Armed 'N' Ready

by Tee O'Fallon

  Nick’s heart rate kicked up.

  She said something to Tess, then her eyes locked with his. She hastily made her way through the thickening crowd and came behind the bar. As she got closer, he glimpsed the sheer terror on her face.

  This had to be the call they’d been waiting for.

  Myer.

  As she drew nearer, his pulse thrummed faster. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  Chapter Ten

  Andi clenched the phone tighter. This was awful.

  Her anxiety ratcheted up as she wended her way through the crowd. Odd how Nick was the first person she sought for help.

  “What is it?” he asked when she reached him. Concern was evident in his eyes. The crowd was so loud he had to lean down to be heard. “Is it Myer?”

  She shook her head, trying not to let panic consume her as she listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Okay,” she said into her cell. “I understand completely. No worries. We’ll be fine.” No, they wouldn’t be. There was no way out of this mess. She ended the call and reclipped the phone to her waist, looking around the room. Most of the dining tables were full. The front door was jammed with more people trying to get in. She wanted to scream.

  Nick clasped her upper arms. “Andi. Talk to me. What’s wrong, baby?”

  Baby?

  She didn’t know why he’d called her that, but she liked it, and his touch was a soothing balm to her frenzied nerves.

  “I’m in trouble.” Six-foot-deep trouble.

  He cupped her chin. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

  “It’s my musician,” she cried. “His car broke down somewhere in Pennsylvania. He didn’t have his phone with him, so he wasn’t able to call sooner. He won’t be coming tonight.” She took an unsteady breath, her mind racing with entertainment alternatives, but there were none. None that could possibly justify the cover charge all these people had paid. “I’ve got a restaurant full of customers expecting entertainment, and he’s not coming. This is the first live performance here. If word gets out that my singer didn’t show, it could mean disaster for the DPC’s reputation.” Something she couldn’t afford, especially now.

  She looked around the dining room again, her panic growing. The crowd was getting antsy. Voices were getting louder. “I’m screwed.” She looked first into Nick’s eyes, then at Tess, who’d joined them. “What am I going to do?”

  “Don’t look at me.” Tess held up her hands. “I can’t play the piano, or the guitar, and I can’t hold a tune to save my life.”

  “Nick?” Nick’s friend, Matt, looked at him with raised brows, giving her the impression he was waiting for something.

  “Nick,” Eric repeated, banging his pint glass on the bar.

  Each of Nick’s other friends began banging their fists on the bar in unison, chanting, “Nick, Nick, Nick!”

  Customers all around the bar started clapping and cheering, though they had no idea what they were cheering about. Heck, even she didn’t know.

  He narrowed his eyes, glaring at his friends. She didn’t understand why, but he didn’t seem happy.

  “You can’t leave a damsel in distress,” Matt shouted over the chanting.

  Nick took a deep breath, rolling his eyes to the ceiling as if he were sending a prayer—or, a curse—to the heavens.

  “Cover the bar with Mark,” he said to Tess.

  “Yes, sir.” She gave him a jaunty salute as she took over at the beer taps.

  His face softened, then he touched his fingers to Andi’s cheek. “Give me a minute. I’ve got this.” Then he slipped past her and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Over the din, she barely heard the kitchen’s side door bang shut. Great. First my singer abandons me. Now, my bartender, too. And what did “I’ve got this” mean?

  Matt, Jaime, and Eric began clapping. Kade, Markus, and Dayne did a three-way fist bump. There was no time to dwell on what they were so happy about.

  The din inside the DPC rose until she could barely hear herself think. Worry had her twisting a towel in her hands. She was a savvy businesswoman. Surely, she could come up with something.

  A free round of drinks for everyone?

  No, one drink could never make up for the cover charge, and she couldn’t afford the loss in revenue.

  A dance contest? Trivia?

  All lousy ideas. She had to come up with something else, and fast.

  She looked nervously over her shoulder. Where is Nick? The drink orders were backing up, and both Mark and Tess had their hands full. Looking back at Matt’s friends, she caught Matt and Eric grinning expectantly.

  “What did he mean by, ‘I’ve got this’?” she shouted at them, looking from one man to the other.

  “You’ll see,” Matt replied with a full-blown grin.

  “See what?” When he didn’t respond, she looked at Eric, but Eric now had his eyes glued to something behind her.

  She followed his gaze to where Tess was shaking a martini. After she poured the drink and set it on the bar in front of a customer, Tess looked up and smiled shyly at Eric.

  Oh, boy. Tess didn’t know Eric was a cop—a federal agent. Not yet. But that was a conversation for another time. When she didn’t have a restaurant full of people waiting for live entertainment that wasn’t going to materialize.

  The kitchen door banged shut, and a moment later, Nick strode in. Without stopping, he wound his way to the front of the room where she’d set up a stool and a microphone next to the piano.

  She stared, not really comprehending the meaning of what she’d seen him carrying—a guitar case. She continued watching, dumbfounded, as he proceeded to unpack a gleaming wood guitar. After stowing the case behind him on the floor, he sat on the stool and began strumming the strings lightly, twisting the pegheads as he tuned the instrument. Then he turned on the microphone, and the crowd hushed.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” His clear baritone was more pronounced with the mic. “Unfortunately, the person you came to hear tonight was unable to make it. So you’ll have to settle for me. I’m Nick. Your bartender.”

  As a unit, his friends started whooping, hollering, and clapping, which got the entire crowd clapping and cheering with them.

  “You go, Nicky-boy!” Matt shouted.

  Eric, Jaime, and Kade whistled, as did many women. Even Markus, whom Andi had noticed didn’t say much, wore a slight smile.

  Nick began strumming the Troggs’ “Wild Thing,” and when he started to sing, her eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped. Nick’s voice was…mesmerizing.

  “Oh my God.” Tess squeezed her shoulder. “Did you have any idea he could sing? Like that?”

  Numbly, she shook her head. When they exchanged looks, she saw the same shocked expression on Tess’s face that she knew was reflected on her own.

  “Yeah,” Andi mumbled. “Who knew?” That her state-trooper–bartender could not only play the guitar, but sing as well as anyone she’d heard on the radio. There really were two totally different people wrapped up in that gorgeous, hunky body.

  As the song went on, people waved their arms in the air, swaying to the music and singing along. By the time Nick got to the last line—“shake it, shake it, wild thing”—most of the women were on their feet, shaking and gyrating their hips. Even Kara and Zoe had stopped serving and were dancing alongside everyone else.

  When Nick finished, the crowd roared and clapped, and Andi found herself applauding right along with them.

  “That man has hidden talents.” Tess leaned closer. “Didn’t you say he wasn’t your type? That you need a man with common interests, like books and music? Can you say, ‘check mark’?” She snickered before going back to mixing and pouring drinks.

  “Hidden talents,” Andi repeated. The man was amazing. His voice was incredible, and the way he got the crowd going within seconds was nothing short of a miracle. He’d saved her ass tonight.

  And where did he learn to sing and play the guitar like that?

 
Next, he launched into a set that included, among others, “Brown-Eyed Girl,” “Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy,” culminating in Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline.” She stayed behind the bar, helping Tess and Mark keep up with orders. Kara, Zoe, and the extra waitresses she’d hired for the night buzzed around the tables.

  After thirty minutes, Nick took a break, and the applause was deafening. He laid down his guitar then headed to the bar where his friends were still clapping.

  She grinned, still in disbelief as she moved closer to where Nick’s friends were now clapping him on the back. Leaning over, she shouted, “Buy you a beer?”

  “Maybe later.” He winked. “For now, I’ll take two glasses of water.”

  “Coming right up.” She squeezed water from a nozzle into two glasses, unable to peel her eyes from him as he gave all his friends dirty looks. As she carried over his water glasses, it hit her. For some reason, he hadn’t wanted to do this, and not just because it wasn’t part of his job. His friends had heckled him into it. He’d done it for her.

  That stony resolve she’d erected to stay away from men—Nick in particular—slipped a solid foot. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned and met her gaze. Since he was too far away to hear, she mouthed the words thank you.

  You’re welcome, he mouthed back, then one corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin.

  Inexplicably, her heart began thumping harder. She set the water on the bar in front of him, and he guzzled the first glass without taking a breath. Her eyes went to his strong throat as he swallowed. Wow.

  “Not bad, huh?”

  She turned to find Matt watching her. The man really was handsome. All Nick’s friends were, but Nick was the only one who got her blood pumping until she thought it would shoot out her ears.

  “You’re right. Not bad at all.” And Tess was right, too. A man like Nick didn’t come along every day.

  Fifteen minutes later, he surprised her yet again by relocating the microphone to the top of the piano and sitting on the piano bench. Clapping greeted him, followed by whistling. The women in the crowd absolutely loved him.

  “Thank you,” Nick said. “I’d like to dedicate the next song to my best friends in the back of the bar.”

  This got his friends hooting even louder this time, lifting their beers to Nick as he launched into a raucous rendition of Garth Brooks’s “Friends in Low Places.”

  For the next thirty minutes, the drinks flowed, and Marty sent out plate after plate of appetizers. Nick pounded the keys, engaging the crowd by taking requests and acknowledging two birthdays, one anniversary, and one couple who’d just gotten engaged. He finished up his last set with Jerry Lee Lewis’s “Great Balls of Fire.” She’d thought the applause had been deafening before, but that had been nothing compared to this. She resisted the impulse to cover her ears.

  It was after one in the morning when she and Nick closed up the restaurant and let Saxon and Stray out of the kennel for a walk along the edge of the lake. The sky was clear, and the full moon reflected off the still water. With his dark coat, Saxon was barely visible, trotting ahead of them. Stray kept pace, her golden-brown coat shining in the moonlight, letting them know where the dogs were at all times.

  For several minutes, they walked in comfortable silence broken only by the chirp of crickets and the hooting of an owl.

  “Were you ever going to tell me you play the guitar and piano, and sing as well as anyone on the radio?”

  “No,” he said simply.

  She laughed. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not relevant.”

  “Not relevant?” She stopped walking and caught his arm. “But you’re an amazing singer. The way you engaged the audience…you’re a natural showman. How in the world did you wind up being a cop?”

  “I used to love performing, but law enforcement was my calling.” He began walking again, giving her no choice but to fall in step.

  “Where did you perform?”

  “High school and college, mostly.” He whistled softly, and both dogs came loping out of the darkness. “In school, I was torn between football and musicals, so I did both. I played football in the fall, and did musicals in the spring.”

  “Were you any good at football?” She couldn’t imagine him not being as good at football as he was at performing, or at being a cop.

  He laughed. “I could have gone pro, but I joined the marines right out of school.”

  “Why?”

  “Helping others and protecting this country and what it stands for was a stronger calling. Running around a football field wouldn’t have cut it.”

  “Were you one of those SEALs?”

  He laughed. “No. I went with Force Recon.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Some consider it the marine equivalent of the SEALs.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of it?”

  He gave a low chuckle. “Most people haven’t. We like to joke that SEALs are a bunch of sissies compared to Force Recon. Everyone’s heard of SEALS because there’ve been more books and movies about them than any other special ops team.”

  “How long were you in the marines?”

  “Six years.”

  “After that?”

  “I got hired by the state police.”

  “Is that why you stopped performing?”

  It was a long moment before he responded. “I just didn’t want to do it anymore.”

  The path veered sharply to the right, and their arms brushed, giving her goose bumps. This was their first real conversation about something other than Joe, and she didn’t want it to end.

  “Why not?” Somehow, she sensed there was a specific reason he didn’t perform anymore, and she found herself wanting to know more about him, and what made him tick.

  “I was twenty-seven when I became a trooper. Shortly after that I got married and only played or sang occasionally for my wife.”

  Andi froze in mid-step. He’s married? Her heart all but stopped beating. This can’t be happening. God, she felt like a fool for starting to actually feel something for him.

  “Andi?” He stood a few feet ahead of her. “You coming?”

  “No.” She called for Stray, then waited for the dog to sit at her side. “I’m tired. I need to go home.” She turned to head back to the house, and he clasped her arm.

  “Bull.” With his thumb and forefinger, he gently forced her chin up. “My wife died five years ago. Since then, music stopped giving me any enjoyment. That’s why the guitar was in my truck. I was going to donate it.” In the moonlight, his gray eyes sparkled like polished silver. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, torn between relief that he wasn’t married and sadness at his loss. He must have loved his wife very much. So much that her death had convinced him that he no longer deserved to experience the joy of his music.

  “For what?” His brows furrowed as he dropped his hands first to her shoulders, then to her bare arms.

  “Your wife.” Curiosity had her wanting to ask how she died, but she didn’t. “Is that why you didn’t want to sing tonight?” Because it was something special you did for her?

  Jealousy for a dead woman made her feel small and petty, but she couldn’t help it. He’d loved someone enough to marry her. That’s what she used to want—before she’d lost faith.

  He ran his hands up and down her arms, sending delicious shivers shooting across her skin. “I wasn’t prepared to sing tonight, but I wanted to help you.”

  “Thank you again for that. Truly. I’m sorry that it brought up bad memories for you.”

  “At first it did.” His hands stilled. “Then it felt good. Cathartic.”

  “I’m glad.” In the dim light, she detected a slight smile on his lips. “Music is a beautiful thing no one should have to live without.”

  Wordlessly, he cupped the back of her neck, his thumb grazing her cheek. His breath was warm on her face. “You smell like pretty flo
wers.”

  Involuntarily, her lips parted. “It’s freesia,” she whispered, and her heart began to race. He was going to kiss her. And God help me, I want him to.

  “It’s nice,” he whispered back.

  As he lowered his head, her gaze was drawn to his mouth. His lips were soft, feathering hers before adding light pressure, urging hers to part. The kiss was gentle, his touch exquisitely tender on her cheek.

  His tongue sought hers, and she uttered a tiny gasp, moaning low in her throat, pressing her lips harder against his. Kissing him back might very well be a colossal mistake, but it was what she wanted more than anything, and when he began kissing her more deeply, something fierce and instinctive shot through her blood, a craving she could no longer deny. Every one of her nerve endings sparked for the first time in so many years she’d lost count.

  She arched against him, sliding her hands around his waist and up his back. Beneath the soft T-shirt, solid muscle rippled at her touch. His heart hammered against her breasts, and his big body shuddered as if he were holding back.

  Something wriggled between them. Stray. To her dismay, the dog forced them apart.

  “Quite the protective little watchdog you’ve got.” He uttered a low laugh then leaned down to give Stray a pat on the head.

  Not to be outdone, Saxon pushed between their legs, panting and demanding attention. Andi rubbed the other dog’s ears.

  “C’mon.” He laced his fingers with hers. “It’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

  With her pulse still fluttering, the walk back passed in silence, but inside she was smiling. She didn’t understand how or why, but tonight there’d been a discernible shift in their relationship and her perception of him.

  Her fingers were totally engulfed by his large, calloused hand, and as exhausted as she was, part of her wished the walk back to her house was longer than it was. The other part warned her she’d be a naive fool to forget that he held her future and the future of the DPC in his hands. Right now, she was incredibly vulnerable and still needed to tread carefully around him.