Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Brooks
T he sound of a packed bar beyond the office door carries through the wood, permeating my office with a blanket of sound. Loud patrons try to outdo one another over the sound of the karaoke machine that Indie insisted we have for the grand re-opening.
With the money pouring in since she helped me get into the green and her business taking off like a rocket, she talked me into renovating the bar and re-opening it with a banger of a party—her words, not mine.
Nick’s head pops in as the door opens, and the volume turns tenfold. “You coming, man?”
“Yeah. I was just…”
Nick’s knocked aside as Indie forces her way past him. “Just hiding away in his lair while I do all the work?” she accuses, rounding my desk and plopping in my lap.
Her arms come around my neck, and I momentarily forget what we were discussing as her lips find mine in a bruising kiss.
“This was your event, remember?”
“Oh, I know! I’ve spent the last two months painstakingly planning it. But you should remember that we discussed this. You have to attend the grand re-opening of your bar.”
“I mean, technically, it’s Nick’s bar now.” I point at my brother, trying to blend into the wall near the door.
Nick’s hands come up in defense. “Leave me out of this. You know what? I’m gonna go.” Slithering out the door and shutting it behind him, he leaves me alone with Indie and the muted sounds of the drunken chaos in the bar.
“I know what we discussed, but it’s so loud out there, red. How about you and I sneak upstairs…” Her finger over my lips cuts off my words.
“No. I’m not negotiating, and you’re not hiding in here. You have ten minutes to ready yourself for the madness out there because, trust me, it’s wild. Then, you’re going to make your appearance. Without your bat,” she adds, eyeing me sternly.
My bat sits in the corner longingly, and I smirk as I eye it. “I haven’t had to bring my bat out since a certain redhead blew through town, actually.”
She leans in, her lips moving against mine in a way that promises more to come if I behave tonight. “That’s because said redhead kept you busy afterward.”
“Touché.”
She walks toward the door and turns back to glare at me. “Ten minutes, Brooksie.”
I growl at Taylor’s nickname that she adopts when I’m annoying her. She knows it gets under my skin.
She blows me a kiss as she slips out of the office, and I get ready to go to war with the sea of people in the bar.
To hear this place so lively again after being away in California with Indie is something I love, but something I’m also not used to.
Running my hands over the desk, I decide I don’t want to keep her waiting any longer and risk no rewards later on in the night when the doors are locked, so I stand and flick off the office lights, moving out through the throngs of drunken people who all have their sights firmly locked on my girl.
Oh, hell no!
Indie slides across the bar, microphone in hand, and then flings her hair through the air to the music, singing at the top of her lungs.
“Get off my bar!” I shout, and her microphone picks up my booming voice, which carries through the room.
She snaps to attention, her shit-eating grin lighting up her beautiful face. “Oh, look, guys, a party pooper has emerged from his natural habitat.”
The room breaks into laughter.
“Get down!” I repeat, crossing my arms as I look up at her.
“Or what? What will you do if I don’t get off your bar?”
The music cuts, and she takes a minute to cover her eyes from the barrage of heavy lighting to look over at the DJ manning the karaoke machine. “Hey! I’m not finished!”
The DJ looks between Indie and me, seeming to contemplate who’s paying him tonight as he grapples with how to move forward.
Growling, I crawl up onto the bar, praying like hell I don’t bust my ass in front of all these fucking people. Snatching the microphone from her, I bring it to my mouth. “You’re the most insufferable human being I know. Do you know that?”
Indie’s brows furrow in shock. Probably that I’m up here in the first place.
“You don’t listen,” I continue. “You don’t take no for an answer. You’re a walking insurance liability, and you’re hard-headed as fuck!”
The room’s gone deathly silent. You could hear a pin drop from a mile away.
“And yet, you’re the most beguiling creature I’ve ever known.”
Indie’s confused look deepens.
“Tonight was all planned out, you know? I only had to pull myself together, and things would’ve fallen into place. But no, Indie has to have her moment.”
“What? I?—”
I drop to one knee in front of her; something wet seeps into the knee of my jeans, and I try to ignore the rising aggravation as I pull the ring box from my pocket and open it.
“Brooks,” she breathes.
“You are everything to me. I wanted to do this later, after the crowd died down some and we had a moment alone, but then, doing it that way wouldn’t be us , would it?”
She grins, tears filling her eyes as she shakes her head.
“Well, you massive pain in my ass. Will you marry me?”
She sniffs. “That depends.”
My heart skips a beat as I hear a few gasps from the crowd.
“Will I be on the insurance if we get married?”
My mouth is gaping open, my brain trying to figure out her angle. She always has an angle.
“So I can dance on our bar whenever I want to without the growly proprietor of the establishment kicking me off? I mean, if I’m married to him, I don’t see why I can’t…”
Standing, I grab her up and silence her, kissing her long and hard. The microphone drops between us, thunking as the entire bar loses its shit, cheering and clapping as I angle my mouth on hers, deepening the kiss.
I press my forehead to hers, breathing her in as she giggles.
“That was a yes, right?” I ask, feeling a bit stupid for jumping the gun if it wasn’t.
“Oh, Brooks, of course, it’s a yes.”
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Indie. Even if you started as a massive thorn in my side and sometimes still are, I can’t see myself without you. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Even if you won’t let me dance on your bar.”
I shake my head as I take the ring out of the box and slide it on her finger.
I get off the bar, landing awkwardly. When I turn around and look up at her, she’s got her brows knitted together in confusion.
Handling her the microphone, I wave my hand in the air toward the DJ, signaling him to give the girl her music back.
“Really?” she squeaks.
“Go on, red. Give us a show!”
Indie
I lift the bottle of champagne Brooks pulled out from the backroom and top off everyone’s glasses, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over me. We’re crammed into the same booth where we sat for Taylor’s bachelorette party, and I can’t help but marvel at how much has changed in less than a year.
My best friend is married and already talking about babies. I have a gorgeous, vintage-inspired ring on my finger and the man I love sitting beside me. My business has expanded to where I now have an entire team behind me, which means I can finally carve out some time for myself—something that will be crucial with my own wedding on the horizon. Brooks, meanwhile, has launched his own mobile bartending business, and with the number of events I have on my calendar, he’s been completely booked solid. It works perfectly.
“Let me see it again!” Taylor squeals from across the table.
The bar’s quieter now, the crowd thinning out after last call. A few regulars linger at the counter, finishing their round.
I pull my hand free from Brooks', where he’s been absentmindedly toying with my ring as we catch up with friends and family, celebrating our engagement. It feels so good to be back here, surrounded by everyone we love. I hold my hand out, the diamond catching the light.
“Eek! You did so good, Brooksie! And you didn’t even need my help,” Taylor gushes, taking my fingers in hers and giving them a squeeze.
I beam at Brooks, feeling a swell of love and pride. He knew me well enough to pick out the perfect ring—one that’s vintage, elegant, and exactly what I would have chosen for myself. He even got the sizing just right.
“He sure did,” I murmur, my voice low and just for him.
The room seems to fade away as he looks at me, his gaze locking with mine. I love our friends and miss them, but we’ve let them stay their welcome. I need to be alone with him. The heat in his eyes sends a spark of desire racing through me, and the pulse in my core quickens. He must sense it, too, because, without a word, he hops out of the booth and lets loose a sharp whistle over the jukebox. The talking ceases, but the music plays on softly in the background.
It’s well past two a.m., and on any other night, the bar would be wiped down and closed for the night. But tonight, we weren’t ready to shut the party down—perks of sleeping with the owner.
“Alright, bar’s officially closed. Time to pack it in, folks,” Brooks announces, his voice carrying over the melody of a country love song.
Taylor scowls in his direction, clearly not thrilled at the prospect of being shooed away so soon. But Spencer leans in, whispering something in her ear, and her expression softens before that signature megawatt smile lights up her face.
“Fine, fine. We’ll get out of your hair,” she concedes, making her way toward the front door behind Nick, who’s letting us crash upstairs this week, followed by the last of the regulars.
Before she disappears out the door, she pulls me in for a tight hug and whispers an enthusiastic, “I told you so” in my ear.
Brooks locks the door, then pulls the string on the open sign to switch off the neon glow. The lingering sounds of the bar seem to dissipate as he stalks toward me, his boots crunching over the scattered peanut shells on the floor.
I lean back against one of the now-empty tables, the weight of his stare warming me from a distance.
“So, we know the insurance company frowns upon dancing on your... I mean our bar,” I tease, eyes sparkling. “But how do you think they’d feel about sex on one of the tables? Or would that be more of an issue for the health inspector?”
He raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he closes the distance between us. “You gonna be trouble for me, red?”
“Every day, for the rest of your life.”