Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aiden
K atie was a little tipsy, and it looked good on her.
I’d told myself I would leave right after dinner.
Instead, I found myself watching Katie. Again.
Damn it. After dinner, we’d moved to the lounge.
Katie stood at the bar, chatting with Jane, our waitress, who had often hung out with her and Daisy when they were kids.
She scampered back and dropped into her chair.
“Oh, my goodness, did you know that Jane married Michael? They have a set of twelve-year-old twins.” She paused to look up at the ceiling, her fingers twitching.
“Wait; I don’t think the math on that works.
” She turned back around to look at Jane, a mischievous grin on her face.
“Why, that little hussy. And with Michael.” She leaned forward to take Pops and me into her confidence.
“He was my first kiss,” she whispered. “Ah, well. C’est la vie .
” She leaned back. “So, who else got knocked up in high school?”
Pops stood, chuckling. “You’d have to ask this one,” he said, pointing to me. “I prefer to believe everyone is pure as the driven snow when they get married.” He winked at Katie. “Including his grandmother and myself.”
“Thanks, Pops. That’s a thought I really needed floating around in my head.” I fake shuddered.
“Then my work here is done and it’s time for me to go home.”
Katie immediately deflated. “Oh, Connor, don’t go.
” She stood and wrapped her arms around him, her chin on his chest, looking up.
I don’t know how Pops could resist those bright green eyes.
I couldn’t imagine ever saying no to her if she looked at me that way.
“I’ll be your wingman,” she said. “Get you hooked up tonight.”
He leaned down and kissed her forehead, giving her a quick squeeze. He held her tight, his voice just a murmur in the crowd. “Katie, I have a feeling there isn’t much you couldn’t talk me into, but I’m an old man and tired, so I want to go home.”
Blinking and looking thoroughly confused, Katie finally said, “Oh.”
She reached under the table, picked up a tiny handbag, and secured the strap across her body. “Okay, let’s go.”
Pops held on to one arm and shook his head. “No you don’t. You’ve had too many cocktails. Aiden”—he looked at me and I nodded—“is driving you home tonight. I don’t want the proprietor of the newest eating establishment in Bar Harbor getting into any accidents, all right?”
She held up two fingers in a faulty Girl Scout salute.
“I promise to be completely sober before I touch my car keys. I’m switching to water right now.
Aiden can make me walk a straight line and touch my nose.
” She dropped her hand to the side, went up on tiptoe and kissed Pops on the cheek. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
“Ah, Katie, if I were only a younger man, I’d snatch you up and put you in my pocket.” He turned and nodded at someone I couldn’t see across the room. “Phil’s going to run me home. He was here having dinner with his daughter and son-in-law,” he explained.
Pops said his goodbyes and left. Katie immediately tensed up. I felt like a complete shit for having this effect on her. “Come on. Dance with me.” Her eyes were big and bright, shining with confusion and not a little reticence.
“Oh, well, it’s just that?—”
I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the small dance floor.
They were playing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” which seemed appropriate considering that’s what Katie was driving me.
She was so damn nervous and uncomfortable, I couldn’t help but pull her in tight.
I rubbed her back, trying to get her to settle, but she felt a little too good, so I stopped.
I cleared my throat. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been sending mixed signals, kissing you and then taking off. I’m dealing with my own shit, and not very well. I didn’t mean to drag you into it.”
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “I see.”
Did I explain that wrong? “I like you, Katie, and I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick. I’ve been thinking that maybe we should try to be friends.” At her raised eyebrows, I continued, “Yes. I know most friends don’t make out, but maybe we should. You know, kind of a friends-with-benefits deal.”
When she reared back, I pulled her in close again. “I knew you wouldn’t go for that.” I sighed.
We were drawing some attention. I could feel all the town gossips trying to figure out what was going on. I didn’t want to be grist for the mill, but the idea of letting her go and sitting back down definitely didn’t appeal, either.
She glanced around the room, stiff in my arms. “We seem to have an audience, Aiden.”
I slid my thumb back and forth over her ribs. “Ignore them.” It was an almost imperceptible move, but I watched her eyes dilate.
“What?” she said breathlessly.
I lowered my face closer to hers. “Having trouble concentrating?”
Her eyes were trained on my lips, and then she blinked, her gaze turning calculating. “Not at all. I think people might just be worried about your subpar dancing skills.”
I groaned quietly as I pulled her in closer, her chest pressed against my own. “Maybe. Or maybe people are just concerned I’ll strain my neck, dancing with a pixie.”
She leaned back, casting an assessing glance over her shoulder. “That’s what they’re saying, are they?” I could tell she was plotting. “Is this better for you, then?” she asked as she stepped up on my shoes.
I’m sure she thought she was causing severe toe pain, but as I was wearing my steel-toed work shoes and she was no bigger than a minute, all she did was make me work a little harder to lift my legs.
When I didn’t grimace in pain, I felt her concentrate all her weight on the balls of her feet, resulting in a not unpleasant pressure and the unintended benefit of bringing her face closer to mine.
She clung to me to keep her balance. My hands spread across her back, desperate to slide lower.
She swayed toward me, my eyes starting to close in response to the kiss I was readying for.
Instead, she blinked slowly and then jumped back off my feet.
“I’m going”—she floundered, gesturing vaguely—“over there. I need to do something.”
Eyes narrowed, I watched her and that almost kiss back away. “You have fun. Over there.”
She spun and ran directly into Jane.
“Oof. Whoa, you okay there?” At Kate’s nod, Jane continued, “Are you guys ready for another round?” Jane waited, blond hair tied up and serving tray at her hip.
“Oh, God, no.” Katie glanced over at me and winced. “Water would be great, though. Thank you, Jane.”
“Katie, it’s karaoke night. Will you sing?” Jane asked.
I turned sharply to Katie. I didn’t know she sang. Her fair, Irish skin did nothing to hide the blush coloring her cheeks as she madly shook her head.
In the middle of Katie’s panic attack, Jane noticed my surprise. “Aiden, haven’t you ever heard Katie sing? Oh, you’re in for a treat.” Then she grabbed Katie’s hand and pulled her toward the makeshift stage in the corner of the lounge.
With a hand firmly on her long-lost friend, Jane spoke into the mic.
“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to Galyn’s karaoke night.
If you’d like to try your hand at it, speak with Greg at the bar.
He can sign you up. Now, some of you might remember Nellie Gallagher’s granddaughter, Katie, from when she’d visit here in the summers.
” She raised their joined hands up high.
“Well, here she is, come back to live with us. You might recall that flaming, curly hair of hers, or perhaps you remember her sharp tongue. Others may still be in awe of her legendary parade-float scandals.” If possible, Katie’s blush deepened.
“But what I remember best about Katie is a voice that could make angels weep.”
She squeezed Katie’s hand. “Now, as a welcome-back present for me , Katie is going to sing for us tonight. Greg, play ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me.’” Jane turned to Katie. “It’s my favorite, and you still owe me for covering for you when we were twelve,” she said with a smile.
“Jane, not that one.” Katie’s whisper traveled through the microphone just as the first strains of the melody began.
Jane ducked out of the way and Katie was left standing in front of a live microphone. The lights dimmed while the spotlight illuminated her. She took a breath, her spine straightening, and began to sing about need and loneliness and settling for touch rather than love.
The crowd slowly started taking notice. Most were still talking, but a wave of rapt attention gradually swelled toward the apple-crate stage.
I’d never heard a more heartbreakingly haunting rendition of that song.
To the rest of the patrons, drinking and chatting with friends, it was simply a surprisingly on-key performance.
They didn’t understand that Katie was baring her soul, exposing a yearning for love that seemed forever withheld.
It was too much, too intimate. I looked away from her, taking in the bar.
She held the room spellbound. My atrophied heart lurched.
I wanted nothing more than to turn off that damn song, pick up Katie, and carry her away somewhere safe, somewhere quiet where I could hold her and love her the way I’d always imagined.
When she stopped singing, the bar erupted in cheers. Katie laughed and took a very theatrical bow. How did no one notice the glassy sheen of tears in her eyes?
When she popped back up, she leaned into the mic and said, “And that, Jane, is how it’s done.” She tapped her chin, eyes raised to the ceiling. “Now, I seem to remember a certain waitress who spent many an evening when she was thirteen singing Kiss Me to her hairbrush while dancing in the mirror.”