Chapter 32 Heart Dancing
HEART DANCING
MADISON
Slamming three shot glasses onto the bar, I tip the bottle of whiskey and watch the gold liquid pour.
The first glass fills, and I move quickly along to fill the second and third, twisting my wrist to bring the bottle back down.
I smile at the three guys in front of me, slide their shots across the bar, and hold my hand out for the cash.
The one in the middle, his dark eyes roam over me, slow and deliberate, the corner of his mouth twisting into an unpleasant smirk.
Here we go.
My first week back at work has been uneventful, to say the least. Hunter didn’t want me returning at all.
He was convinced I’d overdo it the second I stepped behind the bar.
So, we compromised. The first two days, I stayed in the office, reorganizing and sorting through twelve weeks’ worth of paperwork.
I flew through it, caught up faster than expected, and even managed to get ahead for the week.
After that, I eased back in, doing short shifts on slower nights, a couple of hours here and there.
It helped. It was sensible. But after twelve weeks of healing, physical therapy, and learning how to trust my leg again, it was also driving me insane.
Slow isn’t for me. I crave the hustle and bustle, the noise, the constant movement. The stories people spill after a drink or two, and the town gossip passed between locals.
His clammy hand slaps the cash into my palm, but he doesn’t let go. I try to pull back at the same time he yanks me forward, my hips slamming into the counter hard enough to steal my breath. I wince, my pulse kicking into double time as I glance toward Connor.
Only it’s not Con.
Hunter’s stormy gaze locks onto mine before darting to the guy still gripping my hand. I try to smile—to defuse it, to tell him I’ve got this handled—but my man has been extra protective since we went all in.
“Let go of my hand,” I tell the guy, my voice steady even as my heart races.
“Oh, come on, sugar. Don’t be like that,” he drawls, his tone slick and mocking, like this is all part of the game.
His grip tightens, crushing my knuckles together. Pain shoots up my arm as his buddies chuckle beside him, tipping their shots back.
“The lady said let go.”
I attempt to pull my hand back again, but it’s useless. His grip doesn’t budge. My gaze cuts to the man who’s stepped up beside him, and every instinct I have goes on high alert.
His eyes are dark and knowing, as if they’ve seen too much and kept every secret. A scar cuts down his lower lip, drawing attention to the hard line of his mouth, and though he’s dressed in a long-sleeve tee, the ink creeping up his hands and along his neck tells his own story.
This isn’t a man who repeats himself.
He grabs the slimy guy by the arm and yanks hard. He stumbles back, finally releasing my hand. I pitch forward, catching myself on the bar. Hunter’s there in an instant, his hands wrapping around my waist and pulling me flush against his chest.
“The fuck, man?” the guy shouts. “The pretty girl here was asking for it. Look at her in those boots, and that come-fuck-me smile she gave me—”
“Cole,” Hunter cuts in, his voice low and lethal enough to send a shiver racing down my spine. “Get this piece of shit out of my bar.”
“With pleasure.” Cole smirks.
He grabs the guy by the neck and hauls him toward the door, his protests fading as they disappear outside.
“You okay, baby girl?” Hunter asks, searching my face. “Wanna head home early?”
“I’m fine, handsome.” I force a breath, adrenaline buzzing under my skin. “Nothing I couldn’t have handled on my own.”
Around us, the bar keeps moving. Girls shout with laughter, pool balls crack against felt, nineties music thumps through the jukebox. I look around. It’s packed tonight—bodies pressed close, the air thick with sweat, fried food, and alcohol. My heart races, loud and fast.
Yeah, I’ve missed this.
“You guys good?” Asher asks, stepping up behind Hunter, a rack of empty glasses balanced in his hand.
“Yeah, man.” Hunter claps him on the shoulder.
Moments later, Cole strolls back inside. He slides onto the stool in front of me, knuckles tapping on the bar in a slow rhythm, and gives Hunter a sharp nod.
“You want some ice for them?” Hunter asks.
His knuckles are red, cracked, and swollen. I gasp, reaching into the ice bin. Scooping up a handful, I wrap it in a towel and hand it over to him along with a beer.
“Thanks,” he grunts, voice rough, as he lifts the towel to his hands. He doesn’t offer more, and I guess he doesn’t need to.
“You wanna tell me what you’re doing here?” Hunter asks, eyes narrowing. “Heard the boys passed through while I was gone.”
Cole leans back with a lazy smirk that doesn’t reach his dark eyes. “We’re looking for someone. The guys were told not to stop in this town. Sorry about that.” His words are curt, clipped.
“Alright. Don’t make a habit of it,” Hunter replies.
“Just passing through. Appreciate your hospitality,” Cole says.
He throws back the rest of his beer, taps his knuckles against the bar once more, and stands. Without another word, he walks out.
I stare after him, curiosity prickling at the back of my neck. Who the hell was that? Why have I never seen him before? I raise a brow at Hunter. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to the side.
“Cole’s from Ashfalls,” he says, his voice low, so only I can hear. “Someone you don’t want on your bad side. He came through years ago, on one of your nights off. Struck up an understanding with Asher and me.”
Odd, but okay. I trust Hunter and Asher and know they’d do anything to keep this bar—and this town—safe. I rise onto my toes and press a kiss to Hunter’s lips.
“Hey, Queen.”
Connor’s voice cuts through the moment, and I spin, spotting him at the far end of the bar, towel slung over his shoulder as he pours a beer. He tilts his head toward a booth, and my jaw drops. My pulse quickens. Could this be…
I nudge Hunter, grinning, and point to where my attention has been taken.
“Well, would you look at that? Hank actually took your hints after all,” he says.
I bite back a laugh, trying not to get too excited. My fingers curl around Hunter’s arm as I watch my mom say something, and Hank’s eyes light up, his head tipping back as he laughs. Oh, I can’t wait to grill her with all the questions.
Mom has been in my corner every step of the way, and seeing her finally doing something for herself, and watching Hank smile across from her instead of sitting in front of me with grief shadowing his eyes… is everything I hoped for.
Two girls flag me down, and I slip back into work mode. A few orders later, I pour a wine and a beer and carry them over to Mom and Hank.
“Hand it over,” Mom says, smirking as she holds her hand out.
“Damn, Madison.” Hank chuckles, shaking his head. “You could have waited ten more minutes.”
I set the drinks down, glancing between them. “I’m afraid to ask.”
Mom laughs. “I told him you’d be over here within ten minutes of seeing us. He bet me twenty.”
I lift a brow at her. “What did you expect? We had breakfast this morning, and this”—I gesture between the two of them—“was not a topic of conversation.”
“That’s because it only happened thirty minutes ago,” Hanks says, smiling at her. “Ran into your momma on her way home from the store.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll leave you two to it.” I point a finger at Mom, stepping back. “I expect a full debrief tomorrow. We’re doing a paint-and-sip at Halle’s store. You’re coming.”
Her smile widens. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Leaving them to it, I make my way back to the bar, collecting empty glasses as I go. My chest feels light, my heart still dancing at the sight of the two of them sitting there together.
I drop the glasses in the kitchen just as Hunter walks out of the office.
“Hey, baby. Asher’s going to close up for us tonight,” he says, brushing past me. “You’ve got thirty minutes, then I’m stealing you.”
I snort. “How can you steal me if we live together?” I call after him, smiling to myself.