I Love This Bar (2 page)

He'd been wrong.

   Uncle Emmett had gone plumb crazy since his wife died the year before and refused to listen to a word or idea that Jarod had to say. After that day, Jarod was seriously considering throwing in the towel and going home to Oklahoma. Right now he was almost glad he didn't.

   He looked down the length of the shiny bar at the bartender who'd taken his order. When he'd raised his head up and seen exactly who'd broken his fall, he'd had the urge to kiss her. Looking at her, he wished he had. He could have blamed it on the moment. Now he'd never know what those full lips tasted like.

   
"She's a barmaid." Aunt Mavis' voice perched o
n his shoulder and whispered in his ear.
"Remember your
second fiancée?"

   Jarod's jaw muscles worked like he was chewing peanuts.

   
"Man don't get a good woman in a bar, Jarod. You
done proved that,"
she taunted in that gravelly voice of a fifty-year smoker.

   "I hear you," he mumbled aloud.

   Sure, the barmaid at the Honky Tonk was a looker and there was something about those long legs and that tiny waist that made his mouth go dry, but a vow was a vow and Aunt Mavis would claw her way up from the grave and haunt him if he looked at a barmaid twice. Well, maybe he'd better make that three times because he'd already had a very long second look at her.

   Daisy felt his stare. A sideways glance told her that he liked what he saw. The set of his jaw said he wouldn't act on it. Owning a bar or tending a bar didn't make her a slut or an immoral person, and it was her damn business. Not his. She wouldn't let him buy her a dime paper cup of lemonade from a school kid's stand if he asked. Not after that condescending, sidling look he'd shot her way.

   Billy Bob Walker slapped the cowboy on the shoulder. "Hey, Jarod, where's Emmett? Just heard this week that you were over there helping him. You should have called us. Why didn't Emmett come with you tonight?"

   Daisy moved a few steps closer. With lots of effort she tuned out the noise of the jukebox and forty people talking at once and zeroed in their conversation.

   Jarod took a long pull from the Mason jar and said, "I don't think a stick of dynamite could blow his sorry ass off that ranch. Won't do a thing with it, but he's not about to let me do what needs to be done. And he sure won't leave it for five minutes for fear I'll move the damn salt shakers. I've been here six weeks and I'm thinkin' about committing myself to the nearest asylum."

   "Since Mavis died he's got worse. I reckon it's that Alzheimer's stuff settin' in," Billy Bob said.

   "That's what the doctor says and there's no getting any better. Some days he's barely tolerable. Today is not one of them. He got a burr up his butt this mornin' and the day went from bad to worse. I had to get away or else I was going to give myself a concussion banging my head against the barn door," Jarod said.

   "I hear you, man. Got a grampa just like that over at Morgan Mill. Him and Emmett were sawed out of the same old bull hide leather and they ain't neither one ever goin' to change. They used to have coffee over there at the café a couple of times a week and bitch about the young people and their high-powered ideas."

   "God save us from anything new. Where's your brothers?" Jarod asked.

   Years before, when Aunt Mavis was still living, he'd spent a couple of weeks each summer on the ranch. She'd always invited the Walker triplets over for him to have kids his own age around in those days. Jarod was convinced that if you looked up
redneck
in the dictionary you'd find the Walker triplets' picture. They were identical with their red hair, freckled faces, and green eyes. He'd loved it when they came to the Double M, but he hadn't had time to give them a call since he'd been back in the area. His uncle had demanded every waking moment and lots that should have been sleeping ones as well.

   Billy Bob pointed across the room. "That'd be Jim Bob hugged up to Chigger. He's in love with that woman. One of these days he's goin' to talk her into marryin' him and he'll be one happy fool."

   "I took her for a hooker," Jarod said.

   "Naw, man. A hooker charges. Chigger ain't never charged a dime. She just likes a good roll in the hay and so does Jim Bob. They'll make a good pair if either one of them ever gets their wild oats sowed and settled down."

   "And Joe Bob?" Jarod asked.

   "He's shootin' a little pool. Lost twenty dollars last night, but he's already won it back in the couple of hours we been here. Merle stayed home tonight."

   Jarod raised a heavy black eyebrow. "Who?"

   "Merle Avery. She was one of Ruby's friends, that'd be the woman who built the Honky Tonk and ran it 'til last year when she got killed in a motorcycle wreck. She was seventy and still ridin' a Harley. Anyway, Merle still comes around a couple of times a week to take all Joe Bob's money. She might be past seventy, but she's pure magic with that cue stick. Joe Bob would probably marry her just to learn her tricks," Billy Bob laughed.

   Jarod's nostrils twitched at the idea. "She's almost old enough to be his grandmother."

   "Ah, age is just numbers on paper. How old you think Daisy is?" Billy Bob asked.

   Jarod raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

   "Daisy, the barmaid who owns the Honky Tonk. Ruby, the woman who built the place, left it to her when she died last year," Billy Bob said.

   So her name was Daisy. That sounded just like a redneck barmaid's name. Jarod took another long look down the bar at her. He had never been so attracted to a woman in the first few minutes of meeting her. The word thunderstruck came to mind, but he didn't believe in such folderol.

   Daisy tried so hard to hear the answer that her head pounded. She blamed it on the fall and could have strangled Joe Bob for choosing that minute to yell at her to draw up a beer.

   Jarod didn't even try to mask the calculating stare. Aunt Mavis would just have to understand, and after all, it was just looking. The woman had the body of a kickboxer, no spare fat cells anywhere, and could be anywhere from sixteen to twenty-nine. When her gaze met his, sparks lit up the room between them. Her steely-blue eyes dared him to answer the question. The physical attraction was so strong that his first knee-jerk reaction was to flirt; his second was to run. His third was to trip her, catch her when she fell, and kiss her just to see if those lips were as soft as they looked.

   No way had she seen thirty yet; there wasn't even a tiny little crow's foot wrinkle around those beautiful eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail that swished when she moved from one end of the bar to the other wiping up spills and filling orders. She wore a white tank top with sparkling jewels sewn into the front along the neckline and tight jeans hugging her hind end. Her eyes looked like they could cut a man apart like a laser gun, but those lips were definitely made for kissing. Nice full lips that could have been on a commercial for lipstick.

   "So?" Billy Bob asked.

   It took a minute before Jarod could remember the question. His hands were clammy and his voice husky when he asked, "Why are you askin'?"

   "Because Jim Bob is happy as a piglet in a fresh mud hole when he can talk Chigger into going home with him on Friday and Saturday nights. Joe Bob would be Merle's slave if she'd teach him all she knows about shootin' pool. Daisy O'Dell is my dream gal. I'd probably rob banks or kill for her," Billy Bob said.

   "What's that got to do with how old she is?" Jarod asked.

   "I was just bringin' the conversation around to her, man, so I could tell you how I feel about her. She's a looker and she owns a bar. Now that's a combination that could make a man's heart just plumb ache. Just don't go gettin' no ideas that you might waltz in here and do some serious flirtin'. When the time comes for her to get all serious, it's goin' to be with Billy Bob Walker."

   "So you didn't care a whit about my Uncle Emmett. You came over here to piss on the bar and stake a claim?" Jarod asked.

   Billy Bob chuckled. "Guess I did."

   Daisy pretended to come in at the tail end of the conversation. "You got to piss, you do it in the bathroom."

   "Ah, honey, you know I love you," Billy Bob said.

   "You'd marry Lucifer's sister to get a bar of your own, Billy Bob Walker. Love ain't got a blessed thing to do with anything. Hell's bells, the money you and your brothers spend in here could buy a bar of your own in a year's time. Go on up the road to the Trio or The Boar's Nest and buy one of them if you want a bar," she smarted off. "You need a refill on that beer?" she asked Jarod.

   "No, I reckon one is enough if I'm going to drive back home," he said. He wished she'd argue with Billy Bob some more. Her voice was like maple syrup with a touch of Wild Turkey—fiery and sweet. He wondered if she'd be like that in bed. Good God, he had to get control of his thoughts and stop letting them romp all over the bar.

   "Which is where?" Daisy asked.

   "North of Huckabay, west of Morgan Mill. Right next to the Walker ranch," Jarod said.
Want to go with me?
He touched his forehead. Did he have a slight concussion that caused all of his thoughts to wallow in a gutter?

   Billy Bob waved a hand between their gazes. "I'd build a bar but Chigger and Merle are regulars at the Honky Tonk. You promise me and the boys that they'll change over to the Walker Roadhouse and I'll build one across the road and buy out the Trio and The Boar's Nest to eliminate the competition."

   Daisy cocked her head to one side. "Walker Roadhouse?"

   "Yeah, that's kind of what I had a mind to change the name to once I talk you into marryin' me," he teased.

   "Better not hold your breath on either issue. You look like hell in that shade of blue. I'm runnin' this bar until they carry my cold dead body through the doors and I'll have my fingers wrapped around a longneck bottle of Coors when they do. And honey, this is the Honky Tonk and always will be. Ruby left that in her will. No name changes, so you just scoot your boots on down the road and put in some competition," she said.

   Billy Bob chuckled again and picked up his beer. "Never know what the future might bring. I'm going to find a sweet little thing and dance away part of the beer I've done drunk. Jarod, you tell Uncle Emmett we'll be over and see him someday soon," he said as he headed toward the jukebox.

   Maybe that would make Daisy jealous and she'd see that he was quite a catch. After all, Billy Bob and his brothers owned the Bar W, the most prosperous ranch in Erath County. Jarod might be a shade better looking, but not by much, and neither his bank account nor his pickup truck was as big as the Walker boys.

   Besides all that, Emmett's ranch wasn't going to be worth a damn in a couple of years. Mesquite was taking over and his stock was worthless. By the time Emmett croaked, the Walker men could probably pick up the whole ranch for next to nothing. One thing for sure—if they did, they'd turn it around right quick. That ranch had been the cream of two counties back when Mavis was alive. It would take time and hard work, but it would double the size of what the Walkers already had. Yes, sir, Daisy would wake up someday and see the wisdom in tying the knot with Billy Bob. He wasn't in any hurry. He'd waited seven years. He'd wait a few more.

   Back at the bar Jarod downed the last of the beer, picked up his hat, and slid off the stool. He scanned the floor in case someone else had sloshed beer out of their Mason jar. He wasn't letting a blast of physical attraction overrule his better sense. Like the song playing on the jukebox said, they all got prettier at closing time when a man was drunk off his butt. Some were pretty; some looked like hell. But a barmaid was a barmaid, pretty or not.

   
What in the hell can I be thinking anyway?
he asked himself.
I've got Emmett to take care of and a ranch
that's falling apart at the seams. I wouldn't have time to
date even if she wasn't a barmaid.

   "Don't be a stranger, and tell Emmett we miss him," Daisy said, breaking into his thoughts.

   Jarod looked over his shoulder. "You know my uncle?"

   
Damn it! Those are some sexy eyes. I wonder what
they'd look like right after… she stopped herself fro
m even thinking the next words.

   She cleared her throat and said, "I overheard Billy Bob mention Emmett. He and Mavis used to come in here every Saturday night. He had a draft Miller and she had a longneck Coors. They were almost as good at pool as Merle Avery. Truth is, I was a little surprised that Emmett didn't take up with Merle after Mavis died," she said.

   "Probably because she's too damn smart for that," Jarod said.

   "Ah, he's just old and cantankerous. God only knows how we'll be when we get that old and can't do what we once did. We might be hard to live with too."

   "Hard to live with would be all right. Downright mean is another thing."

   "Well, tell him hello from Daisy."

   Jarod nodded and headed for the door.

   Chigger blew him a kiss.

   Jim Bob shot him a dirty look.

   Billy Bob waved from the dance floor where he was hugged up tight to a lady in a knit shirt that accentuated thirty extra pounds around her midriff. She reminded Jarod of his first fiancée, Sasha, who'd gained fifteen pounds after they were engaged. She went to a fancy spa to lose the weight before the wedding and wound up eloping with her trainer. He wondered as he made his way through the vehicles in the parking lot if she ever lost those extra pounds.