Chapter 23
Melody and Mateo stayed at The Copper Rose until the last song was played, and only a few couples remained on the dance floor.
Until after last call. Until Melody was breathless and flushed.
Until she felt certain she was still sleeping in that car and had dreamed the whole thing.
But her sore feet and pounding heart told her she was very much awake.
They arrived to find the club crowded from wall to wall.
Mateo kept a tight hand at her waist as he’d led her to the bar, using his broad shoulders and intimidating stare to clear a space for them.
Leaning against the counter, he caught the attention of the bartender and leaned in to place an order.
He didn’t bother to ask what she might want, but Melody wasn’t the least bit shocked when the bartender placed a peach daiquiri on a napkin in front of her.
Mateo accepted a Scotch, neat, and eyed her over the glass as she took her first sip.
The daiquiri was perfect, not too strong but strong enough that she knew they hadn’t skimped on the rum.
Each icy gulp helped cool her from the inside, combating the heat caused by so many bodies clustered in one place.
“Good?” he asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.
She nodded, then wrinkled her nose when he extended his glass to her, eyebrows raised.
“Want something a little stronger?”
He waved the glass under her nose and laughed when she pushed it away.
“That stuff tastes like vodka with cigarette butts in it!” she exclaimed before going back to her daiquiri.
“It does not,” he argued. “You just haven’t had a good Scotch yet. But we’ll change that.”
Melody chose not to argue, leaning into him and gazing around the club with wide eyes.
Despite her love of Country music, she’d never been in a place like this.
She’d spent more time in slick Hip Hop and Dance clubs over the years, and while she appreciated most genres of music, she loved nothing more than Country.
She had always danced to the songs alone in her room growing up, improvising steps and pretending to know what she was doing.
The interior of The Copper Rose was as rustic and charming as its exterior.
The scents of beer, sawdust, and leather mingled with the smoke from the barbecue pit out back.
They had passed a food truck on the way in, and the tempting smells had made their way inside.
Thick wooden beams crossed overhead, strung with strings of fairy lights that looked like ropes of stars.
The large, open dance floor occupied much of the space, caged in by a railing along which people stood to watch the dancers.
Booths and high-top tables lined the walls, while a second level held pool tables and more places to sit.
The walls were cluttered with western knickknacks—worn cowboy hats hanging on pegs, rows of beer cans and empty bottles lining floating shelves, neon signs and coils of rope, sepia-toned photos of men in chaps and belt buckles and women in daisy dukes and boots.
Her eyes fell on the cowboy hats, belt buckles, denim, leather, and cotton worn by the people around them.
She and Mateo didn’t seem out of place in the crowd as Melody had feared before coming inside.
At least half the women wore dresses in flirty, feminine styles, and several men had shunned the cowboy aesthetic for whatever felt natural for them.
She eyed Mateo with warmth blossoming in her chest. His dark jeans were a slim fit, accentuating his long legs.
A black T-shirt clung to his torso, and he wore a denim jacket that looked broken in and comfortable—as if he wore it all the time.
When he stood close, she could smell his scent clinging to it, that leathery, smoky cologne that drove her senses into overdrive.
The current song was lively and bouncy, sparking a flurry of movement from the crowded dance floor.
Boots scuffed and stomped across the floorboards, sending up flurries of sawdust. Swiveling lights flashed in shades of red, blue, and pink.
The atmosphere itself felt charged and electric, making it difficult for Melody to stand still as she drained her first daiquiri.
Mateo knocked back his Scotch and took her hand once she’d finished working her straw at the bottom of the glass to get the last few drops.
“You look about ready to bust,” he joked, pulling her away from the bar. “Come on, baby girl, let’s boot scoot.”
Melody laughed, pulling back on his hand to slow him down and digging in her heels. “Mateo, wait! I don’t know how!”
He took both her hands, walking backward as he led her onto the floor. “All you have to do is follow my lead.”
Melody fell against his side and clung tight, nervous and uncertain.
They were jostled from all sides, pushed into the movements as Melody struggled to keep up.
Mateo was patient and unconcerned with the people around them as he showed her the steps.
She felt like an idiot for the first minute, but Mateo was having none of that.
His hold on her was sure, and his encouragement when she did something right bolstered her confidence.
He grinned at her when she caught the rhythm, letting her go to move alongside him in time with the various kicks and claps.
Her face split into a smile that stayed plastered to her face for most of the night.
Mateo kept her on the dance floor between trips to the bar, teaching her how to boot scoot and two-step, then taking her into his arms and showing her just what he’d meant when he'd said he would dance her dizzy.
She hadn’t been surprised to see him excel at the line dances, his steps crisp and precise, his timing impeccable.
But when he clenched an arm around her waist, took a hand in his and moved her across the floor in dizzying dips and turns, Melody learned that Mateo was a bit of a show-off.
He shocked her with a dip first, bending her until her braids nearly swept the floor before levering her back up and against him and sweeping her in a swift turn.
She’d scrambled to hold onto him, feeling his shoulders shake with laughter.
“I’ve got you,” he said against her ear. “Trust me to be there for you.”
“You just want an excuse to manhandle me,” she teased.
His eyes glittered with mischief before he raised her arm and coaxed her into a little spin. “Guilty as charged. But you’ll like it.”
She did like it. Once she realized that Mateo maintained complete control, she threw herself into the music and into him.
He caught her hand and spun her under his arm, once, twice, three times, sending the skirt of her dress fluttering around her legs.
He reeled her back in with a sharp tug that made her fall into him, boneless and weightless.
Her feet barely touched the floor as he manipulated her, lifting and twirling, hurling her this way and that.
His hands never left her, possessive and dominating, pushing and pulling her the way he wanted.
She clung to him and let him carry her away, clutching his shoulders, his neck, his waist.
The music began to wind down as the night went on, sweaty stomping and kicking giving way to clutching and swaying. Mateo tucked her head under his chin, their entwined hands held between them against his chest, humming the melody of Tennessee Whiskey as the world around them fell away.
Melody tipped her head up to look at him, captivated to find he was already there, eyes open and fixated on her.
They were dark and fathomless in the low lighting, glittering with promise.
His fingers traced a path down her spine, toying with the strings tying up the back of her dress.
They were almost alone on the dance floor, only a few couples left as most of the crowd had begun melting out into the night.
This moment, this night, this song, this dance …
belonged to them. Melody clung to Mateo, closing her eyes and wishing it would never end.
He released her waist and used his hand to tilt her chin, then tucked a few braids behind her ear, caressing the lobe with a fingertip. “What am I going to do in the morning?” he whispered, sounding pained. “When I have to let you go?”
She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, lifting her arms to wrap around his neck. “Don’t. Don’t let me go.”
His arms came around her, anchoring her against him. “Not tonight, baby girl. Tonight, you belong to me.”
Melody buried her face in his chest and fought back a wave of tears.
She wanted to tell him that they were so far past that.
No matter what happened beyond this night, Melody felt as if she would always belong to him.
Regardless of who tried to buy and sell her next.
Despite the visceral ache she would feel when it inevitably came time for them to part ways.
Even though he could never truly belong to her in the same way.
He had reached inside of her and latched onto the one part of Melody she had thought long dead.
The thing that tricked her into holding on to hope.
She decided that for tonight, hope was okay. Mateo had only taken her three hours from New Orleans, but it felt as if they stood a world away, far removed from the unspeakable situation that had pushed them together. Until they had returned, she could pretend that none of it mattered.