Sugar Plum Serenade (Seawolf Beach #2)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Olive squealed and closed her eyes. As if that would help. She had nowhere to go! The polished wooden bar was behind her. Directly before her two older men wrestled beer belly to beer belly, edging closer and closer to her, cursing at each other. It was difficult to understand everything they said, but the contentious subject seemed to be football, of all things. She opened one eye; they weren’t more than a foot away. The jabs they threw were ineffective, for the most part, but they did throw them, one after another. One meaty fist came much too close to her shoulder.

Tuck thrust himself between the two men and separated them easily, one hand fisted on a T-shirt, the other gripping a collar. He pushed them back and away from her. The fighters were separated, then with a move she couldn’t quite explain, Tuck put them each, one at a time, on their asses. He stood over them prepared to do whatever was necessary to keep them down.

His efficiency and chivalry were both incredibly hot. Oh my.

“Don’t make me call Mac,” he said in a firm voice. “I will, if you both don’t get out of here, now. You’ve had enough to drink tonight. Go home and sleep it off.” As the men awkwardly rose to their feet and stumbled toward the exit, Tuck added, in a raised voice, “If you fight in the parking lot, you’ll both be banned from The Magnolia for six months!”

One of the men looked back, eyes widened in surprise. “You would never do such a thing. We’re your best customers.”

“Not when you upset the pretty lady,” Tuck said with a wave of his hand in her direction.

One of the men stumbled and all but fell out the door. The other was right behind but stopped to call out, “Sorry, pretty lady.”

The excitement had begun and ended pretty quickly, but Olive’s heart pounded double time. Tuck placed himself between her and the rest of the crowd, who all watched. Since the brawlers were gone the entertainment was over, there was no one to watch but Tuck, and her.

“Are you okay?”

Olive nodded her head, but couldn’t find her voice.

“Are you sure?” He looked down the bar. “Ginny, get Olive another can of wine.”

Her initial response to that was a brief, sharp burst of laughter. Another can of wine! “No, no, if I have any more, I won’t be able to drive. I’m a lightweight. If I drink any more, I’ll need a designated driver.”

“You’re looking at one,” he said.

“I need to go to the grocery store on the way home…”

“I’ll take you to the grocery store, if it can’t wait.”

He had an argument for everything. “Who’s Mac?” she asked.

“Chief of police. He’s even better than I am at breaking up bar fights, and everyone’s more afraid of him than they are of me. ”

“No one should be afraid of you.” She sure wasn’t. “You’re not scary at all.”

“Get into a fight in my bar and maybe you’ll think differently.” That statement was followed by a smile. He did have a very charming smile.

Her mind continued to spin and her heart beat too fast. More wine might not have been the best cure for either, but she took it anyway.

“How many cans of wine would it take to get you on the dance floor?” Tuck asked in a lowered voice.

“More than I’m going to drink, tonight or ever.”

“Too bad.”

He sat beside her and took a bite of his half of the burger, but she’d lost her appetite so what was left of her half sat, untouched.

The band played their first song, one she recognized but couldn’t name. Something from the seventies, she thought. It was nice. Her toes wiggled a little and her butt squirmed, but she remained steadfast in her refusal to dance.

Halfway through her third glass of wine, she realized how lightheaded she’d become. Her mind wandered all over the place. That fist that had come so close. Tuck coming to her rescue. The new, sexy dress that was hanging in her closet. Her knight in shining armor stayed right beside her, as if he was worried. Worried about her. That was sweet, but unnecessary. She could and would take care of herself.

Though the two pot-bellied men would’ve been a challenge if they’d moved any closer.

She spun on her stool to face Tuck. “You’re still a bouncer, aren’t you?”

“Some nights I am.”

“What else do you do?” Besides fight fires and shop for old ladies and break up bar fights and flirt with neighbors .

“I do pretty much everything around here. Cleaning, bartending, cooking if I have to, accounting. I’ve married a few people, too.”

Oh, no. “How many times have you been married?” she asked, her voice squeaking a little on that final word.

He grinned at her. Oh, that smile . “I worded that badly. Sorry. I’m ordained in the Sacred Ministry of Eternal Union. You’d be surprised how many people want to tie the knot under a neon beer sign.”

That was a relief. At least he wasn’t a serial husband. “Jack of all trades…”

“Master of none?” he finished.

“I didn’t say that. You seem to do everything well.” Even… Nope, not going there. Lots of men were good kissers. No need to offer praise in that department. Wine made her too talkative. Always. “I bought something sexy for our date tomorrow night.”

“Did you?”

“Yes. You did ask me to, and I complied. It’s red. I look good in red.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“I haven’t been on a date in ages,” she whispered. “I haven’t been…” She stopped. Thank goodness she wasn’t far enough gone to finish that sentence.

“You haven’t been…” he prodded.

“I haven’t been this tipsy in a long time.” She pushed what was left of her third glass, which wasn’t much, away. “I’ll definitely need a driver tonight.”

That’s not all she needed.

A slightly drunken Olive had taken his mind off everything. Between the fight, keeping her safe, the way she looked at him sometimes… He hadn’t thought about ghosts and grandmothers until he remembered that he hadn’t thought about them for a while.

Olive probably didn’t know how cute she was when she was tipsy; she might hit him if he told her.

That I haven’t been … stayed on his mind as he drove her home. I haven’t been tempted. I haven’t been laid. I haven’t been…

As he steered the truck onto Jasmine Street, she started to sing. “Jingle Bells.” Maybe she could dance, or at least she’d once been able to, but she couldn’t carry a tune. At least, not in her current condition. She looked out the window, studying the lights and other decorations as they drove slowly past.

“I should like Christmas again by now, don’t you think?” she asked as he pulled into his driveway.

“I don’t know. Should you?”

“Maybe. I mean, until I was dropped in front of hundreds of people and my career as a dancer ended with a crack, I loved the holidays. The music, the presents, the decorations. The food! Oh, my mom makes the best spice cake, but only for Christmas.”

“Do you still eat it?”

“Duh, yes. Maybe I hate Christmas but I’m not a glutton for punishment.”

Hate was a strong word. He wondered if she meant that, truly. Now was not the time to ask. “So you just don’t like the music and the decorations.”

“I don’t like the constant reminder that I’m no longer who I was meant to be.”

He rounded the truck and opened her door, then helped her down. She was still a little wobbly. “Maybe you were wrong about what you were meant to be.”

She ignored him. “You’re good at taking care of people in so many ways. I see that, even if you don’t. You took care of Uncle Shithead, you took care of me when I thought I was going to be bowled over by two fat guys, and you bought nice, expensive scarves for old ladies! You fight fires, and that’s another way of being a caretaker. You make dreams come true by marrying couples under beer neon. You can do anything, I bet, anything you want. If you wanted to be an EMT, or a nurse, or even a doctor, you could do it. You have that option. I will never be a prima ballerina. I will never dance onstage again, I will never …”

“Maybe you should focus on what you can do instead of what you can’t.”

She didn’t immediately respond as they walked up the steps to her front porch. Olive opened her purse, reached inside, and fumbled for her keys. With the key ring in hand, she turned to him. “That’s not an entirely terrible idea. I suppose I should get over being dropped by a man I thought…” There was a short pause before she rose up on her toes and kissed him. Not a sweet little thank you peck on the lips, no, this was a warm, arousing, tempting kiss. Those lips. That tongue.

She was too drunk for him to do anything about it. Tempted as he was, he wouldn’t be that guy .

The kiss ended and she took one step back. He asked, “Why did you do that?”

She smiled at him. “Because I can.” She unlocked the door and opened it. “I would ask you in, but… I can’t. I’m going to put on my pajamas and have some ice cream to sober up, then I’ll get a good night’s sleep.”

“Ice cream?”

“Works every time,” she said as she stepped inside. “Not that I need sobering often, but Jessica, my business partner, she likes wine with dinner and she holds hers much better than I hold mine, so when we have occasion to celebrate… which isn’t at all important.” She looked him in the eye. “Thank you for bringing me home. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Six o’clock,” he said. He couldn’t wait to see her in her sexy red dress…