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A little shotgun burst of laughter erupted from my chest as the bartender slid an amber-colored shot toward me, followed by some greenish liquid.
I shook my head and looked at the surfer. “You have no idea.” I leaned forward on the bar and gestured toward the shot glasses. “What is it?”
The bartender laughed. “Does it matter?” he asked, but then added, “It’s a pickleback. A shot of whiskey and a pickle juice chaser.”
My face twisted as I swallowed and stared down at the liquid. I needed something—anything—to give me the courage to walk up to Lee tonight.
I slapped my palm on the worn bar top. “Let’s do it.” In one quick motion, I threw back the shot and immediately followed it with the pickle juice. I was hit with the smoky, woody flavor of the whiskey, but the tang of pickle juice immediately counteracted the burn of the alcohol.
I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth. “Oh, man.”
The guy to my left shot both arms into the air. “Took it like a champ!” he shouted above the crowd, and his buddy laughed. “Hey, next round’s on me.”
I shook my head and sucked in a deep breath. “Not this time, guys.”
Instead, I headed in the direction of Lee and Mia, just as the song they were dancing to was coming to a close. I wound through the crowd, bumping into shoulders and politely maneuvering around the people crowding the dance floor.
Lee laughed as Mia said something funny, and nerves jumped in my belly, seeing them engaged in a casual conversation.
His eyes shot to mine over her shoulder, and I lifted my chin. “Mind if I cut in for the next one?”
Mia turned at the sound of my voice, and a polite smile graced her pretty face. “I know better than to get between you two when you’re cutting it up on the dance floor.” She opened her arm in a sweeping gesture. “He’s all yours.”
He’s all yours.
God, I hope so.
Mia left the dance floor, and Lee was stiff as I took a tentative step toward him. I opened my arms. “Just gonna leave a girl hanging?”
With a low growl, Lee stepped forward, closing the distance between us. He wrapped his arms around me in a move he had done a thousand times before. While I would have preferred the moody romantic ebb and flow of a sad country song, I wasn’t that lucky. The band kicked into an upbeat song, and Lee began to move me in a quick, familiar two-step.
I closed my eyes, letting the music move through me and feeling the strong support of his arm beneath mine. His hands were steady and his feet were confident as we moved through the crowd.
Dancing with Lee had always been special. They were the only moments I had allowed myself to be truly lost in him and experience the feelings I had always harbored but fought so hard to keep from the surface.
As we moved apart and came together again, my eyes were searching his. “Thanks for dancing with me.”
His eyes barely flicked down to mine. “Yup.”
“I was hoping maybe after this we could talk? That I might be able to explain a few things.”
Lee’s arms dropped and he took two steps away before stopping in his tracks. He turned toward me. “Explain a few things?” He lifted his palms up. “Now you want to talk?”
Shaking his head, he turned away from me and stormed toward the back exit. Feeling completely helpless and embarrassed, I looked around to see sad, knowing faces and a few pitiful shakes of the head from several couples on the dance floor.
Hurrying, I followed the path Lee had made as he cut through the crowd and pushed open the heavy back door of the Grudge to find him pacing in the dimly lit parking lot behind the bar.
“Lee. Hey, come on. I’m sorry!” I called out.
Anger flashed over his features as his steps ate up the distance between us and he stood right before me. I had to tip my chin up to look him in the eyes.
“You’re sorry? You’re fucking sorry? What are you sorry for, Annie? Please tell me. I’d love to know.”
I had seen all versions of Lee over the years. I’d seen him sad or distracted or hung up on a girl or disappointed. I’d even seen him angry, but that anger had never once been directed toward me. I wasn’t afraid of him but was deeply saddened at the pain I had caused, evident in his stormy green-gray eyes.
“Yes, Lee.” My voice cracked. “I need you to know that I am so sorry for not telling you. For writing the letters in the first place.”
Lee pointed a finger in my direction. “Don’t. Don’t you do that. God...” He let out a frustrated breath and turned to walk a few steps before turning back to me. “Do you know what? Yeah, I am angry. But do you even know why I’m so pissed off?”
