Nick #3
Somewhere between write this down and take a little note, I curse at myself.
Their dancing is pretty terrible. Hal misses a step, nearly taking them both down as she trips over his tipsy two left feet.
Even though she’s quite a bit shorter, Leah steadies them both, and they eventually find the beat.
Moments later, she squeals as they stumble their way through his attempt at a twirl.
Leah's cheeks are flushed pink, her smile bright enough to rival the neon signs glowing behind her. Every time she throws her head back and laughs, the whole room seems to tilt toward her, a luminous joy that’s impossible to ignore.
And that's the problem: I can't seem to look anywhere else.
As the song comes to an end, they're both out of breath, sharing in newfound inside jokes. Wisps of espresso-colored hair have escaped her braid, curling around her temples and catching against her flushed cheeks.
The urge to reach over and tuck one behind her ear hits me out of nowhere.
But I don’t. Instead, I sit here like an idiot, wondering what she'd look like with all that hair falling over her shoulders.
“Whew … that was fun.” She slips back behind the bar. “You missed out, cowboy.”
Don’t I know it.
“Thanks for the dance, sweetheart,” Hal says with a slur to his voice. “I better head out for the evening.”
Leah’s face falls. “Now Mr. Hal, you can’t leave just yet.” She grabs a water bottle from the walk-in fridge. “Why don’t you take a seat. Get some water in ya.”
“Oh, no no.” He pulls out his keys. “I better get home before I turn into a pumpkin.”
Leah flashes me a concerned look. “Sir, I really need you to stay.”
“Are you wanting another dance, sweetheart?” He winks before patting me on the shoulder. “Old man’s still got it, huh, Doc?”
“C’mon.” She taps the bar in front of an empty stool. “Take a seat—”
“Another night, sweetheart.” He pulls out his car keys. “I’ve got to go—”
“How about—” I grab his keys—“I call you a drive share? It’s coming down pretty badly out there.”
“Oh … goddamn, is it still raining?”
“Yes, sir.” I cordially chuckle. “C’mon. Let’s call you someone, and I’ll wait with you.”
My eyes meet Leah’s as she mouths the words thank you.
With a quick nod, I escort Hal to say goodnight to Skye before heading outside. Ten minutes later, a rideshare pulls into the parking lot. Helping Hal into the backseat, I shut the door before watching the taillights disappear into the rain.
Ambling back inside, I shake off the rain droplets and smooth out my damp hair. Approaching the bar, Leah greets me with a crooked smile. A thoughtful hum escapes her as she tosses Hal's empty bottles into the trash.
“What’s that for?”
“What’s what for?”
“That hrmm.”
She chuckles, spinning around and nodding at my hair. “You better be careful there, cowboy. I can see your halo peeking out.”
I chuff. “One good deed doesn’t exactly qualify me for sainthood.”
She leans against the bar. “One bad deed doesn’t exactly make you the devil.”
“Yeah … maybe.”
That’s just it, though. It’s never just one poor choice.
It’s a domino effect that leads to more mistakes, some that aren't easily forgotten—and they shouldn’t be, not when they’ve left so much wreckage behind, not when they’ve wounded and changed other people.
Those sins can’t be undone with an apology and good intentions.
The conversation drifts into a comfortable lull.
Low Places isn’t closed for the night, but I’m the last customer here.
Leah tidies up the place, wiping down tables, restocking napkins, and lining bottles back into their proper places behind the bar.
Every so often, she pauses to jot something down on an inventory sheet before moving on to the next task.
“Hey, fresh meat …” Skye calls out. “Where are we on our closing checklist?”
Leah shows her a clipboard that contains a list of jobs that need to be performed every night before closing up the bar.
Skye hums approval. “Fuck, you’re good. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m gonna cut ya early. There’s no point in keeping you here another hour … unless you want the extra cash.”
Leah shakes her head. “That’s fine.”
“Cool. Cowboy Ken? Can you walk her out?”
Already planning on it. I nod.
Leah grabs her purse, a blush creeping across her cheeks. “Thank you.”
We step outside, the rain lighter, but still a constant pour.
I open up my umbrella, before offering her my arm.
She stares at me a beat before taking it, tucking herself close to my side.
And my God, her hair … even after hours of working in a place that reeks of barley and vomit, it’s something sweet and gentle, like a flower.
And suddenly, I need an entire garden of this scent.
We make it to her Corolla, and I help her inside, keeping her dry.
My fingers linger across her arm, her soft skin intoxicating.
I cup her elbow, her eyes meeting mine. Somewhere in the silence, a magnetism grows between us.
I can’t help myself as I slowly lower myself closer to her.
She nips at her bottom lip, her eyes bouncing down to my mouth, a silent invitation for a kiss.
But I don’t want just a kiss. I want more. I want to taste her. I want to relish every part of her body. I want her laughter to turn into moans—into screams.
Fuck. What am I doing?