4. Cadence
Cadence
B reathing in the fresh, new carpet air, Haley halted mid-inhale, hacking and coughing out the fumes that singed her nose hairs. Damn, that was downright noxious. Even after opening every window in the house wide open, her vision was still blurred as her eyes tried to flush it out.
Yet it was an improvement from the thick layer of dust that still coated her sinuses.
She grabbed her purse and headed into the garage, which was now fully functional thanks to the garage door opener she’d installed while the flooring crew was doing their thing.
For all her designs before, she hadn’t installed much.
Her arms still trembled from the exertion and her shin throbbed where there was likely a permanent indent, but she did it. And it felt so freaking good.
Maybe she was tooting her own horn a bit soon, but she was pretty good at this stuff. Watch out Bob Vila.
She hopped into the Land Rover, tossed her purse onto the passenger seat, cranked up the stereo, and slipped on her aviator glasses. As Grady would say, Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.
Chuckling, she thought how much fun she’d had yesterday, the adventure of getting to know her family all over again.
Grady and Claire had brought breakfast sandwiches and stayed until dusk, buffing and polishing.
She and her brothers had been close as kids, but it had been tough so far apart, all of them too busy through school to visit much.
And Claire. She was so normal and goofy and down to earth. So good for Grady, who took himself way too seriously. Used to anyway. Actually, seeing how he had dug his heels in and decided to be the man he wanted to be, was damn inspiring.
After they’d left, she’d hardly slept, wired after spending the day visiting with people she was completely herself with. Not just because she could, but because they brought it out in her.
And, despite her muscles screaming at her, she felt so… alive. Naturally, muscles were important for basic functioning, but to be able to feel them again? Fan-freaking-tastic.
High on satisfaction, or perhaps carpet emissions, she drove straight to her favorite pub, knowing it wasn’t just the food she was looking forward to.
Parking was at a premium in town tonight; she was lucky to find a spot around the corner.
Checking her reflection in the mirror, she smoothed a few unruly eyebrow hairs, ran her fingers through her hair, and checked her teeth were free of lunch debris.
After a much-needed shower, she’d tossed on a simple cream-colored sundress and low boots. A little boho with a hint of edge, she’d always liked the look. It didn’t hurt that Nate hadn’t liked it one bit. Too short, too hippy, and too many eyelets.
One of her quiet rebellions. She was never going to be the picture-perfect show-wife again, but she still liked to feel pretty. For her. Maybe she’d add a style page to her blog and pull in more revenue.
The moment she stepped into the pub, she instantly relaxed at the mouthwatering scent on the air.
Not interested in the quiet table in the corner, she sought an open stool at the bar.
Appearing in the doorway from the kitchen, her favorite part of the pub was still laughing from some shared joke with the cook, or so she assumed, as he backed out of the kitchen, rich laughter warming the air, his grin still genuine as he turned and delivered plates to a pair of customers at the bar.
Catching sight of her, he halted, crossing his arms over his chest, a slow smile forming just for her.
Pitter patter , her pulse tap-danced a hearty rhythm that spun her imagination for a dizzying twirl.
He motioned to the end of the bar and rubbed his towel over the surface so it was fresh and clean for her.
Without any input from her brain, she floated over. Spinning a coaster like a top, he slapped it down and slid it to the spot he’d cleared.
“Hey.” He grinned, resting his hands on the bar in front of her. Damn, she wanted to trace the lines that defined his arms. Did he spend all day at the gym?
“Hey,” she answered, the corner of her mouth tugging up like a fish on a hook. Worth every nibble of the bait.
“Welcome back. Bury any dead animals this morning?”
“What? Oh.” She chuckled softly. “No, thank goodness. I don’t think I’ll ever figure out how he got in. I have clean floors and functioning appliances now, so things are looking up.”
“Floors and appliances, huh? Not so much on the furniture?”
“Not so much.”
“Beer?”
“Please. Same as last time if you’ve got it.”
Stepping back, he moved to the taps.
The server helping the table behind her smiled as she passed. “I love those boots.”
“Thanks.”
With a wink, the server sashayed past, her ponytail keeping a metronomic rhythm with each sway of her hips.
Her favorite bartender returned a moment later with her beer, setting it on the coaster and sliding it toward her. “This one’s a little hoppier. Let me know what you think.” Hands resting on the bar in front of her, he gaged her reaction, the corners of his yummy lips turned up in anticipation.
She took a testing sip, the bubbles filling her mouth and buzzing down her throat. “Even better.”
“The guys at Black Op Brewing make us try out their creations before they bottle and send out for mass production.”
“What a chore,” she teased. She’d have to convince Grady to let her in on the early tasting crew, as part owner of the hippest microbrew in the region.
“Didn’t exactly have to twist my arm.” He grinned again.
Even his smile was irresistible, slow to form as if carefully considered, and he didn’t care to focus on anything but her.
A slight bend in his nose from an old injury and that unruly cowlick at his hairline told of a daring side that sent a thrill shuddering under her skin. “You hungry tonight?”
Yes. Starving. Be my rebound? “Um, yeah. That smoked salmon salad sounds amazing.”
“Good choice.”
“Hey, you mind if I get some work done?” She pulled her laptop from her purse and held it up.
“Make yourself at home. Please.” He backed up a step and turned, gliding to the computer to punch in her order. The man even moved beautifully, as if his hips, his core held all the power, every movement deliberate but graceful.
She set out her laptop and pulled up the draft of her next blog post. The text was nearly finished, but the photos were tough. Grime. Muck. Dust. Too bad she didn’t think to snap one of the dead raccoon. Maybe she’d add a funny cartoon to offset the bleakness of the scene.
As she neared the bottom half of the beer, having put mental blinders on to avoid watching the sexy bartender at work all night, she made acceptable progress by the time her food arrived.
Toasted walnuts and goat cheese dotted the top of the spring greens and smoked salmon, finely chopped red and yellow tomatoes made the meal a work of art in the white square bowl.
Flying over the bar, a rolled-up t-shirt rocketed toward the bartender.
Seemingly unaware, he calmly tucked his water under the register and snatched the package from the air in an easy movement.
In one fluid motion, he tucked it under his arm.
Another came hurtling toward him from the server that had tossed the last, and he caught it just as effortlessly.
“Your spiral’s coming along Tara.” He grinned at the server, then passed the shirts across the bar to the young couple that had just paid their tab.
Huh. Something familiar about that. He turned and headed into the kitchen. The back of his t-shirt caught her eye. In block lettering, HALSETH crossed the top, extending shoulder to shoulder.
Oh shit, she nearly choked on the salmon, catching it in her throat before she completely embarrassed herself.
Haircut, beard shaved, and totally out of context, but he was a regular in her fantasy life.
No wonder she’d been so instantly interested.
How had she missed it before? Trace was right, she absolutely needed a rebound.
He reappeared a moment later, carrying a plate of burgers in each hand. After he delivered the meal, he returned to check on her. “How’s the salad?”
Biting her cheek to mask her blushing grin, she endeavored to not sound like a number-one-foam-finger swinging, face-painted fanatic when she said, “You’re Finn Halseth.
” Not that she wasn’t a huge fan, but, wow, how would she have guessed her favorite athlete would be serving her drinks in her minuscule hometown?
“That’s me.” He looked at her funny, like he wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Or dreading what she knew. More of a wary smile than the flirty grin he’d granted her with all night.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to rat you out if it’s secret or anything. I’m a huge fan. I, uh, I just moved up from San Francisco.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Me too. A few months ago.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the bar in front of her, relaxing back into the slow smile that sizzled right down to her toes.
“You don’t know how many people begin that sentence with some graphic description of my knee bending the wrong direction last February. ”
She winced. “Yeah, that didn’t look comfortable. That must suck. You played some great football for the Fire for, what, five, six years? And people remember you for the injury? At least they’re remembering that last play. Pretty epic way to retire.”
Still smiling, he nodded. “Yeah, I suppose so. Got my super bowl ring on crutches. Not sure yet that it was worth it, but that was a hell of a game.”
From the kitchen, a woman with similar chocolate eyes, sporting a threatening glare for Finn, cleared her throat. “I said, order up.”
Feigning an apologetic wince, he backed up a few steps and turned to grab the plates from the woman that had to be his sister.
As he worked the busy pub, Haley forced herself to buckle down and finish the post. She liked to be consistent, treating it like a scheduled program rather than a hobby.
It helped build a steady following. And, well, it was her sole source of occupational income.
He appeared a few moments later to return her credit card. His mouth opened and closed like he was about to say something, but he held his breath, and then said. “Have a good night.”
T hat’s the best he could come up with? Not long ago, it didn’t take more than a wink and he had a date. He glanced down at the slip she’d signed in a casual, readable script. Haley Salsborough . “Drive safe, Haley,” he pathetically added.
Her lopsided grin still lingered as she rose from the stool and slung her purse over her shoulder.
“’Night,” she whispered, barely audible.
The pretty sundress she wore swung with each step.
Damn, she was curvy in all the right places.
He held his breath, arms folded over his chest as he watched her walk out the door. Should have asked her out.
Dammit, no. Trace was right. He wasn’t in any condition to pursue a relationship.
The very concept sounded terrible right now. He was just getting his shit together. What did he have to offer a woman, when he couldn’t even handle himself? Even the little experiment getting back together with Trace, who knew him well, or at least, she used to, had gone terribly.
Appearing in the kitchen doorway, Zoe raised a taunting eyebrow at him. “Hey, bro,” she said, grinning mischievously.
“Zoe.” He nodded, then moved to take another order.
She was still standing there when he turned around. “I think you were flirting.”
“I’m allowed to flirt with a beautiful woman now and again. I’m single. Besides, she’s from San Francisco and a fan. I don’t exactly have many of those anymore.”
“Are you interested because she’s attractive or because she’s an adoring groupie fawning over the great Finn Halseth?”
“Hey, I don’t do groupies.” He chuckled at the double entendre. He didn’t socialize with diehard fans that had deeper intentions, and certainly hadn’t done any in a damn long time.
Zoe’s smile fell, her eyebrows heavy. “I don’t think you need your heart broken again. Your career, then mom, then Trace… be careful, okay?”
“I’m not looking for anything. But it’s nice to be noticed.” So manly. Didn’t bother claiming that he was fine. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.
Tara swished past, pausing to whisper audibly to Zoe, “I think he needs a fling. Nothing serious, just a good lay.”
Rolling his eyes, Finn crossed his arms and backed up a few steps.
Zoe nodded, conspiracy glinting in her dark gaze. “Good plan. Either that or he can buy us a bigger hot water heater.”
Flashing the pair a wink, he spun around and caught up on greeting his latest customers.