Chapter 17
Sutton
“Look who it is. Wasn’t sure if you were going to show.” Lee Powell meets me halfway to the table and claps me on the shoulder. “Quite the place, huh?”
The loud music nearly swallows his shout.
I bounce my gaze around the establishment.
Everything looks brand new. The silver chairs shine.
The square wooden tables are free of gouges.
The lacquer fresh. The art decorating the walls seems more suited to a bar in Texas than to this small town in Minnesota, but I can admit it lends to the country-western vibe.
The pictures depict rodeos and horses, none of which I know anything about.
There are also ropes and horseshoes adorning the rustic barnwood walls.
“It’s something.”
“Feels like we stepped foot in Nashville.”
“We sure aren’t in Minnesota anymore.”
Lee smiles, something that comes more easily to him in the years since he found his wife. He dedicated his life to running his dog sanctuary, just as I’ve been dedicated to law enforcement. Except he met Juniper one summer, and the rest was history, and I’m solidly alone.
“Come on. We’ve got a table this way.”
The novelty of the place summons a sizable crowd. Can’t say The Rocks, our local spot in Fairview Valley, has ever had this many people in it. He leads me through a maze of tables to one filled with familiar people.
Various greetings are heard above the din. I drop into a seat between Lee and my brother Silas.
“When did you get here?” I ask my youngest sibling.
He passes me over a fresh beer. “Half an hour ago. You didn’t give me a solid answer at work yesterday, so I didn’t want to wait for you to bail.”
His instinct wasn’t wrong. I’ve been a bit of a grizzly since the night I snapped at Alice, and a part of me wanted to sit home tonight and lick my wounds.
A larger part than I care to admit.
But then I remembered she asked for the night off so she could come out this way with her girls, and that was all the shove I needed to get my ass up and drop Nellie off for an impromptu sleepover at my mom’s.
“I’m getting old. It’s harder to get out.” I cover my lie with a bitter mouthful.
“We’re all fucking old,” Spencer quips from across the table.
Chuckles arise from his remark, and I flit my gaze through what amounts to my brothers.
Lee and I are the same age and went through high school together.
The mid-forties don’t look too bad on either of us, though I have a bit more gray in my hair.
Spencer would be next at forty-two. He’s barely older than the twins, Jack and Jude Powell.
Then there’s Corjan sitting on the other side of Silas.
Those two are about the same age. Late thirties.
The youngest of both families is Aiden. Even in his mid-thirties, he’s still considered the baby, and we tease him about it relentlessly despite the fact that he now has a wife and a child of his own.
“Speak for yourself. I’m still pretty youthful,” Aiden chimes in.
“I thought the same when I was your age. Then I started waking up with back pain,” Jude says.
I lift my beer in a salute. “Where are all your wives? I expected at least one to be pregnant or hanging around.”
Heads turn in comical unison toward the back of the room.
“Ah. I was wondering where that thing was,” I say.
That thing refers to the massive dance floor where a small crowd is line dancing, nearly half of whom are Powell women.
Bodies move in synchronicity beneath colorful spotlights.
It’s like watching the Electric Slide at a wedding reception, except more modern, and most of the people appear to be under retirement age.
“How long have they been out there?” I ask the table at large.
“Since we got here.” Jack flags down a passing server and gestures for another round for the table. She nods and scurries off to the bar.
“Did they all just know how to do that?” I pick out Frankie, Jude’s wife, by her nearly white-blond hair. Beside her is Bree, who belongs to Corjan. They laugh as they stomp their boots and turn a quarter turn.
“They’ve been practicing,” Lee says.
I scrutinize his grin for half a second. “I take it that’s been enjoyable for you.”
“Juniper looks really good in a pair of denim cutoffs, and she knows it too.”
A smile tilts the corners of my lips. “Good for you, buddy.”
“You didn’t know?” Jack directs his question at me.
I pause with my beer halfway to my mouth. “How would I know what all your wives are up to?”
“Alice is your nanny, and you haven’t seen her line dance?” He keeps on.
“Should I have?” The bottle still hovers in midair.
“I’d think so, considering she’s the one who’s been teaching them.” Silas nudges my side with his elbow.
“Have you seen her line dance?”
Silas’s look is entirely perfected by years of being the meddling youngest child. “Of course.”
Finally, the beer bottle reaches my lips.
Not so much to drink. Rather, it’s a way to hide my shock.
Awareness slithers up my spine. Taunting me.
Telling me if I’d just turn back around, I could see my nanny tearing up the dance floor like she owns the place.
Moving her body in ways I have no business witnessing.
“Isla helped some. Said she missed dancing. She picked it up quick.” Aiden tosses a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“Does she plan to go back?” Corjan asks.
“She’s happy being home with John right now, and after the whole ordeal, I don’t think she has any plans to return to her former boss. But she misses dancing, so who knows.”
Isla worked as an exotic dancer until a deranged client kidnapped her. If she were my woman, I’d want to tell her she could never return.
One thing about the Powell women is that nobody tells them what to do. Not even their husbands.
Thank god I’m single. And my last name isn’t Powell.
The conversation lapses, mainly because these guys are too busy watching their wives get down to Ed Sheeran’s “Shiver.”
“Want to watch me dance?” Silas waggles his eyebrows at me. “I even put on my cowboy boots.” He kicks a foot out, showcasing the brown leather beneath his blue jeans.
“I’m sure you have enough of an audience without me watching you shake your ass.”
Silas searches my face. “You’re the only single one here. Just thought I’d give you something to look at.”
“Who do you have?” I grunt bitterly.
He shrugs. “Nobody. Yet. I don’t think it’ll be too hard to catch someone’s attention.”
I incline my head toward the back of the room. “That easy, huh?”
“Well, I’m not as pretty as your nanny, but she seems to be doing a fine job getting some for herself. I thought I’d give it a try.”
My spine snaps straight, and my neck turns so quick I give myself whiplash.
I scan the crowd, passing over familiar faces. Cortney, Isla, Frankie, Bree, Whitney, Juniper. Where the hell is she?
There.
That’s why I didn’t see her before. She’s away from the group. From here, it looks like she’s leading. It’s not until a rodeo-looking fucker stops at her side and looks down at their feet that I realize she’s not leading.
She’s teaching.
She’s bouncing on her heels, slowing down the steps. Trying to walk this moron through a simple two-step.
The next second, his hand is on her waist, entirely too close to the swell of her ass. He leans down low to speak directly in her ear.
Steam billows from my ears. I bite into my thumbnail. I’m pretty sure I growl beneath the upbeat music and nearly choke on my next swallow through a thick throat.
Why does he have to put his fuckin’ hands on her?
I steam, and stew, and flag down the server for another beer. The song changes. Suddenly, it’s no longer Ed Sheeran. “A Bar Song” by Shaboozy takes its place to raucous cheers.
“I’m not drunk enough for this,” I mutter. Not that I ever let myself get drunk, but suddenly, my mood is sour. Maybe alcohol is the cure.
“You should get out there,” Silas says, clapping my shoulder. “Looks like fun.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” he shrugs, pushing out his chair. The screech of legs against the tile floor grates on my nerves.
Several of the other guys follow suit and stand. Aiden. Corjan. Looks like the younger guys still have it in them.
Fucking hell.
“You gonna tell us what she did to piss you off?” Spencer asks once they vacate.
“Who?” I miss my mouth turning toward him and dump a splash of beer onto my lap.
“Your nanny,” Jude grumbles as if I’m fucking dumb.
“She didn’t do anything. If anything, I’m the asshole here.”
“Nothing new,” Lee gives my shoulder a brotherly pat. “What happened?”
“What’s with all the fuckin’ questions?” I snap.
Lee leans in close. “Well, I don’t know about my brothers, but I’d like to ascertain whether your broody-ass mood is going to ruin my girl’s night.”
Around the table, everyone nods.
My nostrils flare, and I let out a deep sigh. “You all can relax. I’m not going to ruin anything. She won’t even talk to me.”
The last few days have sucked, to say the least. Alice has been showing up in the morning right when I need to leave, and she’s packed and ready to go with her cactus in hand the moment I return after work.
Doesn’t matter the time. She leaves her things by the door like a goddamn natural disaster prepper solely to avoid talking to me.
“That’s a relief because she’s coming this way with her new friend.”
New friend?
My stomach drops clear to my toes. An insidious band tightens around my chest. Every muscle in my body clenches tight as I freeze in anticipatory hell.
Frankie appears first around my shoulder. She circles the table and drops right into Jude’s lap. Cortney follows on her heels and slides into the empty chair beside Spencer, placing a gentle kiss on his scarred face.
“We’re here for a quick break.” Frankie pulls the pitcher of ice water her way and tops off her glass. “Line dancing is fun, but holy shit, I’m tired.”