Rescue Me (Butler Island) (6 page)

Chapter 9

Enveloped in a thick cloud of haze, Lana sat at a high
bar table wedged in the corner of the smoke-filled room, alternately chatting
with Olivia and sipping her mixed drink while Grant and Randall rivaled in
another round of eight-ball. She’d fought the urge to phone her parents to
check on Connor numerous times in the hour since her arrival. She knew he was
in capable hands, but relinquishing control—even for one night—was still
difficult to do.

Losing Jimmy had been out of her control. And somewhere
deep inside the recesses of her mind she concluded that as long as Connor was
within sight, she’d be able to keep him safe. Her theory was probably
unrealistic, she knew. Because when a person fulfilled their time on this
earth, no amount of careful observation could save them. But that certainly
didn’t obscure her half-baked rationale.

Music spewed from the speakers, an eclectic mix of
classic rock and fast-paced country tunes, causing Lana’s toes to tap against
the bottom rung of her wood stool. It took a conscious effort not to squirm in
her seat as Luke Bryan’s voice serenaded, requesting country girls to shake
their tushes. God, she missed dancing. Missed how her mind would go blank and
her body’s sixth sense simply took over.

To her right, Olivia sat with her arms raised above her
head, snapping her fingers to the melody, mouthing the lyrics to the catchy
chorus.

“We should dance!” Olivia suggested over the roar of the
music.

“Maybe later.” She’d purposely kept her response
vague—that way, she wouldn’t feel guilty when it was suggested again. And she
knew it would be at some point.

“Okay.”

The lights dimmed as the upbeat rhythm transitioned into
a slow country ballad, beckoning couples to the rectangular dance floor like
moths to a flame. “Hey, Womack”, Olivia shouted, “you ’bout done yet?” Hopping
off her stool, she sauntered up to Grant and pried the cue stick from his
hands.

“Livvey, baby, we’re in the middle of a game, here.”

“Oh, quit actin’ like you’ve got a chance in hell at
winnin’.” Olivia latched onto the front of his shirt and tugged. “C’mon.”

Randall laid his cue stick along the edge of the pool
table and plopped his rear end on the stool Olivia had vacated moments ago. He
took a healthy gulp of Miller Lite, then turned his attention to the pretty
brunette to his left. “Having fun?”

“A lot.”

He eyed her over his glass while he took another sip.
“That so?”

“Uh-huh.”

It was a whopper of an answer. And he wondered if her
response was meant to put his mind at ease, or her own. He wasn’t going to call
her out on her obvious lie—not yet, anyway. Changing the subject, Randall
gestured over his shoulder at the dance floor with his thumb. “Think I might’ve
lost my pool partner.”

Lana diverted her attention to Olivia and Grant, locked
in a lover’s embrace. They’d married in early spring in a simple ceremony along
the stretch of surf behind Grant’s beach house. They’d looked so in love that
day, and as Lana observed them swaying on the dance floor tonight, she sensed
their feelings for one another had only continued to ripen. “They look really
happy…”

He didn’t need to look over his shoulder again to know
the two newlyweds were mashed up against one another, practically hypnotized by
their close proximity. Just like he didn’t need to look at Lana’s angelic face
to know she was thinking of Jimmy. “Yeah, they’re a good fit.” Propping his
elbow on the table, Randall rubbed the course stubble along his cheek with the
back of his fingers. “Surprised you haven’t ventured out to the dance floor
yet.”

Chipping away the teal polish painted on her nails, she
shrugged. “Guess I just, you know… haven’t had the urge.”

“Are you shittin’ me?” He asked incredulously. “I saw you
over here squirming in your seat, your boots just-a-tappin’—it’s in your
bones.”

“You’re crazy, you know that? You saw no such thing,
you’ve been busy playing pool. Or don’t you remember…?”

“Trust me, I
definitely
remember.” And he was
likely to never forget how her body had subtly swayed to the melody, her bottom
fidgeting about on the hard wooden stool. A man would have to be damn near
blind not to have noticed.

The soothing sound of steel guitar faded, replaced by a
heavy thump of beating drums, followed by an unmistakable electric guitar
intro. Randall stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the dance floor as
John Mellencamp’s
Hurt So
Good
began, stirring a craving deep in
his gut he couldn’t quite name. Standing, he offered his hand. “C’mon.”

“What?—
no
!”

“Huh-uh, I’m not taking no for an answer. Dance with me…”

It’d taken every ounce of courage she owned to be here
tonight. In fact she was quite proud of the forward progress she’d made thus
far—albeit a tiny baby step. Panic coursed through her veins, but one look into
Randall’s gray eyes shoved it down.

You’re not alone, you can do this
...

 Lana accepted his offer with trembling hands, allowing
Randall to guide her down from the stool she’d occupied since her arrival, to
the adjacent crowded dance floor.

It took a few moments to loosen up, but when she finally
let go, allowed her tense body to unravel, something magical happened:
questions, doubts, worry, and fear dissipated. And in its wake, Lana saw a
glimpse of the lively woman she used to be.

Randall spun her around as they traveled the dance floor.
He was a really good dancer—taking the lead, yet still allowing her an
opportunity to unleash her creative finesse. He was right: dancing was in her
bones. And she had an inkling it was just the kind of therapy her body needed
to mend itself.

She was blossoming before his very eyes, a contented smile
spreading across her pink lips. Admittedly, Randall had done a lot of wrong
things in his life. But this?—this felt good. His heart quivered when he
realized what he’d managed to do here tonight. Lana had taken another step,
entrusting him to lead her.

He hadn’t known until that very moment how much her trust
would mean. How the simple gesture of taking his hand moments ago would rescue
him from the arms of anguish.

“…
Hey baby, it’s you, come on, girl, now, it’s you

Sink your teeth right through my bones, baby
…”

Randall spun Lana around, then firmly gathered her in his
arms. This no longer felt like a one-sided arrangement. Holding Lana while
their bodies swayed patched the gaping hole in his heart. And while he still
felt considerably empty, he couldn’t help but wonder if this woman was his
ticket to contentment.

“…
Hurt so good

Come on baby, make it hurt so good
…”

Maybe he didn’t have to be tough all the time. Maybe this
incredibly strong woman could be his rock, too.

A slap on the back startled him as the song came to an
end. Randall turned to find Grant by his side.

“Hate to skirt out early, but I just got a call from Ty.
Kendall’s water broke. They’re already at Mainland Hospital. We’re heading over
there now.”

“Oh, wow”, Lana began. “I’m sure Ty’s probably freaking
out right about now!”

“Yeah, that’s an understatement! Listen”—Grant shouted
over the music as he turned to Lana—“we can drop you off at your house if—”

“That’s not necessary. I’m sure I can catch a ride home
with somebody.”

“I’ll drive you home”, Randall offered.

Lana turned to face him, baffled by his generous offer.
“Wait—you’re not heading over there with Grant and Liv?”

“Nope, wasn’t plannin’ on it… Your call: I can either
take you home now, or we can stay.” Randall eyed her for a few long beats. He
could see the gears-a-turning in her brain as she carefully considered her
choices. He figured she’d probably call it a night. After all, she’d conquered
many firsts tonight.

“I think I’ll stay for a bit—I mean, if you’re sure it’s
okay.”

“Of course, it is.”

Lana turned to Grant. “Give Kendall and Ty my best.”

“Will do. I’ll have Olivia call you once we have some
news.” Grant squeezed through the crowd toward the bar where Olivia stood
waiting for him. She gave a quick wave to Lana and Randall before disappearing
behind a sea of line dancers near the front segment of the dance floor.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? I’m sure I can find
someone else to—”

“I’m positive”, he reassured her.

“But she’s one of your best friends. Figured you’d want
to be there, you know?”

Randall shrugged. What could he say? He’d bared his soul,
as well as his naked body, to Kendall two summers ago, confessing how he’d
fallen for her. He’d done all he could—short of begging her—to give him a
chance. But she hadn’t wanted that. Instead, she’d pursued a
friends-with-benefits relationship with his lieutenant, Ty Everitt.

“It’s complicated.” There was no need in rehashing the
past. Their friendship had withstood the blow of her marriage to Ty, but he’d
be lying if he said it hadn’t suffered irreparable damage. “How ’bout we get
another drink?”

“Only if you promise to dance with me again later”, Lana
countered.

“I think I can manage that.”

The crowd had thinned considerably by the time Randall
and Lana ordered their last shot of tequila. “Okay”, she uttered, wincing as
liquid warmth swam down her throat. “I think I’m done, now.”

Slamming his empty shot glass on the shellacked bar, he
smiled. “I think that’d be wise.” Randall raised his hand above his head,
motioning for the bartender. “Cashin’ out, Dan.”

“Be right with you.” Dan appeared moments later, placing
the check face down on the bar.

Lana reached into her purse for her wallet. “Here, let
me—”

“Hell, no—put your money away! Tonight’s on me.”

“Randall, we drank a ton of tequila! The tab’s gonna be—”

“The tab’s taken care of”, he assured her as he placed
his credit card on the bar. “Don’t worry”—he winked—“I’ll let you buy me a beer
next time.”

Next time
… Lana tucked her hair behind her ear, unsure what to do
with her hands, knowing her cheeks were probably ten shades of pink.
Why was
it suddenly so hot in here
?

Dan swiped Randall’s card from the table and slid it
through a groove along the side of the register. He waited for the receipt to
finish printing before returning both paper and plastic to the bar top.

She watched as Randall scribbled his name on the receipt,
returned his credit card to its rightful slot, then shoved his wallet into the
back pocket of his faded blue jeans.

“Ready?” Randall asked.

Lana tore her eyes from his backside, praying he hadn’t
noticed. “Uh, yeah. I’m ready.”

The short drive from The Saloon to her small home on the
west side of the island was driven in near silence. Good. Because she wasn’t
entirely confident she’d be able to hear him much anyway over the roar of her
rapid pulse.

The headlights illuminated the cold wet pavement, puddles
near the road’s edges glistening like twinkling stars. They made a left onto
her street, kicking her nerves into overdrive—although why she couldn’t say.
She glanced at her hands just as Randall turned in to her driveway, flecks of
teal polish scattered along her lap.

“And we’re here”, he announced as he shoved the gear in
PARK
. “You okay? You’re not gonna throw up in my truck, are
you?”

“No, I-I feel”—
restless
—“fine…” The steady hum of
the idling engine surrounded their bodies, which ironically only seemed to
further enhance the silence lurking between them. Butterflies assaulted her
insides, her heart galloping to a hasty tempo.

God, she was nervous.
Why was she suddenly so nervous
?
“Well, um, thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

She stared at him a moment longer, laid back in his seat,
completely unaware of the static currently wreaking havoc on her brain. “Okay,
so… yeah, guess I’ll see you later.” Clumsily she reached for her purse, only
instead of gripping the leather bag, she somehow managed to knock it over. A
medley of items spilled from the cleft, finally coming to rest along the floor
board. “Shit”, she mumbled.

“And the mystery of what you girls carry in these damn
things are finally revealed”, Randall uttered as he picked up a small spool of
black thread. After tossing it into her purse he gathered more items,
desperately trying to suppress his growing grin.