She swipes the glass off the counter, dumps the ice and glass in a sink, then grabs a clean one off the shelf. Filling it with fresh ice and water, she comes back and sets it on a coaster in front of me. “Yeah, my mom said you live on the farm over on County Road, the one with all the cows.”
I chuckle softly. It’s always a bit funny to me that in small towns like this, you’re always associated with the house or property you keep or live near, or by the twisted oak that got struck by lightning a few years back, or the old syrup house. “Yeah, that’s us. We’ve got about a hundred head of cattle. I still have to bring them in for the night and feed them.”
“You got other folks that work on the farm with you?” She’s leaning across the bar again, and I honestly believe she has no idea that the action causes her breasts to almost topple out between the buttons on her shirt. I look down at the ice cubes floating in my water so I don’t come off like a complete ass trying to ogle her tits.
“I’ve got a younger brother, but other than him, it’s just me and my parents. We bring extra help in when we hay and breed and what not.” My eyes swing to the right as the door at the back of the bar swings open and Sydney walks through. Her eyes lock onto mine and seem to widen in surprise then just as quickly shift away as her cheeks turn a light pink. I keep my focus on her until she comes to a stop beside Kelly.
“Your mom wants to talk to you about the orders for next week.” Her voice is soft, and again, I can’t help but notice it has a melodic quality to it.
“Okay, cool.” She turns back to me and smiles. “See ya tonight, handsome.” Winking, she pushes off the bar, turns, and walks back the way Sydney came.
I turn my attention to Sydney, who is fidgeting with a stack of coasters, attempting to square them off, and definitely trying to avoid me. There’s something about her that piques my curiosity, and even though I now know I make her nervous, I can’t help but try to engage her again. “So, Kelly tells me you just graduated from the university.”
Her eyes snap up to mine in surprise like it’s the first time she’s noticed someone is actually sitting at the bar. She just stares at me for a minute before she finally responds. “Oh, yeah. Last week.”
“Congrats. That’s pretty cool.” I take a sip of my water as I realize she’s actually making me feel nervous with her intensity.
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
I laugh out loud, my nerves kicking in. “You don’t say much, do you?”
She shrugs again, and I have to bite back the smile I’m sure will make her even more uncomfortable. “I do when I have something to say.”
“Fair enough.” I set my glass on the bar top and stand. “I guess I’ll take that as my queue to leave then.”
A small frown pulls her pouty lower lip down, and her brow creases as a new look sweeps across her face. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t trying to be rude.”
“It’s all good.” I smile warmly to let her know I’m not offended. “As much as I’d like to stay here and engage in some more in-depth conversation with you, I’ve got to go back to work for a few hours.”
“Oh, okay.” I watch as she reaches up and swipes a long blonde tendril that’s escaped from her ponytail back behind her ear. “Guess we’ll see you later then.”
“Looking forward to it.” Before I say anything else to make her feel worse, I give her a quick nod and walk to the exit, back out into the sweltering heat.
* * *
FOUR HOURS LATER, I walk back into Hook’s Landing and find myself in a completely different world from earlier. The bar is lined two deep with folks either drinking or waiting for another, and every table in the place is full. The jukebox is pumping, and the two girls behind the bar have huge smiles on their faces as they pour, mix, and place drinks down in front of people. They seem to know each and every person on a first name basis. I make a detour over to my equipment, giving it a quick check to ensure everything is like I left it, set my guitar down, and head over to the bar. I plant myself on a stool in the far corner that someone is miraculously vacating just as I approach.
I catch Sydney’s eye, and instead of the timid girl I saw earlier, a wide smile breaks across her face. “Hey, you! You want something?” She arches an eyebrow and lifts an empty glass in question. “More ice water?”
“Whiskey, neat. But, yeah, I’ll take a water back, too, please.” I try really hard to suppress a grin, in an attempt to appear cool, but fail miserably when she playfully responds.
“Oooh, we got a whiskey man on our hands, Kell.” She grabs a rocks glass off the shelf, turning to look at me, a glint of mischief in her eyes, as Kelly hands a bottle of Jameson to her. “You know what they say about guys who drink whiskey, don’t ya, Kell?”
“They’re Irish?” Kelly laughs as she responds.
“Yeah, that works, I guess.” She looks up at me with a shy smile as she tips the bottle and pours at least three fingers into the rocks glass. Then, she pulls a shot glass from under the bar and fills it as well. Using her fingers, she slides the glass toward me, picks up the shot glass and looks right at me. “Winston Churchill said that whiskey is the drink that enables man to magnify his joy.” She brings the shot glass to her mouth, smiles, and then downs it in one swallow. “What do you say about that?”
My mouth falls open for just the briefest of moments before a grin breaks across my face, my head shaking in disbelief. “Well, you’re certainly making things more enjoyable.”
“Oh, yeah, she’s just the life of the party.” I watch as Kelly comes over and grabs the shot glass out of Sydney’s hand. “Especially when she has a few shots in her.” She takes the bottle of Jameson out of the other. “No shots on this side of the bar.”
At least, that helps to explain the personality shift from this afternoon. I can’t help but wonder just how crazy these two girls are as I watch Sydney puff her bottom lip out in a pout before laughing. “Yes, Boss.”
She turns, grabs a glass, and fills it with ice and water before setting it in front of me. “Your water back.”
“Thanks.” I stand and reach for my wallet. “What do I owe you?”
She shakes her head and, looking up under her long lashes, treats me to the shy smile I’m more used to. “Talent always gets the first round on the house.”
I sit back on the stool and raise my glass. “Thanks, appreciate it.”
“Sure. Let us know if you need anything.”
Before I can respond, she glides down the bar and starts a conversation with another couple waiting for drinks. I sip my whiskey and, using the mirror over the bar, try to discreetly watch how she interacts with the different people at the bar. It doesn’t seem to matter if the person is dressed nicely, the corner bum, young, or old; she has a way of making everyone feel welcome and special. Every single person she serves leaves the bar smiling.
“She’s single, ya know.” Kelly leans over the bar in front of me.
“Who?” I’m trying to play it cool, but I guess maybe I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought using the mirror.
“You know who.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play coy with me. I see you watching her.”
“Nah, it’s not like that.” I take a sip of my whiskey, trying to improve my ‘I don’t give a shit’ ruse. “I was just trying to figure out how she went from barely able to talk to me this afternoon to doing a shot with me.”
“She’s not a girl you take at face value.” She leans over so she’s a little closer to me and lowers her voice. “Plus, she did two shots before you came in to calm her nerves.”
“So, you’re saying I make her nervous?” I cock my eyebrow.
She puts her hand on her hip and shakes her head. “Did you hear anything I said to you earlier? Are you as dumb as you are good looking?”
“Ouch.” I chuckle. “I’m not sure which one of you is feistier.”
“The girl never does shots. Never.” She turns and looks at her friend, who’s at the other end of the bar, and the
n back at me. “I’m sure she has to be feeling pretty darn good after that third one.” Her brows crease slightly, and her lips turn down in a frown.
“What did I do?” I raise my hands defensively. “I’m just here to play some music and asked for a drink.”
“Uh-huh.” She crosses her arms and continues to stare at me. “I’m keeping my eye on you.”
“Seriously, you’ve got nothing to worry about with me. I’m leaving in the fall. Chasing girls is the last thing on my mind.”
“Uh-huh.” She nods her head a final time, her eyes definitely giving me a look that means business. She glances to the entrance as the door opens, and a broad smile erupts across her face. “Adam!” I seem to be forgotten and thankfully dismissed, as she turns away to greet the man who just entered.
I watch her walk to the end of the bar, duck under the walk-through, and then pop back up and throw her arms around a police officer. “Hey, babe!”
He blushes and kisses her softly on the top of her head, clearly smitten with her, before gently pulling her arms down and taking a step back. “You know I can’t do that in uniform, Kelly.”
“Oh, Adam, no one here cares.” She takes a step toward him again, but he puts a hand out to stop any forward progress, a smile on his face as she stomps her boot on the floor. “You’re such a goody two shoes!”
“I’m a cop, Kell. It kind of goes with the territory.” He laughs at her little tantrum before bending over and kissing the top of her head again. I’m not sure if it’s because he’s almost a full foot taller than her and it’s easier than bending lower for her mouth, or if it just feels less like breaking the rules. “I was just doing door checks and thought I’d grab a soda and say hi.”
I turn my attention away from the couple and catch Sydney looking at me, her hazel eyes locking onto mine just long enough to cause her cheeks to flush before she quickly twists her gaze away and focuses on some task further down the bar. I shake my head, thinking she’s like a mouse that’s just been cornered by an alley cat. I glance up at the clock to see it’s ten ‘til nine and figure I might as well get started with my first set.
* * *
CHAPTER THREE
W hiskey is the drink that enables man to magnify his joy? Ugh. What the hell is wrong with me? I shake my head in disgust for being such a dork. Why do I say these things? I slink down the bar to help one of our regulars, all while hoping Justin doesn’t think I’m totally crazy. After making a couple gin and tonics, I sneak a glance back in his direction to make sure he hasn’t left the building and see him and Kelly chatting. I’m sure she’s probably trying to convince him I’m not completely bonkers, but really, why do I even care? I see and talk to at least a hundred men a day. Granted, none of them have eyes I want to drown in or look like Justin, but that’s beside the point. I need to get a grip.
I take a deep breath, straighten my shoulders, and decide then and there to get over myself; or better yet, get over the guy sitting at the end of the bar. I mean, after all, he’s just a man, right?
“Hey, how’s everyone doing tonight?” I whip my head around at the sound of his voice coming over the speakers and meet his eyes. “Think we can get the jukebox turned off for a bit?” He’s talking to me, and I nod my head slowly in response. I reach under the bar and flick the switch to turn off the music. Nodding my head at him again, I feel my cheeks heat when he rewards me with a small smile of thanks. Yeah, I’m doing a great job getting over myself so far…
“How about a big thank you to the girls at the bar taking care of everyone tonight?” He claps his hand against the wooden face of the guitar he’s holding, encouraging the crowd to follow, which they do, accompanied by a few hoots of appreciation. When they settle down, he shifts and moves a bit closer to the mic. “I’m Justin Jeffries, and I’m going to play for a bit. Let me know if there’s anything special you want to hear.”
I watch as he strums the guitar and immediately recognize the chords to Pearl Jam’s “Just Breathe,” one of my most favorite songs, and decide instantly that I’m a fan. But when he opens his mouth and begins to sing, I’m completely and utterly dazed. His voice is beyond anything I’ve ever heard in this bar before, let alone in my life. A chill travels down my spine and goosebumps break out on my skin as if his fingertips are grazing over me. Every person in the room has stopped talking and is staring at him, listening in awe. And even though I know I’m not alone, I feel like I am. Like I’m looking at him through a telescope, and every single thing is laser-focused and just for my eyes and my ears only. Now, I understand what people say when they refer to having tunnel vision. This must be what it feels like.
His voice is smooth and rich and carries so much emotion with each note as he plays and sings. I literally cannot look away from him. His head is tilted down toward the mic, his eyes are closed as the words flow from him, and I am just mesmerized. Is this what it feels like to be dazed and confused at the same time? Kelly comes up beside me and links her arm through mine as she leans over and whispers in my ear, “Holy shit. He’s really good.”
I don’t want to look away to answer her, so I just nod my head, my mouth open slightly in wonder. I’m wondering what in the hell this guy is doing singing in a bar, in a town with less than five thousand people, hiding away on a farm somewhere, instead of selling out major arenas. He is that good, and it’s not just his voice or the way he looks; it’s how he plays. How every feeling that a song is supposed to draw from you is now pouring from every person in this room. I’ve never experienced a situation where a single person holds so many emotions in his control. It’s breathtaking to see.
As the song comes to an end, he opens his eyes and looks out across the room, and then smiles as everyone claps and cheers loudly. He seems genuinely surprised by the adoration the crowd is showing, and for once, it’s his cheeks that are turning a slight pink as he runs a palm down his face, trying to conceal his bashful response. He raises his hand and then motions for the crowd to sit. “Um, thanks, everyone.” He shakes his head as if in disbelief. “You sure know how to stroke a guy’s ego.”
“I’ll stroke more than your ego!” a woman shouts from the back of the room. I glance in that direction and have to chuckle at the table of four girls who seem to be as enamored as I am over this guy as they giggle and point at him.
“Why don’t I just sing another song instead?” He strums the guitar a few times, tuning a string, and then begins a soft melody I don’t recognize. “This is one I wrote, so be gentle with me.”
The crowd goes quiet once more as we all listen and lose ourselves in the music again. The chords of the song are mystical and remind me of wind chimes twinkling in the breeze; light and airy and full of beauty. I want to savor every note, but a customer, who apparently hasn’t been hypnotized into a drooling fangirl, approaches the bar and orders a round of drinks for her table. Trance momentarily broken, I tear my gaze away and get back to work.
Nearly four hours later, last call has been served and mostly drank, and only a few folks are left to clear out for the night. Justin took one fifteen-minute break throughout the entirety of the evening and spent it fielding questions from people in the crowd and being fawned over by most of the female clientele. He was a good draw and knew we’d ask him to come back again. How I hadn’t heard of him before is a mystery. Kelly and I are clearing off tables and pushing the stragglers out the door while Justin breaks down his gear.
Kelly pokes me in the side and points over to the make-shift stage area. “Does Sheila really think she has a chance with him? I mean, come on. She’s wearing more lipstick than Bozo the Clown, and that hairstyle hasn’t been in since she was reading Teen Beat magazine in high school. And we both know that was quite some time ago.”
I roll my eyes and stifle a laugh as I watch Kelly take matters into her own hands and walk their way. “Okay, ladies, it’s closing time. Say goodnight to Justin and hit the trail.”
The girls groan loudly and stumble toward the exit, p
romising Justin that they will be seeing him real soon. Justin looks at Kelly and mouths a silent, “thank you”, and goes back to packing up. I finish wiping down the tables as Kelly hops back behind the bar. She flips the switch to turn the jukebox back on and throws a five up on the counter. “Make sure you put Patsy on for me.”
I grin widely as I snatch the money off the counter and skip over to the music machine. I insert the bill and then punch in the numbers I know by heart for some of our regular songs. As soon as the piano intro for “Crazy” by Patsy Cline starts, Kelly is by my side, pulling me into a waltz as we both belt out the lyrics. We laugh out loud between spins and flailing dip attempts, enjoying the favorite part of our night together. This is the part where we unwind with some of our favorite songs, a drink or two, and gossip about anything exciting that happened that night. As the song comes to an end, we both throw our arms out and croon out the last notes. “And I’m crazy for loving… you!!!!!” Neither one of us has a good voice, but we don’t care. We both laugh hysterically when we turn and see the shocked expression on Justin’s face.
“It’s official, you girls are definitely crazy.” A broad grin lights up his face and he chuckles. “I guess my job isn’t in any danger, eh?”
Kelly snatches a coaster off the counter and tosses it at him like a frisbee. “Oh, hush! Can’t a gal have some fun?”
“You both kinda sounded like a couple of alley cats screeching at the moon on a hot summer night.” He ducks again as Kelly throws not one, but the whole stack of coasters at him.
“Well, aren’t you just a critic!” She pretends to huff and stomp off, throwing us both a backward glance as she goes, sticking her tongue out for good measure. “I think I’ll go load the dishwasher.”
I agree that we both totally suck at singing, so instead of throwing anything else, I bend down to pick up the coasters now strewn across half the floor, a smile on my face. As I reach for one to my left, Justin’s hand reaches out and snatches it up, as well as some others out of my reach. I look over and realize he’s bent down and helping to clean up the mess. “You don’t have to do that. I can get them.”
Love Notes Page 2