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Once they were gone, he and I went around clearing tables and filling up bins with dishes to take to the kitchen to wash and sterilize. It was nice having his help. We stood side by side at the sink, rinsing and loading glasses into the huge dishwasher I’d bought for the bar a few years back. It was kind of complicated, but once you understood it, not hard.
“I can tell you how to work it,” I offered, glancing over at Gabe.
“I’d like that,” he said, bending down to kiss me. “But first…” He untied the apron he’d put on, then pulled it over his head before holding out his arms to me.
I gave him a confused look. “What are you doing?”
He waggled his brows. “We need to finish our dance.”
Chuckling, I shut off the water and grabbed a towel to dry my hands, my own apron splotched with water and soapsuds. “Uh, sorry, but there’s no music.”
That’s when the singing started. Gabe was a lot of things, but a good singer wasn’t one of them.
I clamped a hand over his mouth. “Please stop that. You’ll scare the mice.”
His laugh rang through the kitchen. “Fine. How about if I just hum, then?”
“Humming is good.” Honestly, I didn’t need any music. Didn’t need an excuse to get back in his arms either. I pulled off my own apron and stepped into his embrace, shivering as he pulled me close and nuzzled the spot beneath my ear that drove me wild with need. He hummed softly, something low and sweet, and the world reduced to only the two of us, only that moment. All my fears and doubts melted away, and I allowed myself to just be.
I rested my head on his chest, my hand clasped in his, over his heart, and I closed my eyes, picturing what life could be like if things were different. Maybe we’d buy a bigger house here in Harpers Ferry. Gabe could start his own security business like his friend had, or he could help me run the bar. Maybe we’d have a kid of our own, a brother or sister for little Savannah. We might not have much, but we had everything we needed.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he whispered against my temple, his breath warm and minty with a hint of the rum he’d had earlier. “You look happy.”
“I am happy,” I said, smiling. I had Gabe. I had Savannah. I had the tavern. Usually moments like this were a red flag that everything was about to come crashing down, but here, tonight, I felt nothing but gratitude and grace.
Standing on tiptoe, I rose until our mouths were even, and I met his gaze. “I believe, sir, that you owe me another kiss.”
His slow smile turned me into a puddle of gooey desire. “Well, then. Best pay up, huh?”
Our lips had just met when the fire alarm blared.
* * *
“What the—” I pulled back from Charlotte, scowling and trying to figure out what the hell was happening. It took a second for the lust haze in my brain to wear off and for reality to snap back into place. “Shit. It’s the fire alarm.” I took Charlotte by the arm and pushed her toward the door to the front of house. “Get outside and call 9-1-1—now.”
“But I think it’s just a false alarm!” she yelled above the noise.
“Either way, we need to let the fire department know. Go!”
She turned toward the door, but the minute it swung open to the main bar area, it was clear this wasn’t a false alarm. A blast of heat rushed in, and a flickering orange-red glow danced up the walls. I couldn’t see any actual flames yet from where I was standing, but they were there. I was sure of it. Especially since the sinister black smoke creeping along the ceiling like a phantom was a dead giveaway.
How the fuck?
Shit. Think, dude. Think.
I squinted through the increasingly acrid air, searching for a fire extinguisher. They were required by code in all public buildings. There it was, on the wall closest to the bar. I tugged my shirt up to cover my mouth and nose and ran over to grab it, but it was too hot to touch, and the smoke was too bad now anyway.
When we’d finished cleaning up out there, maybe an hour ago, everything had been fine. Charlotte had double-checked the front doors, and they’d been locked. But sometime between when we’d come back here to do the dishes and now, a raging inferno had started. I shifted into planning mode.
The smoke was building quickly. Charlotte was coughing and looked pale and shaken. I couldn’t blame her. Watching the life you’d built evaporate in front of your eyes did that to a person. I should know. But we couldn’t worry about the tavern now.
We had to focus on getting out of the place alive. I shook her gently to jar her out of her daze, then shouted, gesturing in case she couldn’t hear me, “We can’t get out the front. Let’s use the back exit into the alley and call the fire department from there.”
She nodded, and we struggled back through the kitchen, coughing and wheezing. Reaching the back door, I shoved hard with my shoulder.
Nothing.
I tried again, but it didn’t budge. I glanced over at Charlotte, who gave me a wild-eyed look. I knew that look. I felt the same fear, but I couldn’t let it take over. I had to stay calm for us to have any hope of getting out of here.
