Chapter 19
19
T hey dipped into the next bar with mind-numbing music, and again, his girls were nowhere in sight. Dean’s spirits plummeted, his fear spiraling out of control.
Out on the sidewalk, the loudspeakers of every bar down the street created a cacophony that blasted through his brain. “I never could stand this level of music even when I was young.”
Greer nodded agreement.
On the other side of the street, Bernice and Ralph stepped out of yet another bar, shaking their heads when they saw him, then moving on.
In the fourth bar, Dean wished he had earplugs as they cruised the tables, the dance floor, even the restrooms. After several more bars with no results, he pulled out his wallet and started showing the bartenders a picture of his girls. But everyone he asked shook their heads.
His blood pressure was rising, the ache behind his eyeballs pounding, and a fist clenched tight around his heart. Down a side street, music and people poured out of another cantina.
Greer tugged his hand. “Let’s try there. Maybe they went on to this one because it’s a little less crowded than those on the street and a little less noisy.” Though there was still plenty of the action they would crave.
“Sounds good.” His ears were grateful for the lower decibel level.
How many bars had they walked into? How many cantinas had they searched?
He didn’t know anymore. And he didn’t dare look at his watch, not wanting to know how much time had passed since Lisa and Cynthia had walked away from their cousins.
He gazed into the crowded bar, almost all the occupants young, drinking, laughing, some dancing in the street, which probably meant a packed dance floor. Inside he stopped at the first table teeming with college-age girls, held up his wallet, picture displayed. “Have any of you seen these girls?” One of the young women answered in an American accent, “They’re just having fun somewhere, Granddad, so why don’t you leave them alone?”
It was useless asking anyone here. They were all young and invincible and couldn’t see the danger.
Greer pulled him aside. “It’s more packed and louder than I thought from outside, but let’s ask at the bar.” She had to shout in his ear.
Taking his wallet from him, she leaned over the bar, holding it out to the bartender, who looked from her to the picture, then Dean, and shook his head.
They sidled through the crowd, looking over the tables. The place was dark, paneled with some deeply colored wood that absorbed the light. Strobes flashed over the dance floor, and people gyrated to a rap song. Half-finished drinks littered the small tables, with young tourists laughing, drinking, shouting. He didn’t see his girls on the dance floor, and he went back with Greer to check the bathrooms. He didn’t dare leave her alone, afraid he’d lose her in the melee.
She left the women’s room shaking her head and Dean shouted, “Okay, let’s check the next place.”
As they headed back out, Greer suddenly jerked his arm, pulling him down until his ear was at her mouth. “Over there. They just sat down.”
When he glanced at the table she pointed to, he couldn’t tell whether his heart was hammering with relief or anger.
Five boys—obviously frat brothers with their short hair, stubbled chins, and overpriced T-shirts— almost obscured Lisa and Cynthia, surrounded by beer bottles and the remnants of what could have been fruity concoctions for the girls. His girls.
He moved, a giant step, but Greer pulled him back. She had to shout to make him hear. “You can’t just go over there and drag them out. It’ll only make them angry. Yelling at them won’t do any good, and trying to throw them into a cab will make things worse.”
His teeth ground loudly in his head. “Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”
She pushed him toward a barely open spot at the bar. “You wait there. I’ll talk to them.”
He let out a raspy sound that hurt his throat. “I can’t let you do that. It’s dangerous.”
She laughed at him, actually laughed, and he was afraid he’d turn into a raging bull. How the hell could she laugh? Words stormed through his mind, wanting to hurl themselves at her.
But with her hand on his arm, she said, “You’re watching me. You’re watching them. Nothing will happen with you looking out for us.”
He swallowed hard. She made it sound like he was a hero. Which he certainly wasn’t.
Yet he saw the sense in what she said. If he stalked over the way he wanted to, he’d never get them to leave, and the relationship he so badly wanted to build would go down the dumper. And she was right that here in this bar, with him watching on while she did the talking, they were safe for now. The frat boys wouldn’t do anything with his eagle eye on them. The danger was in getting the girls drunk and outside and into a cab where they’d be defenseless.
Not on his watch.
“Text Bernice that we’ve found them, then order a beer for yourself and a margarita for me,” she told him. “Because we’re not leaving here until they do. I promise you.”
And he had to let her go.
Greer pushed through the crowded tables. When she finally stood over them, the girls didn’t even notice she was there. But the frat boys, on a Mexican vacation during a semester break, looked at her. She grabbed a vacant chair from another table and squeezed in beside the girls at the table cluttered with glasses and beer bottles.
One boy spoke, though Greer couldn’t hear. Both Cynthia and Lisa looked at her with horrified expressions, wide eyes, slack mouths, and flared nostrils.
Lisa was the first to speak. “What are you doing here?”
A blond-haired young man shouted over her. “Is that your totally cougar mom?”
Greer didn’t have time to appreciate being called a cougar.
Lisa said, with a sneer in her voice, “She’s not our mom. She’s just dating our dad.”
Greer felt the slap and turned the other cheek. It would have been easier if they didn’t have to shout, if the music didn’t blast so loudly, and the voices surrounding them weren’t so shrill. But she pressed on. “I’m here because your cousin Jenny called Bernice and said the two of you had gone off on your own.”
Lisa snorted. “That little tattletale.”
Greer had to smile at the word she would have used when she was young. “Jenny was just worried about you. She and the other kids even went out to search for you.”
Lisa and Cynthia exchanged an unreadable look. “Just wait till we get hold of that little snitch,” but there was more levity in Cynthia’s voice than there’d been in Lisa’s.
She’d already gathered that Lisa had a much bigger beef with her dad.
Greer hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “Your dad’s at the bar.”
Lisa craned to see. “Right. So he’s planning to drag us out of here after you butter us up.”
Greer remained calm in the face of Lisa’s animosity. “He just wants to make sure you’re safe.” She looked over the boys seated at the table, all early twenties, handsome and smug, and decided not to spare their feelings, even if she had to shout to be heard.
“Here’s what worries me ,” she stressed. “Remember Natalee Holloway who disappeared on Aruba? Then they found her dead.”
The boys actually sat back. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was wariness, but they eyed her now with trepidation.
Or maybe that was admiration.
But Lisa scoffed. “Oh my God, that was so many freaking years ago.” She jutted her chin at the frat boys. “And we’re not dumb enough to go off anywhere with these guys.”
The guys, speaking almost in unison, said, “Yeah, yeah, we’re totally safe.”
Greer ignored the protests. “Yet here you are, just the two of you with the five of them.” She leaned forward to point at the empty glasses and the two half-full ones. “Have you been out dancing? Did you leave your drinks unattended?”
Dean’s daughters looked at each other. Then Cynthia said, “I took my margarita onto the dance floor with me.”
Lisa added quickly, “I did too.”
The blond boy who’d called Greer a cougar said, “Look, ma’am, really, we’re safe. We’d never put anything in their drinks.”
She didn’t know if it was a good sign or a bad one that none of the guys grew angry at her insinuation.
But she stared them down. “You probably are safe. But they don’t know you. And I don’t know you.” She swept her hand over them, then looked at Lisa and Cynthia again. “I might not be a mom. But if you were my daughters, I’d be terrified you’re out alone in a strange city with a bunch of guys you’ve never met before. Or even ones you know. I was fine when you went out with your cousins. But you left them. And that’s just not a safe bet.”
She steadied a long, serious gaze on them, such pretty young women, their looks so like their father’s. And so vulnerable. They shifted under her stare, exchanged another look, then, as if they’d shared a mind meld, their eyes rested on the five fraternity brothers.
Then she said the last thing she’d planned. Even though Dean might very well blow a gasket and never speak to her again. “I’d really prefer if you didn’t terrify me or your dad and that you left with us right now. But I also understand you want to have fun. So here’s the deal.” She pushed beer bottles out of the way and leaned her elbows on the sticky table. “I’ll go back to the bar and have a drink with your dad. And you can stay here as long as you want. He and I will buy your drinks and keep an eye on them, and when you’re ready to go back to the hotel, you can come with us in a cab.”
The two girls stared at her, saying nothing. The music vibrated through Greer’s head and down into her chest.
Then Cougar Mom Guy said, “We promise we’ll get them back safely.”
She smiled at him, sweetly but menacingly. “I don’t think so.”
Cynthia cocked her head. “You mean you and Dad will stay, even if we’re here till the bar closes?”
Greer nodded.
Lisa asked, “What if we want to go to another bar?”
“You’re adults. You can go to another bar.” She tipped her chin at the frat boys. “You can even go with these guys. They look like very nice preppy boys. But—” She held up a finger. “We’ll just follow along to keep an eye out for you.”
The redheaded guy mouthed, “Je-sus,” punctuating with an abrupt nod of his head.
Greer stood, looked at Dean by the bar, then leaned one hand on the table. “We’re perfectly willing to wait until you’re ready.”
The girls exchanged another long, meaningful look. And finally, Cynthia said, “Okay.”
Lisa added, “But don’t come over to our table. And don’t let Dad come over here either.”
“Our only concern is your safety.” Greer smiled. “We’ll send over some bottles of water too. You don’t want to have a terrible hangover tomorrow.”
Then she headed back to Dean, prepared for his inevitable explosion.
Greer’s beautiful smile dazzled him now that his terror was draining away.
He leaned close to shout in her ear. “What did you say to them?” He’d watched. He’d fumed. He’d almost rushed the table.
But he saw no argument over there, heard no shouting other than what was necessary over the din in the place.
“I told them they could stay as long as we bought their drinks and stayed to watch out for them.” She watched him almost warily. As if he was the lion instead of Meow Man.
He almost couldn’t believe what she’d done. And yet… “Did they agree?”
She nodded. “I also said that if they went to go to another bar, we’d go with them.”
He’d have dragged them out by their ponytails. He’d have shouted, even raged. But Greer was pure genius.
She poked him in the chest. “But you’re not allowed to go over there.”
He stared at her for a long, sweet moment. Then he wrapped his hand around her nape and pulled her in for a kiss. A long, lingering, delicious, openmouthed kiss he’d craved all night.
“You’re not mad?” she asked when he let her go.
Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, close enough that she couldn’t mistake his words, “I’m not mad. And you’re brilliant.” He breathed her in. “Thank you.”
“And you should order a round of drinks and bottled water for them.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re incredible.”
They stayed another twenty minutes while the girls danced and the waitress delivered a tray of beer bottles, margaritas, and water. The blond guy lifted a bottle, saluted Greer, then took a long swallow.
“I really don’t think those boys are bad,” Greer said, her head tipped as if she were truly considering the table of young men.
“They’re frat boys. They can’t be trusted.”
She laughed, putting a hand on his chest. “You’re the father of two girls. Of course you’d think that.” Then she added, “But I’m glad they’re safe.”
Putting his hand over hers, he held her palm tight to him, tight enough to feel the beating of his heart. “Thank you for coming with me. Because you’re absolutely right, I would have made a mess of it all on my own.”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “But I’m not a parent, so I saw a different way to handle it.”
He held up his phone. “I texted Bernice. God knows I couldn’t have called her in all this noise. I said we had the girls covered, and she and Ralph are heading back to the hotel. She got a text from Jenny that the kids are back there, too, and they’re all fine.”
“Good.” She sipped her water, then rewarded herself with a taste of margarita. “Thank you. This is delicious.”
He sighed, blinked, thought of the lost time. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
Shaking his head sadly, he said, “I had a completely different scenario in mind. Something that didn’t involve traipsing through bars that are so loud even my eyeballs hurt.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, and he felt… sublime.
“This is much better,” she said. “Because the girls are safe and we don’t have to worry.”
When she straightened, he ran a thumb across her lips, her warm eyes golden in the low lighting, focused on him. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “Tomorrow night, I swear it.”
Their glasses were almost empty when the girls stood, and Cynthia gave Dean a barely there wave.
He didn’t enjoy following them. It made him feel like a control freak. He just wanted to get them back to the hotel and back to safety.
But he followed Greer’s lead. She’d worked a miracle. The girls hadn’t ditched him. And this was better than dragging them to a taxi, which they would probably never forgive him for.
“I guess they’re going to another bar.” He and Greer trailed several paces behind the group along the packed sidewalk, and Dean was glad that two frat boys were fairly tall so he could see them above the crowd.
Greer squeezed his hand. “You’re being a very good dad, keeping them safe, but not interfering since they are women, not girls.”
“I wish they were ten years old again and I could tell them what to do.”
Her laughter drifted over him in the balmy night air, even bringing him a modicum of calm. “They all have to grow up.”
The crew ducked into another cantina screaming cacophonous music to the outside. Maybe it was getting late for some tourists who’d headed back to their hotels, because he was able to grab an empty table while his daughters and the frat boys sat close to the dance floor.
After holding out a chair for Greer, he bent close, trying not to shatter her eardrums with a shout. “I’ll get the drinks. What do you want?”
She smiled up at him, and he felt the punch of that smile all the way to his gut. “Another margarita, please.”
Christ, how he wished the evening had ended differently. Instead of tracking his girls from bar to bar, he’d rather be teasing Greer, tasting her, kissing her, making her come.
But at least Cynthia and Lisa were safe.
He headed to the bar, ordering a Mexican beer for himself and margaritas for Greer and the girls. No way was he letting those boys buy his girls doctored drinks. Then he added five bottles of beer to the order.
The blond frat boy muscled into the space next to him, and Dean glared a warning.
“I swear, sir,” the kid said, “They’re safe with us. They even told me to get water too.”
Dean smiled grimly. “Good. I’ve ordered margaritas for them. And beers for you lot.”
“Thank you, sir. That’s awfully nice of you.” Was the kid being obsequious? Or was he just naturally deferential?
Dean gestured eyeball-to-eyeball, wanting to laugh at his drama. He wasn’t sure, but the blond kid might have shuddered. When the drinks arrived, he waited until the frat boy had everything on a tray, making sure nothing went into those glasses but what he’d ordered.
Then he carried his own drinks back to the table where Greer waited for him.
She lifted her glass, saluting him. “Thank you.” He tapped his beer bottle to her salted margarita glass. Sipping as much water as he did beer, he didn’t feel any effects of the alcohol, and his head was clear when the girls got up to dance.
Greer gestured with her chin. “I’m glad to see they’re taking their glasses with them.”
“What about the water?” he grumbled. Three boys joined Cynthia and Lisa on the dance floor while Blondie and the redheaded kid stayed behind. Dean shot them a death glare to make sure they knew he was watching.
It was almost a game now. The frat boys wouldn’t do anything, not with him watching. And he agreed with Greer; they might not be a bad lot. The music pounded through the cantina but somehow didn’t seem so bad now that his initial fear had bled out of him.
Greer stood, leaving her shawl on the chair, and held out her hand. “Let’s dance.”
“You’ve got to be kidding?” He waved his hand over the table. “What about our drinks?”
Picking up her glass, she took another long swallow. “Mine’s almost gone. And I’ll buy another round when we get back.”
“And I’ll exchange the water bottles at that table.” He stabbed his fingers at the two boys still seated.
She laughed and leaned down. “Don’t be a fun sponge,” she said, just like his mother.
Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around this gorgeous woman, nothing more than to feel her body against his as they swayed to the music. And he followed her onto the dance floor.
Maybe he would have followed her anywhere.