You saved me, Fletcher Hart.”
I kissed him then, and we held onto each other, two souls holding on while the river of life swept us downstream.
To new places.
To new beginnings.
To a new day.
The End
About the Author
Meg Muldoon loves being a cozy fiction author. When not writing, she enjoys baking up batches of bourbon bread pudding, wearing red cowboy boots, and using craft glue guns.
She lives in Central Oregon with an Australian cattle dog named Huckleberry.
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Look for the fourth installment of the Christmas River series, Malice in Christmas River, in Summer 2014. Look for the second installment of the Cozy Matchmaker series in Fall 2014.
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