Page 8

CHAPTER 7

Little Victories Bucket List No. 8: Broaden your tastes

Cammie’s job was going better than she ever could have hoped. The work she was doing brought her so much joy that she was completely enveloped in love and passion for it. Who knew the simple task of making coffee for customers could be so fulfilling?

In addition to the job, Marilyn, having observed Cammie’s daily walk to the budget motel after work each afternoon, generously offered her the apartment above the bakery at a reasonable price. It was a cozy, fully furnished space with a much more pleasant atmosphere than where she had been staying. The sweet scent of baking bread a welcome change from the stale air of the motel. With each passing day, she felt more at home, and the transition to her new life was proceeding smoothly.

Every day brought encounters with individuals whose kindness was profoundly different from anything within the scope of her past experiences. Their gentle words and welcoming smiles felt like sunshine on her skin, chasing away the shadows of her past. She’d been right about her initial assessment of Marilyn as well. The woman was a kindred spirit who never failed to make her laugh. Emotions overwhelmed her on a daily basis and she found herself fighting off the sting of tears quite often.

Tonight, though, it was time to knock off another item on her bucket list as she stood on the sidewalk looking up at the multistory building in front of her. A thumping bass, emanating from inside, vibrated the very air around her. Nervousness struck her, but she pushed it down. This would be no different from going to a restaurant by herself. So what if it was a bar, and she didn’t have much experience with alcohol?

A shiver, cold and sudden, shot up her spine as the chilling details of her knowledge regarding alcohol flooded her mind. Whenever those around her drank, it had always been a harbinger of misfortune, a pattern established since her earliest memories. Her father had been a mean drunk and found disfavor with her in just about everything. His fists flew freely on those occasions while his drunken slurs and booming voice echoed in her memory, a chilling soundtrack to her childhood.

Pushing those memories aside and squaring her shoulders, she reached for the door handle. With a forceful pull, she opened the door, unleashing a wave of music that crashed over her. Stepping inside, she stopped to take in the place.

Gleaming under the overhead lights on one side of the room, a long curved bar was a striking feature, complemented by the numerous high top tables occupying the middle of the space. The building featured a second-floor balcony that encircled the entire room. Additional tables were positioned tightly next to the old, weathered wooden railings that showed the signs of years of use. With wide, rustic beams stretching across the high ceiling, Hooch and Harmony exuded a rustic, country ambiance, perfectly complementing its honky-tonk style.

Occupying the space at the far end of the room, directly opposite the entrance, was a sizable stage. The music pulsed through her body, driven by the rhythmic energy of the band’s performance. The driving beat vibrated through her, making her body want to move to the rhythm. Her hips swayed before she could stop them. She never thought she’d be a country music fan, but the band before her was slaying it. The energy of the band, the twanging guitars, and the stomping feet were electrifying.

As she watched from afar, a sea of people packed the space before the stage, engaged in a vibrant and unfamiliar line dance that was entirely new to her, and drew spectators from the upper balcony. A longing to join in swept through her, but first she needed to fortify herself with a bit of alcohol.

Finding an open stool at the bar, she sat and waited for one of the bartenders to notice her. After a few minutes, the woman finally approached her. “Okay, little bit. What can I getcha?”

“Um . . .” Cammie froze. She’d never ordered alcohol before and didn’t know where to start. With the onset of panic, the array of bottles lined up behind the bar became an indistinct blur. A sense of impending failure washed over her, accelerating relentlessly toward her. With a quick glance, her eyes darted around the bar, trying to discern what drinks others had ordered, hoping to glean some insight into their choices. But everything was unfamiliar. She couldn’t distinguish whiskey from beer. Tall, slender glasses stood beside squat, round ones, their contents a mystery to her.

The bartender must have noticed her panic and offered her an out. “How ’bout I pick for ya?” she asked.

Cammie nodded enthusiastically. With a decisive movement, the woman grasped a glass mug, positioned it beneath a nozzle, then pulled a lever. A rich, amber-colored liquor filled the waiting vessel. She was presented with a mug that had a thin layer of foam on top, some of which had spilled over the sides. As Cammie lifted the mug, the rich aroma of oak and vanilla wafted upward from the liquid, causing her to pause for a moment to inhale its fragrant essence before taking a delicate sip.

Her expression must have been quite comical, as evidenced by the bartender’s uproarious laughter. “Give it a chance. You’ll get used to the taste.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Cammie mumbled, then took another sip. This time, she successfully maintained a neutral expression on her face.

The bartender wasn’t fooled. “Keep sipping. I’ll get you somethin’ different next time. Name’s Melli. That’s my dad, Dizzy,” she said, gesturing to the behemoth at the other end of the bar. “We run this place together.”

The pair were so utterly dissimilar in every conceivable way that it was hard to believe they were related. In contrast to Dizzy’s towering height, Melli was average in stature. The overhead lights glinted off Dizzy’s bald head in sharp contrast to Melli’s long, dark hair, which was pulled neatly back into a ponytail.

“Cammie,” she replied, her smile easy as she extended a hand, which Melli took.

“Good to meet you,” she said after shaking her hand. “Wait. Are you the new girl who everybody’s talking about?”

Cammie’s heart leaped into her throat, a frantic drum against her ribs. Everybody was talking about her? Did they know what happened to her? Did they know who she really was?

“W-What?”

“Yeah. People are talking about the new brewmaster at Flour Power. They say the creations are unlike anything ever tasted before,” Melli said, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

As relief flooded through her, a subtle blush of pleasure colored her cheeks. She swiped a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes wide with disbelief as she whispered, “Are they really saying that?” Having never experienced praise before, she found herself in the strange position of at the same time craving more affirmation while also feeling overwhelmed by the unexpected attention. She wanted to bask in the warmth of the admiration and completely immerse herself in it, while simultaneously a sense of unease and a deep feeling of being undeserving caused her to wish she could disappear.

“I haven’t had a chance to stop in yet,” Melli continued, unaware of Cammie’s internal battle and sudden need to withdraw. “But now that I’ve met you, I’ll make more of an effort.” Hearing someone call her name, she waved, then turned to Cammie and said, “Let me know if you need anything,” before going to greet whoever had called to her.

Throughout the evening, Mellie reappeared several times, each time bearing a different alcoholic beverage for her to try. While the taste of beer remained unappealing to her, she developed a liking for rum drinks, and Melli’s mojitos, with their refreshing blend of rum, mint, and lime, quickly became a favorite. Eventually, with Cammie’s stomach rumbling and a need to sop up the liquor, the aroma of fried chicken wings drew her in, and she ordered a basket. And now she had acquired a taste for bar food. Between the sweets at Flour Power and the food at the Hooch and Harmony bar, her waistline was going to suffer.

As she ate, Cammie watched the pair of bartenders. Other differences between the father/daughter duo, aside from their looks, became increasingly evident. With an easygoing temperament and a smile that could melt glaciers, she charmed everyone she served. The upbeat tempo of the band apparently spurred the woman on; she danced and sang along, the music a vibrant part of her work. Melli possessed a figure that many women only dreamed of, a curvaceous form that she used to her advantage, knowing how to work her assets. Each hip shake sent a wave of whoops and hollers through the bar, adding to the lively atmosphere.

On the other hand, her father’s personality was strikingly different. With a reserved and stoic air, Dizzy kept watch over his patrons and his daughter, his quiet attentiveness a contrast to the lively environment of the establishment. If things got too rowdy, thanks to his daughter’s antics, the mere sight of him stepping toward an unruly patron was enough to quiet them down.

A pang of jealousy struck Cammie. Dizzy’s vigilance over his daughter was clear; a fierce protectiveness that made her wonder what it felt like to have such a bond. Before she could unleash a torrent of tears over the life she would never have, she averted her gaze from the two bartenders, turning her barstool to distract herself by watching the dancers instead.

Drawn in by the patrons’ skillful and seemingly effortless execution of the dances, she was filled with wonder at their perfect synchronization and mastery of the steps. The rhythmic stomp and clap of their dance filled the air, each twist and turn a mesmerizing display that fueled her envy. Laughter and cheerful shouts filled the air as everyone seemed to be having the best time, their joy infectious. She imagined what it would be like to abandon all her inhibitions and simply let loose. The exuberant laughter, the uninhibited dance, the sweet taste of recklessness on her tongue. To cast off the shackles of restraint and allow herself the unrestrained joy of walking on the wild side; what a transformative experience that would be.

If only she were brave enough. The Carmela of before, the timid, reserved person she used to be, would never have dared. Would never have been so bold. But could Cammie?

Before she could formulate an answer, the doors swung inward with a loud bang, and a group of men, their laughter and conversation already filling the air, strode into the bar. The polished wooden floor amplified the sound of their footsteps as they confidently strode toward a collection of empty high-top tables. Heads turned, and whispers followed as they moved through the dimly lit bar, captivating the attention of most women and a few men at the bar; a hush fell over the lively chatter. Each one of the men had a bearing that spoke of quiet strength and keen intelligence, their eyes sharp and alert.

As the men made their way across the room, weaving between tables, they waved and shouted greetings to several nearby patrons, the sounds of their voices mingling with the boisterous chatter of the bar. Several times one or more of them would stop to greet someone with that back slapping man hug thing guys did. It was clear that the men were regulars and well-respected within the establishment.

They reminded her of the man from the park who had rescued her from the tree, his strong hands and calm voice echoing in her memory. She’d thought of the man many times since that day. No matter how hard she tried, his face and kindness would always be etched in her memory.

When the group shifted, Cammie sucked in a breath, her heart quickening as her eyes fell upon the very man who had only moments before occupied her thoughts.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed the Condor’s?” Melli said from behind her.

“The Condor’s?”

“Condor’s Overwatch. They are some sort of security company that operates around these parts. I don’t know much about what they do, but they are usually here a couple of nights a week,” Melli explained.

“I’ve met one of them.”

With a quick turn of her head, Cammie saw her new friend's surprised expression, her eyebrows shooting up in astonishment. “Ooh, do tell,” Melli prompted, a playful smile on her face as her interest was piqued. “Which one?”

Cammie looked back at the attractive group of men, spotting Wade instantly. The gray T-shirt clung to his muscular physique, his biceps straining against the tight fabric, showcasing his powerful build. The faded, worn jeans he wore hugged his lower half, enhancing his body in a way that should have been forbidden. Her body responded involuntarily, a novel and powerful need pulsing within her, unlike anything she had known.

Amused, Melli glanced over her shoulder, her tone light and teasing as she followed Cammie’s gaze, and replied with a knowing, “Ah, I see. You’ve got a thing for Jeeves.”

Cammie’s face exploded in a scarlet blush as a surprised, sputtering gasp escaped her lips. “It’s not like that.”

“Then why can’t you tear your eyes off of him?” Melli challenged.

The group of men shifted, and in that instant, their eyes met across the room; a spark ignited, and the air crackled with a potent energy that left her breathless.