Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Cassie
After the crowd last night, I knew the reopening of Bowman’s would be busy, but I never imagined the bar would end up this packed.
It feels like everyone in Pine Grove has come out to support Austin and his mum.
Like the rest of the floor and bar staff, I arrived at four-thirty and, from the moment the doors opened at five, there’s been a steady stream of customers.
There were a few families here for dinner, but the bar became adults-only at nine, and now the party atmosphere is really kicking in. The music’s turned up a little louder, the lights lowered to create a more intimate atmosphere, and the drinks are flowing.
Taking advantage of a momentary lull while all my tables are currently taken care of, I nip through the staff-only door for a quick pee break. I’m on my way back down the corridor when I hear a muffled curse coming from the office.
Edging closer, I peer through the gap where the door hasn’t swung fully closed.
“Fuck, fuck, fucking shit.” Austin’s staring at the phone is his hand, roughly running the other through his copper waves in distress.
I lightly tap my knuckles on the door, feeling bad when the sound makes him jump. “Are you alright?”
“What are you doing back here? You have tables to look after.”
Ah, there’s the Austin I know. Suddenly I’m less concerned about catching feelings for him. “If you must know, I had to pee. I was on my way back out there when I heard you cursing up a storm and thought I should check on you. My mistake.” I turn to leave.
“Wait. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”
“Yet somehow you manage to do exactly that almost every time we speak.”
His shoulders slump in defeat, and he leans against the wooden desk as if he no longer has the energy to hold himself up. “I know. You deserve better than to be on the receiving end of my shitty mood. I’m not usually so…”
“Dickish?” I offer when he trails off.
A bark of laughter escapes him, and a couple of fine lines crinkle at the corners of his eyes. It’s unfair for someone so infuriating to be this hot. “Yeah,” he smiles sheepishly, and it’s annoyingly endearing.
“What happened?” I ask, inclining my head towards his phone. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not unless you know how to sing and play an instrument.” Mistaking my shock for confusion, he elaborates.
“The band I booked to play tonight just called.” He shoves his phone back into his jeans pocket.
“Their van broke down and they’re not going to make it.
Everyone out there is expecting live music from nine-thirty and I’ve got nothing. ”
He looks so disappointed. It’s been clear from the moment we met how much Bowman’s and the reopening mean to him.
While I’m not sure what—if anything—to do about the weird push and pull between us, I can’t sit back and watch his hopes for the night fall apart when there’s something I can do about it.
“I do.”
“What?”
“Sing and play an instrument.”
His green eyes light up. “Right, I remember you had a guitar with you the other day. You’re really up for playing tonight?”
Am I seriously going to risk everything to help a near stranger?
I think over how, despite his initial grumpy attitude, Austin’s ended up helping me a lot since I got here.
He gave me a job and an alternative way of paying him for the damage my accident caused, and he arranged for my car to be taken to Gem’s.
Then there’s last night. An uncomfortable fluttering sensation stirs in my chest when I recall how he took care of me, held me until I was ready to go back inside despite the rain, and made sure I got home safely.
I’ve got you. His words echo in my mind as if taunting me to put my fears aside and do the right thing.
Damn it, I guess I’m doing this. “Sure, but I’ll need to get my guitar.”
“I saw Esther and Thomas out there earlier. Maybe one of them can pick it up for you if you don’t mind them going into your room at The Dragonfly?”
“Good idea.” I don’t fancy rushing to and from the B&B, then going straight on stage while I’m all sweaty.
I turn to leave, but Austin stops me with a question.
“Why are you helping me?” At my raised eyebrows, he clears his throat, running a hand over his short beard, looking almost bashful.
“Believe me, I’m grateful you are, but I’ve been…
well, I’ve been a grouchy dickhead. Nobody would blame you for wanting to see me taken down a peg. ”
I snort. “You’ve been stressed about the reopening, I get that. Do I love that you took some of that stress out on me? No, but you’ve helped me too.” Our eyes meet, my admission and the reminder of last night hanging between us.
Swallowing hard, I look away first, doing my best to appear unbothered. “Tonight is obviously important to you, and no matter how frustrating you can be, I don’t want to see you fail. Just don’t expect me to bring the same atmosphere a band would. Oh, and I don’t take requests.”
“Got it, and play whatever you want, although if you’d like to add in a couple of crowd-pleasers, a fair amount of people around here have got into country music since the festival started.” He holds his hands up. “No pressure though.”
“Thanks for the tip. If you don’t need anything else, I’m going to see if Esther minds fetching my guitar.”
Performing tonight is the opposite of remaining inconspicuous, but what’s the point in having my freedom if I can’t use it to step up and help someone who helped me?
The risk of someone recognising me is there, but who would expect to find Melody Night signing at a bar in the middle of nowhere?
Even if someone thinks I sound like Melody, I look completely different with my dark hair, glasses, and work clothes.
The only guaranteed outcome is that if I don’t perform, Austin’s grand reopening will be ruined.
Despite his gruff, taciturn nature, Austin took a chance on me.
No matter what Liam said, I’m not completely out of touch with the world.
I know my vague answers and desire to be paid in cash made me seem sketchy as fuck, but Austin hired me anyway.
He was there for me when I needed someone in my corner.
Now it’s time for me to return the favour.
“Cassie?”
I pause in the doorway. What now?
“Thank you.”
The overhead light catches in his copper hair, and his grateful smile softens the hard angles of his face in a way that catches me off guard.
He really is unfairly handsome in a rugged sort of way.
Nope. Those kinds of thoughts about Austin have bad idea written all over them, even if he has shown he’s more than the demanding grump I first met.
“No problem, boss.” I wave, then dart out of the office. A wave, really? Who knew leaving my entire life behind meant saying goodbye to all my social skills as well?
Back on the floor, I find Esther and Thomas who are beyond excited to learn I’ll be playing tonight.
They readily agree to fetch my guitar, and I promise to save their table for them.
Glad that’s sorted, I nip behind the bar while they gather their coats and snag one of the ‘reserved’ signs from under the till.
“Austin said no reservations tonight.” Molly stands with her hands on her hips, blocking my way out from behind the bar.
“Trust me, he’ll approve this one. Excuse me,” I say, pointedly looking between her and the route she’s blocking. She doesn’t move.
“You can’t just do whatever you want.”
Deep breaths. Do not let her get to you.
“Look, I don’t have time for whatever this is.
Please move so I can get back to work.” I glance over at her section to see a group trying to catch her attention.
“Looks like you don’t have time either—they’re calling you over.
” Using Molly’s distraction to my advantage, I brush past her and hurry over to place the reserved sign on Esther and Thomas’s table so it’s still free once they return with my guitar.
Austin won’t mind—they’re doing us both a solid.
The least we can do is save their seats.
Twenty minutes later, I hover in Austin’s office, tuning my guitar and wondering if this whole thing is a mistake.
Who am I kidding? I know it’s a mistake, but I’m doing it anyway.
All because I can’t stand by and do nothing when I know how much tonight means to Austin.
I might not like that he’s taken his stress out on me but, given the circumstances, I can understand.
After all, I’m handling my stress by running away and hiding my identity—I’m hardly in any position to judge.
Plus, accident or not, I did crash into his bar.
Besides, this night is important to Abby too.
She may have handed control of Bowman’s over to Austin, but it’s still their family’s business and she’s been nothing but kind to me since I arrived.
Pacing, I shake out my hands as if that will somehow expel the jitters from my body.
The desk and small couch take up most of the office space, but I could still wear a groove in the floorboards before it’s time for my set to begin.
I haven’t been this nervous to take the stage since my first arena performance.
The chances of anyone recognising me are slim.
I look nothing like my usual self, and it’s not like I’ll sing any of my own songs.
Well, not Melody’s stuff at least. If it feels appropriate, I might play one of the many songs I’ve written that don’t fit my brand.
After all, this could be my only chance to find out how an audience responds to them.
Mostly, I’ll do covers of popular songs like I used to do when I was first starting out.
The only thing linking me to Melody Night is the glittery silver guitar strap across my body, since it’s more ‘her’ style than mine, but it’s something anyone could have.
Everything’s fine. Nobody is going to recognise me.