Page 17 of His Last Shot

Did You Dance with Him?

Rachel

T he bar has emptied on this dreary night, which I’m fine with.

Well, except for Sam, Ricky, and Big C. Three regulars who have been coming to Dexter’s forever.

It’s eleven, and the sweeping of my workstation is the only sound breaking the room’s lack of bar commotion.

With my brother and Shelby on their honeymoon and the other bartenders gone for the night, it’s just little ole me here to fend for myself.

Eva, the bar waitress, is still here, but I’ll send her home shortly since it’s slowing down.

Then, there is one other thing. Johnny didn’t come tonight.

I can’t help but wonder why, although I know the reason.

Me, I’m the reason. I pushed him away … again.

Plus, he knows I went to the wedding with Drew, so I’m sure that is weighing heavily on his mind.

But what I wasn’t expecting was how much I would miss having him here with me. Knowing that last night was a tourney night, I cowardly called off, not wanting to face him. But then soon after regretted it.

Add it to the long list of regrets I have with that man.

“Hey, Rachel!” I turn to the sound of Ricky’s voice and him waving me over.

Ricky and I exchanged phone numbers when I met him here a little while ago when the remodel was almost done.

We talked some here and there. He’s a great guy, just not the guy for me.

We have struck up a nice friendship, though, so I always make time for him and his friends when they come in.

“What’s going on, fellas?” I ask, leaning in as Ricky’s eyes rove over my chest. We may not be dating, but he’s still Ricky. Always a flirt and quintessential ladies’ man.

He smirks, addressing me. “Our friend Sam here is driving us nuts.”

Sam rolls his eyes while taking a slow pull of his Heineken. “I don’t need any additional relationship advice, Ricky.”

Big C lets out a huge belly laugh, one that matches his hulking frame. “Yeah, you do.”

Ricky turns back to me. “You see, Rachel, Sam here is dating a woman named Cara.” He shrugs.

“She’s okay.” I glance at Big C; his moan, as he rolls his head back with a low, guttural sound, makes me chuckle.

These guys are too much. Sam sits and stares straight ahead, completely annoyed.

“And he’s obviously still in love with his ex-slash-love-of-his-life. Her name is Maria. She’s amazing .”

Sam’s head whips in Ricky’s direction. “I am not still in love with Maria. I love Cara. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“No. You need to keep telling yourself that.”

Sam and Ricky continue to argue as I fill Big C’s Ginger Ale. He must be the DD tonight. “These two always like this?”

“Worse actually.” The glass rises to his mouth while laughing at his two buddies going toe to toe right beside him.

“I’ll leave you to it. But you should start charging a referee fee.”

He lifts his glass to me. “No lie there.”

I open my mouth to continue my conversation with Big C, when the door creaks open, bringing with it the chill of the night air and the faint scent of rain.

Johnny enters, and his commanding presence fills the bar as he zeros in on me.

A surge of energy courses through me as his determined strides propel him in my direction.

But as he nears, the raw terror etched on his face is unmistakable.

What in the heck is going on?

His eyes dart around, searching through the few patrons that remain .

Tracking his every move, I watch him round the bar. This is odd since he always stays on the other side, never stepping into my work space unless it’s closing time.

“Johnny, hey. What are you—”

“Did Dexter come back tonight? Is he here?” he asks with urgency.

It’s an odd question. I chuckle at him, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re not even going to say hi?”

“Is he here?” he asks again through gritted teeth.

What is going on right now? I can’t tell if he’s angry. Or scared? “Johnny, I’m confused. What is—” Something dawns on me. “Wait, how do you know he left?”

“This guy bothering you, Rachel?” Big C interrupts, already beginning to rise from his stool while Sam and Ricky continue to bicker.

Not turning to acknowledge him, I wave my hand dismissively behind me. “No, no, it’s fine.”

Johnny’s eyes flicker to Big C, then his worried gaze, intense and unwavering, burns into mine. “He came to my house.”

Okay, that’s confusing . I take him by the arm and steer him away from the three men, out of earshot. “Why?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately.”

“Um, sure.” I untie the apron from my waist, the knot tight like my stomach, and place it on the counter below the bar. “Let me just get Eva to cover.” Thankfully, she agrees when I ask.

Grabbing Johnny by the arm, I lead him to the kitchen, glancing around to make sure that we are alone. “What do you mean, he came to your house?”

“He came to ask me what my intentions are toward you.”

I chuckle. “Oh, that’s no big deal. He has done that with every guy that has ever liked me.”

“No, Rachel. This was different.” He stops as he rubs the back of his neck, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. My amused chuckle dies in my throat with his noticeable distress.

Something’s wrong .

He turns to face me, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then hesitates, his mouth clamping shut. It’s almost as if he’s holding back. His voice, cracking slightly, breaks the silence. “He said that you and Drew were back together and that only Drew and him could take care of you.”

Oh, God! Did he tell Johnny about my RA?

“What else did he say?” I’m practically choking on the fear.

“He had me followed.”

Oh, thank God he didn’t —“Wait, what?” Uncle Dexter had him followed?

“He knew I spent time at my cousin’s last night and had dinner with them.

Plus, he did a small background check on me.

He knows my date of birth, my parents’ names.

Obviously, he knows where I live.” One by one, he’s ticking off the accusations on his fingers.

“Hell, he even knows about the incident in Daytona Beach.”

“You still never told me what happened in Daytona.”

He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “That’s not the point!”

“Sorry.” I lower my head. But also make a mental note to circle back to that one. “So, what? He had you investigated? Why would he do that?”

He takes a deep breath and steps closer to me. “He said that he owns me. Because I am bringing in so much money for him.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not na?ve. I know my uncle is … well, shady. “Did he threaten you?”

“I mean no, not in so many words, but he knows about Scott, Laura, and the kids, Rachel! He even made a lewd comment about Laura.”

Well, that doesn’t surprise me.

He rests his hands on my shoulders, his voice softer, etched with the same concern that matches his face. “I am really worried about you. Forget about me. I can take care of myself, but he is weirdly protective and controlling of you.” He exhales. “I’m scared. For your safety.”

A feeling of defensiveness breathes fire into me. There are so many men in my life trying to tell me what’s best for me. I don’t need another one. No matter how hot he is .

I shove his arms off my shoulders. “Well, don’t be, okay? I can take care of myself. And Uncle Dexter would never hurt me.” His eyes snap open, startled by my outburst.

Sometimes I get so sick and tired of people trying to protect me.

And maybe I’m overreacting because, deep down, I know Johnny is right.

Uncle Dexter is controlling and manipulative.

He always has been with me. Plus, I have seen and heard how he can treat people who cross him. But me? Is he capable of hurting me?

“I know you can,” he says, his voice tight with a mixture of worry and barely suppressed anger.

He crosses his arms defensively over his chest, his posture stiff. “Your uncle seems to think Drew, that steady and reliable chap, is more than capable of taking care of you. Tell me, is that what you want?” This unexpected question pierces me with a jolt of adrenaline.

No. That’s not what I want. Not at all. What I want is this beautiful man standing right in front of me. But I can’t have him. He thinks he wants me now. But as soon as he finds out about my RA, he will run.

With a tilt of his head, Johnny continues his questioning, each query sharper than the last. “How was the wedding? You and Drew have a nice time?” I’m smacked out of my self-loathing.

I step back. Maybe this is the way out. The lie is easy, a simple fabrication to give him the false hope he’s asking for. Then avoiding the inevitable heartbreak when he discovers my secret and runs away.

Because he would. They all do. And it would hurt. So much.

No other option is on the table. Because there is no doubt that I am falling for this man. Fast and hard.

I need to do this. Pushing him away is the only route, so I puff my chest out in mock confidence in this crazy idea as I lie to him. “It was amazing. Drew and I had a great time.”

Yep. Solid plan !

“Huh.” He takes one swift stride toward me. “Did you dance with him?” he asks, a hint of challenge in his tone as I take a quick step back. The question hangs heavy in the air, his voice a dark, velvety murmur that steals my breath.

Another step, closer to me.

Keep it together, Rachel!

“Yep. Lots and lots of dancing. Loads of dancing. Slow, fast, you name it.” The lie comes out shaky, my stiff joints making even the thought of dancing laughable.

The reception comes flooding back. Drew gave me the same look of disgust Sean did when I couldn’t dance at prom.

And for that reason, Drew and I only danced once.

And it was oh so awkward. His hands on my body felt foreign and made my skin crawl.