Page 2 of In to Her

“We’ve done it before,” I catch Blue Eyes saying. “What’s the big deal?”

I glance over as I stack my chairs and find Suit Guy looking right at me. He says, “This is different. This is fucking business.” And then, as he continues to stare at me, he downs his drink in one gulp and says, “Another.”

I already don’t like him and this is starting to piss me off.

But I have found that when people put on a power display like he’s doing now, it’s much easier to go along amicably. It gives people the opportunity to forget you. To move on. To take that attention you didn’t mean to draw and focus it somewhere else.

So I smile. Nod. And walk behind the bar, grab the bottle, and meet his expectations.

“You as well?” I ask Blue Eyes.

He hasn’t touched his drink. But he lifts it to his lips now, shoots me a wink, and then downs it like his friend. “Sure,” he says, sliding his glass towards me.

I pour and slide it back.

“Just… come on, man,” he says, looking at me. “It’ll be fun.”

And I’m thinking, What?

But he’s not talking to me. He’s talking to Suit Guy. “Not. Tonight,” his friend growls.

Again, I get that feeling in my stomach that something is off. Something is happening here and I’m about to miss it.

That will not happen.

I don’t miss anything.

So I say, “Listen, guys,” in my most fake, most pleasant voice. “I’m about to close up and the snow’s coming down pretty good now. You might want to get where you’re going while you still can.”

“The hours on the door say you close at nine,” Suit Guy says.

“Well,” I say, trying to keep that fake easiness going, “I’ve changed my mind about the hours on the door. And since I own this place, I can do that whenever I want.”

Blue Eyes ignores this whole confrontation and says, “Come on, Logan. Relax.” And then he gets up, walks over to the jukebox, slides in a bill, and starts picking songs.

I force myself to take a deep breath. Because this situation could go bad fast. I’m alone here. There’s a blizzard brewing outside. No one is even out on the highway just past my parking lot, because for sure, it’s been closed down for the storm by now. You can still travel on it if you have to. But go far enough down the mountain on either side and you’re gonna end up at a road block. Which means there’s no chance some random trucker will drop by and the locals aren’t stupid enough to get stuck in this shit weather, so no one’s coming through my door to break this little party up.

I look over at the bar where I have a gun stashed and wonder if I should just overreact and put an end to this now, or take the wait-and-see approach.

But just as I wonder that, Ladies Love Country Boys comes blaring through the speakers and Blue Eyes takes off his coat, throws it across a bar stool, and starts shuffling his way across the floor, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans.

Suit Guy groans loudly.

Logan, I correct myself, recalling his name.

“Come on,” Blue Eyes says. “Have a little fun with it.”

Is that what they were arguing about? Line dancing?

Logan shakes his head and looks back at his drink.

Blue Eyes says, “How about you?”

I look at him, find him grinning, and realize… he’s handsome. And now that I take a moment to really study him, he does have that rough, cowboy look going. Maybe he is local and this other guy is just a visiting friend. He doesn’t have a cowboy hat or anything like that. But he’s got a barely-there shadow on his angular square jaw, dark-blond scruffy hair, and the body of a man who works for a living. He’s wearing faded blue jeans, a tight, long-sleeved white thermal that shows all the muscles it’s trying to hide underneath, and well-worn cowboy boots on his feet.

“Take a spin with me?” he asks, shooting me with his fingers and spinning in the middle of the dance floor. “Since my friend here is shy?”

I relax a little.

Dancing. They were arguing about dancing.

I allow myself a smile and decide, Fuck it. Why not? and walk out from behind the bar, shuffling my way towards him.

As soon as I’m within arm’s reach he grabs my hand and pulls me into a country version of the West Coast swing.

I laugh, unexpectedly, and forget about the warning bells in my stomach. Forget all about my plans for tonight and just… have a little fun for once.

And he’s good at this. Like really good at this. He leads me like a pro. Twirling me and spinning me back to him with grace and confidence.

We break apart for a second, shuffling and stepping. I start doing a few of my favorite moves—because I am also one hell of a line dancer. Country night on Fridays has always been my favorite thing about this bar.

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