The place was jam-packed, and he stood for a moment, taking in the crowd. He recognized a few faces, and then spotted Grier on a barstool bestowing a flirtatious smile at a grinning bartender. He was clearly under her spell, despite the fact that he looked barely legal enough to be serving liquor, much less entertaining the notion of being seduced by Grier McAllister.
Bobby Jack walked over and eased his way in between Grier and the soon to be too-drunk-to-sit-up-straight man next to her. “I’ll take a Bud Light,” Bobby Jack said to the bartender.
Grier swung an inebriated glance at him, her eyes going wide in recognition. “Bobby Jack Randall! What are you doing here?” He heard the slur in the words and wondered exactly where she might’ve ended up tonight if he hadn’t stopped. Maybe it was a place she wanted to end up. Something in the thought bothered him for reasons he didn’t really want to look at. He leaned one elbow on the bar, hung his gaze onto her, and said, “Just stopping in for a beer.”
She made a sound of disbelief. “Are you checking up on me?”
The words hit a little too close to the truth for him to voice a denial, so he simply rolled his eyes and took his beer from the obviously disappointed bartender.
“Don’t you have better things to do?” she asked, a little roll at the end of each of the words.
“The question is, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“You don’t think I like places like this?”
“It’s not the worst place I could picture you in,” he said on a note of reason.
“Would you like to dance?” she said, alcohol no doubt letting the question slip out.
He shook his head. “You are going to regret this in the morning.”
“It’s not morning yet. It’s still night, and I’m not done.” She waved her hand to the bartender and called out, “Can I have another, please?”
The bartender said, “Sure thing,” reached for a glass, poured a splash of gin, added some tonic and lime, and slid it across the bar top.
“You sure you oughta do that?” Bobby Jack said.
“Who are you, my daddy?”
“So not your daddy,” he said with immediate conviction.
She pulled back and gave him a long, assessing look. “You sure aren’t.”
This brought another smile to his lips, despite the realization that he was playing with fire. The question was, which one of them was going to get burned?
The band cranked up another beat thumper. Grier took his hand and said, “You never gave me an answer, but come on, anyway.”
What made him slide off that stool and follow her had nothing to do with common sense or anything remotely related.
She led him out to the dance floor, her hips already finding the song’s groove and simultaneously drawing his eyes to their center.
Grier slipped her arms around his neck, and he looked down at her, feeling suddenly more than a little drunk on the look in her eyes.
“Grier,” he said, her name half protest, half plea.
“Anybody ever call you uptight?”
“A time or two.”
“For now, let’s go prove them wrong.” She led the way then, and he was helpless but to follow. It had been a very long time since he’d felt this kind of pull to any woman. The song ended, and another started up.
The crowd immediately picked up the increased tempo, so that the floor felt like a living sea of rhythm-drunk bodies.
Bobby Jack realized then that he didn’t need alcohol to get drunk on Grier McCallister. He could lose all hold on reason by the simple sway of her hips and the way her hair felt against his fingertips.
In fact, just then, he wanted to get hammered on the woman in his arms. Stone cold oblivious to anything else but the way she was staring at his mouth.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Bobby Jack heard his brother’s voice and started to turn just as a fist slammed into his jaw. The impact sent stars whirling out in front of him.
He heard a scream, and then Grier screaming, “Darryl Lee! What are you doing?”
Darryl Lee gave Bobby Jack a two-palmed shove into a no longer dancing couple, knocking him to the floor and scattering folks left and right while the band kept playing. “Get the hell up and fight back!” Darryl Lee snapped. “You two face son of a—”
Bobby Jack was up now and went at his brother, not giving himself a second to think about the consequences. He line-backed Darryl Lee straight across the dance floor to the main entrance where somebody held the door open, and they both staggered into the parking lot.
Darryl Lee started swinging like a kindergarten bully, and Bobby Jack put his right shoulder into his brother’s chest, flipping him once so that he landed on his back with a loud “umph!”.
Bobby Jack stood over him, breathing hard. “You had enough?”
“Hayyyle no!” he yelled, getting to his feet and aiming a tackle at Bobby Jack’s midsection.
“Have you two lost your minds?” Grier appeared in the parking lot, screaming for somebody to break them up. When there weren’t any takers, she ran at them, pole-vaulting herself in between them.
“Stop! Stop it right now!” The action served to separate them long enough so that they stood there breathing like two fighting bulls.
“And you call yourself a brother!” Darryl Lee threw out.
“Darryl Lee! He didn’t plan to meet me here! It was an accident.”
Darryl Lee croaked a laugh of disbelief. “Oh yeah, right. It was an accident that you two were cozied up out on that dance floor like he already had the key to the motel room in his pocket.”
Grier reached out and slapped Darryl Lee, a ringing smack that made his eyes go wide. He stood there staring at her, clearly shocked.
“What right do you think you have to even comment on who I might or might not be dancing with? Or anything else for that matter? You’re a married man! Does that mean nothing to you?”
He had the decency then to look a little ashamed, hanging his head the way Bobby Jack had seen him do at age thirteen when their mama had caught him about to steal her car and take it to town one night after everyone had gone to bed.
Darryl Lee looked at them both for one long second and then pinned his gaze on Bobby Jack before saying, “It’s sure true that I don’t have any right, Grier, but it’s also true that I deserve some respect from my brother.”
Bobby Jack opened his mouth to throw something back at Darryl Lee. But something inside him snapped with softness for the little brother who’d followed him around, copying everything he did from the day he was born. On some level, Darryl Lee was right. He was a chicken-ass traitor. Hadn’t he been the one telling Darryl Lee that Grier McAllister was a bad idea? And here he was dancing with her like – Darryl Lee’s words came back to him – he had the motel key in his pocket.
The itch to hit his brother leaked from his clenched fists like water through a flyswatter. He backed up, holding his palms in the air. “Darryl Lee, man, let’s just take some time to cool off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Shit!” Darryl Lee said, slapping his palms against his blue-jeaned thighs. “You’ll be lucky if I ever talk to you again, brother.” He stormed off, slammed his way into his pickup, threw it in reverse, and spit gravel all the way out of the parking lot.
Bobby Jack and Grier stood there, silent, for a long string of moments. He finally looked at her and said, “Well, this is awkward.”
She shook her head and ran her hands through her hair, shaking it loose, and then lifting it off the back of her neck. “I don’t even really have any idea what to say,” she said.
He could hear that the former state of inebriation had all but evaporated. The crowd pretty much turned in unison and filed back inside now that the show was over, a man in the front calling out, “Sure wouldn’t wanna be you tomorrow, Bobby Jack.”
“I’m sorry,” Grier said, looking at him.
“It’s not your fault,” Bobby Jack said.
“Well, actually, it is.”
He dusted off his jeans, knowing he was going to regret the question even as he asked it. “What are you doing out here anyway?”
Grier blew out a breath, didn’t answer for a few moments, and then, “I went to see my mother out at the Sunset Retirement Home this afternoon.”
Bobby Jack heard the thread of pain in her voice. “I knew she was out there.”
Grier laughed a short laugh. “Yeah, well, I didn’t.”
He shook his head, confused. “What do you mean you didn’t?”
“Before I came back to Timbell Creek, I had no idea she was in a nursing home.”
He waited, unsure what to say.
She was quiet for a few moments, and then said, “Can we ride around for a bit? I don’t think I should drive quite yet.”
Bobby Jack knew this would be another bad idea. Still, he nodded and said, “Come on.” He opened the passenger door of his truck, and she climbed in while he went around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel.
“Where’s your dog?” he said.
“I took him back to the Inn earlier. He was ready for a nap.”
Bobby Jack nodded, silent then, as he drove away from the Beer Boot. “Anywhere in particular you wanna go?”
“No,” she said.
He thought then that she sounded like someone lost. Maybe someone who’d been lost for a while.
He took one of the small roads that led out to the lake. It was quiet out here. Most of the land was still used for cow pastures, a few houses scattered here and there. He’d bought a piece of land before the prices rocketed up. He turned onto a gravel road and they bumped along until they came to the end where the lake began just a few yards away. They had the windows rolled down and Grier said, “Did somebody just cut hay?”
Bobby Jack said, “Yesterday.”
“I love that smell.”
“Me too,” he said.
“Can we get out?” she asked.
“Sure.” He opened the door, a little surprised when she scooted across the seat and slipped out behind him. His pulse drummed the base notes even as his brain reminded him of what had just happened with Darryl Lee. And the absolutely crazy fact that he was out here with this woman. He stepped away from her, thinking distance might be his only saving grace. He walked down to the edge of the water, and she followed.
The night air was cool now, stars decorating the ink black sky like white lights on a Christmas tree. The moon hung high, a beacon of light illuminating the water’s surface.
Grier slipped off her sandals and sat down at the edge of the bank, dipping her feet into the water. “Ahh, that feels so good,” she said.
He sat down as well, careful to keep space between them. She glanced at him, clearly aware of the effort he was making to avoid her.
“I’m really sorry about everything that happened tonight,” Grier said.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yeah, it kinda was. I all but bullied you into dancing.”
He’d like to agree with her, certainly could if it would save face by doing so. But it would’ve been a lie. He’d wanted to be out there on that dance floor with her, wanted her close against him. He wanted it even now.
“How long will he be mad at you?” Grier asked.
“Ohh, maybe a little longer than usual, but he’ll get over it.”
Grier sighed. “You know he doesn’t really still have a thing for me. It’s just. . .a pride thing, I guess.”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
Bobby Jack let that hang for a moment. “So what happened with your mama today?”
She reached down and trailed her fingers through the water.
“That was the first time I’ve talked to her since I left over nineteen years ago.”
“Whoa,” he said.
“Yeah.”
He waited, aware that poking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted or needed would be another ill-advised move.
“We have a pretty complicated history,” she said. “She used to drink.”
Bobby Jack remembered seeing her out in public places after she’d clearly had a few. It hadn’t been pretty.
“When I left at eighteen, I guess I was so full of anger, I never wanted to see her again. She. . .let some pretty awful things happen. But the woman I saw today wasn’t that woman.”
Bobby Jack could almost feel her pain. He wanted to reach out, pull her to him and absorb it. At least a piece of it, so it wasn’t so heavy. But he forced himself not to. Waiting instead until she went on.
“I wanted her to be. . . I wanted to have a reason to still hate her.” Tears choked her voice then and she dropped her head back, staring up at the sky, something in between a laugh and a sob breaking free from her throat. “Like you need to hear any of this.”
“I’d like to hear,” he said quietly.
“I don’t know why I went. I shouldn’t have. It’s too late for anything to change. And now she’s sick.” Her voice broke on the word, and she started to cry now. Huge, gulping sobs that seemed to wash over her like angry ocean waves.
Bobby Jack reached for her then, unable to stop himself. He pulled her up tight into the curve of his arm, forming a barrier around her like sandbags against a flood. He would let her cry as long as she needed to.
And she did for a good long while. It felt as if she released an entire lifetime’s worth of grief there in the circle of his arms. He didn’t know what else to do except hold her until it loosened its grip.
When her sobs finally quieted, she leaned limp against him as if she didn’t have the energy to move away.
An owl hooed from a nearby tree. A fishing boat started up a cove or so away and idled off into the distance. They sat there, silent, while he felt the shift of something inside him.
It left him with the certainty that this night would change his life, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.
A first kiss can be an utter disappointment.
Or a life-changing, forever-not-to-be-lived-up-to revelation. Or so I’ve been told.
Grier McAllister – Blog at Jane Austen Girl
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Grier never wanted to move. It made absolutely no sense, but not once in her life had she ever found herself in a place that felt like it was the only place she’d ever been meant to be. Here in the circle of Bobby Jack Randall’s arms.
Her hand lay pressed to the center of his chest even though she had no memory of putting it there. She only knew she didn’t want to move it. He rubbed his thumb across the top of her shoulder. Something about the simplicity of his gesture broke down the wall of need inside her, and she lifted her face to his. “Would you please kiss me, Bobby Jack?”