The Darling Songbirds

by Rachael Herron

  ‘She couldn’t find them, huh?’

  He grabbed the bag of candles. He stuck in all eight and found a lighter for her. ‘Here you go. Light ’em up.’

  ‘All eight?’ Norma looked surprised and glanced out the window. ‘Already? It’s still light out.’

  Even if she hadn’t had eight drinks, the tear tracks meant she was cut off. Adele hadn’t noticed her silent crying? ‘Yep, already. I’ll walk you home after you light them and blow them out, okay?’

  Norma struggled to insert the first candle, but then again, her hand wasn’t steady even when she was sober. While she worked at it, Nate tried to catch his breath.

  Anger lit inside him, a blue flame of heat. Adele wouldn’t be good at this. Not even with training. This wasn’t her world. He wanted to physically heave her onto the sidewalk and lock her out, and with the next breath he wanted to kiss her within an inch of her life. The push and pull of the two feelings was miserable, and he waited for his breath to slow.

  Norma had all the candles lit and Colin was saying goodbye to Adele by the time Nate felt it was safe for him to sidle down the bar. ‘See you soon,’ he said, clapping Colin’s hand in a shake. ‘Horseshoes? At the Doughertys’?’

  ‘You got it. Hey, you need a hand with her?’ Colin jerked his thumb towards Norma.

  Adele gasped. ‘Don’t arrest her! If she’s too drunk, it’s my fault for serving her.’

  Colin and Nate both laughed. ‘I meant walking her home,’ said the sheriff. ‘I’m happy to do it.’

  ‘You read my mind.’ Nate helped Norma blow out the candles. He hugged her for a long minute as she wept lightly against his chest, then gave her to the safekeeping of Colin. ‘Thanks, man.’

  ‘Anytime.’

  Then the saloon was empty.

  Just the two of them. Nate sat back down on his bar stool on the customer side.

  ‘I owe you a thank you.’ Adele rubbed the top of the bar with a napkin. She didn’t wet it first and it just stuck to the varnish.

  Nate waited.

  She didn’t say anything else.

  So Nate said, ‘So go ahead, then. I’m waiting.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Nate waited to see what she’d say.

  She pulled in her lips – those soft, still-slightly-swollen lips – and looked up at the ceiling. Her breasts were pert and perfectly displayed in the low-cut vee of her T-shirt. Nate dragged his gaze from them and back up to her eyes, those ridiculous, gorgeous blue eyes that reminded him of inland spring mornings when the mist from the crops rose into the clear sky.

  ‘Thank you,’ Adele finally said. ‘Now that I realise who the sheriff is, I guess I’m a little less worried about what he would have done, but I’m glad for your help anyway.’

  ‘You know, we have to talk about this.’ Keep fighting for it, Nate. He could hear Hugh’s voice in his ear. Why had Hugh wanted him to fight the girls for the property? Was that really what he’d meant? Hadn’t he been able to see how that would go? (What if he had? What if Hugh had had this in mind the whole time? Getting Nate hooked on one of the girls? He wouldn’t have been so cruel, would he?)

  Adele looked at the front door as if hoping someone – anyone – would enter. She wanted a distraction, obviously.

  So he’d oblige, although he wasn’t sure until he spoke whether he’d oblige with a kiss or an argument.

  Fight won, though he regretted the lost kiss. ‘You’re not fit to run this place.’ As openings for important conversations went, this one left something to be desired.

  ‘Just because I was a little off my game doesn’t mean I’m not fit,’ she countered. ‘It’s not like I have any practice at it. And you didn’t show up, leaving me to figure out every damn thing myself. I didn’t even know where you hid the money until I remembered my uncle’s floor safe.’

  Apparently she’d remembered his combination, too (DB123, not that hard when it came right down to it).

  ‘Did you start the ice machine?’

  She looked startled and glanced over her shoulder at the ice beast. ‘I thought it would just kick on when it got low.’

  ‘I bet it’s low now.’

  Adele glared at him. ‘Do you know how small a thing that is? Learnable, all of those little things.’

  If she had someone to teach her. He wasn’t going to be that guy.

  But making her bristle wasn’t going to do any good. It was pointless, and if he were her, it would just make him dig in his heels even deeper.

  He drew his stool even closer to the bar, four inches closer to her on the other side. He smoothed his features. This was important. It was so important. ‘Look. You’d be an amazing bartender. I know that. But it’s more than that, isn’t it?’

  Her eyes betrayed skepticism. ‘What do you mean?’

  The jukebox finally changed, swinging into Patsy Cline’s ‘Walking After Midnight’.

  ‘What about the money?’

  ‘What about it?’ Her chin was up, challenging him.

  ‘If you sell to me, you and your sisters walk away with cash.’

  ‘Probably not that much cash. This place is run into the ground.’

  That was the whole point – that was why he could afford it. ‘What about your home? Nashville?’

  ‘I told you. This is home.’

  ‘What about your apartment?’ Belatedly he remembered she’d told him she’d been evicted.

  ‘Homeless. I’m itinerant.’ She crossed her arms. ‘That makes this place a whole lot more attractive.’

  ‘What about your friends? I’m sure you have some girlfriends you miss like hell.’

  She picked up a napkin and folded it into a small square. ‘Of course I do. But they’re all either getting married or having babies or both.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘It’s different for women. Husbands get in the way. Once a woman is married, she says she’ll stay in touch with her friends, but when that first baby comes along, she forgets about her babyless friends totally, like nothing existed before she gave birth. All she can talk about are children, and every conversation revolves around her kid.’ She unfolded the napkin, smoothing it against the top of the bar as if she could get rid of the wrinkles.

  He stuck his hand in his pocket and gripped his mother’s two-month chip. It was worn smooth from his rubbing it, and warm from being against his body. He kept his voice casual. ‘You don’t want kids?’

  ‘Of course I do.’ Her smile was a hundred watts. More. ‘But only when it’s right.’

  The relief he felt was unwelcome. ‘How are you planning on keeping yourself from turning into one of those women?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not. I plan on going whole-hog baby-crazy. I probably won’t even speak to strangers on the street until I’ve deemed them worthy of hearing my baby stories. I’ll be the worst of them all.’

  ‘Was your mom like that?’ It had started out as a ploy, a plot to convince her to give up the idea of keeping the Golden Spike, but now, for some reason, he had to know what she might be like as a mother. Nothing like mine.

  ‘No, actually. She was more shy than she would have liked. It was my dad who was friends with everyone. With the grocer and the big music producers. You know the ones.’

  He shook his head. ‘I know the grocers. Not the producers. I play guitar in a band whose biggest crowd was when we played homecoming a few years back.’

  She flashed him a quick smile. ‘There’s a type of music producer who never marries, and never has kids. He dates women who get progressively younger and prettier, and my mother always said it wasn’t their fault. The producers are kind of like gods, and pretty girls are placed on their altars. My point is: Dad was friends with them. Buzz Holden and T. Jones Barclay, they practically lived at our house when they were between girlfriends. They loved my mom, too, but she was a little harder to know. Post-partum never really let her go, I think.’

  ‘Does that scare you?’ Nate could see her way too clearly, a baby on her hip
, opening a screen door to let friends inside. For one second he saw himself in the backyard, firing up the barbecue, putting the beers on ice.

  Shit.

  This was crazy.

  Adele had taken a second to think about it. ‘No. Mom and I were so different, in so many ways.’

  ‘What about your sisters? Do they have kids yet?’

  Adele laughed. ‘No way. Neither of them could afford a baby.’

  He kept his voice gentle while he went in for the kill. ‘Wouldn’t the money from the sale of the Golden Spike help them? What did they say when you asked?’

  She stared over his shoulder but didn’t respond.

  It was all the answer he needed. ‘Why would you want to be tied down to this place, anyway? You could always come visit. Keep it as your home base. We could write that into the sale, that all three of you can stay for free whenever you wanted to. If there was someone in the room you wanted, I’d kick them out.’

  ‘Just like that.’ Her voice was small, and something about the way she’d tucked her head made him desperate to chew right through the wood of the bar to get to her, to fold her into his arms.

  But he just said, ‘Yeah. Why tie yourself down? You’re young. You could go anywhere. Why strap yourself to this place?’

  Adele’s head rose and she met his gaze, her eyebrows drawing together. ‘Wait. Why tie yourself down? You’ve still never told me why this place is so important to you.’

  ‘Yeah, I did.’

  ‘Uncle Hugh. I know. You said that. But I’m not buying that’s all there is to it. There’s something more. I can feel it.’

  She didn’t deserve to know about his mother. ‘I’m just saying, working this place is like being married with none of the benefits. Since Hugh died, I haven’t had a day off until today.’

  ‘And yet you’re here.’

  ‘And yet I’m here.’

  ‘Why?’

  You. You’re the damn reason.

  He didn’t say the words out loud, but it seemed like maybe she heard him, clear enough. Her cheeks went bright pink, and she reached for one of the dirty glasses lined up on the bar waiting to be washed. She started washing it in the sink right in front of him, and every damn time she moved the glass under the running water, she had to lean forward enough that her T-shirt gaped. Just a little. Not like he could even see the top of her bra cup.

  Just skin. Just soft, smooth, glorious skin that he could practically taste.

  ‘You’re doing it wrong,’ he rasped.

  She narrowed her eyes, but didn’t respond.

  ‘No, seriously.’ He stood and moved – finally – around to the back of the bar, where he belonged, where his feet fit the floor. ‘This is the wash sink. Fill it like this, and add this soap and disinfectant. This is the rinse sink.’ He took another glass and dunked it, twisting it, hitting it with the soaped washrag and then pushed it in and out of the rinse water. ‘Fast. Done. See?’

  ‘I see,’ she said.

  They both froze in place, side to side, both their hands near the soapy water. The heat from the sink rose, practically making wavy lines in the air. Or was the warmth coming from her?

  He half-turned, and his knee touched her leg. He waited for her to move away.

  She didn’t. Only five or six inches separated their torsos.

  She had to move away because, God knew, he’d never be able to. It was an actual physical impossibility, like plucking protons from neutrons by hand.

  Adele took a quick breath, so short he almost didn’t hear it.

  ‘You should let me buy the saloon from you.’ He moved his hand so that the back of it touched the back of hers. ‘Please.’

  Still she didn’t answer.

  He turned his head. Her cheek was right there. So close he could almost …

  Then she turned her head, too. Their lips were a breath apart.

  And there was nothing in the whole world that could keep him from kissing her.

  Fast and hard, he wrapped an arm behind her back and drew her full-length against him. His mouth was hot against hers, and the way she gasped against his lips told him everything he needed to know. He put his other hand behind her neck and pulled her tighter against him. Her tongue was as insistent as his was, and she drove herself forward. Her fingers tangled in his hair and then gripped his shoulders.

  ‘Let me buy the saloon.’ He would stop kissing her, of course, as soon as she asked him to. As soon as she stopped tugging at his belt. But for now, he kissed her more.

  And Lord in heaven, the woman kissed him back.

  Finally, he felt her say something against his lips.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you feel perfect.’ Everything about her was perfect, her lips, her breasts, the way her ass fit, cupped in his hands.

  She gave a small laugh, and the kiss went carbonated. ‘Why do you want the bar?’

  He honestly couldn’t remember. ‘Because.’

  ‘And you get whatever you want.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was a lie, one he wished were true, because right now all he wanted was her.

  She looked over her shoulder at the front door. ‘Anyone could come in.’

  ‘Anyone could.’ Though they probably wouldn’t. This time of day there was always a lull between afternoon drinkers and evening socialisers. ‘That Open sign says Closed on the back, y’know.’

  Surprise flashed in her eyes. ‘We couldn’t.’

  ‘The place is empty. Likely to stay that way. Not like it’ll hurt the rock-bottom line if we close up for a minute.’ He walked to the front, praying to every god there was she wouldn’t change her mind. Her gorgeous mind. Which matched every other asset on her. He flipped the sign and shot the front lock.

  ‘Rock-bottom line. That would make a good song title.’ Her words sounded nervous.

  ‘Inventory.’ He paced back towards her, step by inevitable step. ‘In the back room. We should definitely check the stock levels, you think?’

  Adele nodded, and bit her bottom lip. She leaned against a bar stool as if she were drunk, and he knew she hadn’t had a drop. ‘Inventory,’ she said. ‘It’s just good business.’

  Holy shit, man, you’re so far over your head. ‘Adele –’ He kissed her again, and tried to tell her how much he needed her with just that touch.

  ‘Oh, Loretta Lynn.’

  Their kiss never broke as they made their way into the storeroom. Nate closed the door with one hand behind his back as his other hand undid the buttons of her fly. She pulled at his belt, seeming as impatient as he was.

  Nate hadn’t had sex in a storeroom since he’d lost his virginity to the cashier at the Stop and Shop in Fresno. That time had been fast and fumbled, awkward and apologetic.

  This time? With Adele? He was shocked that the heat rising off their half-clothed bodies didn’t make the bottles of liquor spontaneously combust. The gin could have exploded, the vodka could have gone up like a propane tank on fire, and they wouldn’t have noticed.

  ‘What about –’

  He dug in his wallet and pulled out a condom. ‘A guy doesn’t always have his guitar with him.’

  Gratifyingly, she laughed. Nate thought he could probably fly.

  Then the condom was on, and instead of going slowly like they had the last time, just last night, she jumped up and sat on a stack of 7 Up boxes, wrapping a leg around his waist.

  ‘Now,’ she said and then he was in her, hot and slick and fast, fucking her so hard he had to hold on to the metal shelf behind her, so fast her gasps against his ear sounded like his own, and maybe they shared the same breath. Now, now, now. Now was the only time in the world. There were only the two of them. Adele leaned forward and bit his shoulder so sharply he knew she’d leave teeth marks. He repaid her by biting her lower lip and thrusting into her harder.

  He pushed his hand between them, pressing his thumb against her clit. She let out a curse, a real one, not a country singer’s name, and ground herself against him. She tucked h
er forehead against the curve of his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his lower back, and Nate realised he’d never needed release more than that moment, and he needed release in her and basically there was probably nothing he’d ever want as much as her, and while she whispered his name in a strangled voice against his skin, he came, and he felt her coming around him, and then he had to wrap his arms around her to keep from falling to the floor. Blood pounded in his ears and black spots danced in the corners of his vision.

  ‘Jesus,’ he finally said.

  And she laughed.

  Adele laughed, a peal of delight, and Nate – at that moment, at the pretty bird-like trill of it – fell in love like he’d fallen off a cliff.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  What had she done? Adele lifted her hands to her cheeks and laughed again. She’d just fucked Nate in the storeroom of Uncle Hugh’s saloon. Jesus and Reba McEntire.

  She’d never felt as bad-girl as she did at that moment.

  And she’d certainly never felt as sexy as she did, seeing herself in his eyes.

  They should probably at least pull up their jeans. The front door was locked – she’d seen him do it – but then again, there could have been someone out there making margaritas in the blender and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  ‘Lord.’ His voice was low at her ear, and there was a richness to it she hadn’t heard before.

  Then Nate kissed her.

  And it was different. Last night, his kiss had been hot. When they’d launched themselves at the storeroom, their mouths had been an inferno.

  This was … this kiss was something else.

  It was something gorgeous and terrifying and so many million times more disturbing than just a hot kiss.

  Adele couldn’t be falling for this guy. No way. She was going to be his boss. Technically, she was already. You didn’t fall for an employee. For that matter, she had no intention of falling for anyone anytime soon.

  Why, then, did it feel like it was too late? Had her heart fallen like a wounded robin plummeting to earth, without giving her any kind of fair warning at all? How was she supposed to fix this?