Sweet Harmony (5 page)

Jeff turned his attention to Cat. She lifted her chin and then narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at him once more. She didn’t have to say it, but Jeff knew it was a silent dare.

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

“Excellent,” Rick said. “Based on what I just heard, you two have the potential to be an amazing duo.”

“We agreed to one song,” Cat reminded him with a touch of firmness.

“I know,” Rick said in a light tone and raised both hands. “But you both need to hear that. Trust me, I’m not trying to force you into anything you don’t want to do, but you should be aware of the fact so you can make decisions down the road. Fair enough?”

Jeff looked at Cat and they both nodded.

“Good. Well, the studio is open for the rest of the afternoon if you want to rehearse. If possible, I’d like for you to perform at Sully’s on Friday and get the reaction from a live audience. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure,” Jeff said. Cat nodded again but she didn’t look all that pleased. Jeff understood. He didn’t want to be a damned duo. One song! And that was going to be it.

Got to Get You into My Life

W
HEN PETE LOOKED UP TO SEE MARIA ENTER THE FRONT door of the tavern, his heart started to thud. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed a towel and started wiping down the already clean bar top. Ever since Maria’s return to Cricket Creek last Christmas, Pete had been hoping to find a way to get his ex-wife back into his life. When subtle hints failed to work, Pete decided it was high time to step up his game. He reached up to stroke his beard—a nervous habit he’d formed over the years since Maria had left him—but encountered smooth skin and then he remembered.

That morning he’d shaved.

During the week after Maria had left Cricket Creek for Nashville and Clint had left for college, Pete had let himself go and the result was a beard that he’d ended up keeping for the following seventeen years. After the divorce, beer and bar food became other habits, resulting in weight gain and ultimately health issues.

While Maria visited Cricket Creek for family events, they would only see each other in passing, resulting in a
polite hug and forced smile that would haunt Pete afterward. When Clint didn’t come home from California after he’d failed to get drafted into major-league baseball, Pete had been sure his son would return to Cricket Creek. Instead, Clint chose to stay and coach college baseball. Pete had missed his son like a physical ache. So much anger and words left unspoken had resulted in years of unhappiness and regret. Clint chose to visit his mother occasionally in Nashville, and Pete had heard that Maria had made several trips to California. Visits to Cricket Creek, however, had been few and far between. And when Clint confessed that he’d stayed away because he thought Pete was disappointed that he hadn’t made the major leagues, it had torn Pete apart.

Why hadn’t he reached out to them?

Pete gripped the edge of the bar and closed his eyes.

Foolish pride. It had taken heart problems to knock some sense into Pete. Years of not caring about himself finally reared its ugly head.

The return of Clint last Christmas changed all of that, and Pete now worked out on a regular basis over at the Cricket Creek Cougars baseball stadium, where Clint worked as a coach. Clint had also insisted on adding healthy choices to Sully’s menu and the result was Pete being in the best shape he’d been in for a long-ass time, and it felt damned good.

While Pete wiped the same spot over and over he watched Maria’s progress out of the corner of his eye. She wore dark blue boot-cut jeans and a fitted tan leather jacket that she removed and hung on a row of hooks lining the wall. A crisp white collared shirt was tucked into her jeans, revealing an intricate silver belt buckle studded with turquoise. Maria always did love Western and Native American jewelry, and she looked amazing. Pete reached up and tried to stroke his beard once more and then wondered what Maria would think of his clean-shaven face.

Would she even give a flying fig whether he had a beard or not?

Pete quickly looked down so Maria wouldn’t catch him watching her, but when he heard the heels of her boots clicking across the hardwood floor, he couldn’t resist glancing up.
Damn
. John Jameson, newly elected state representative and oh so full of himself, slinked over and extended his hand toward Maria. She smiled politely and accepted the handshake, but when John clung to her hand and leaned in to say something in Maria’s ear, it was all Pete could do not to hop over the bar and plant his fist in Jameson’s face.

Maria smiled, but when Jameson gestured toward the high-top table he’d been sitting at, she shook her head and pulled her hand away. Pete let out a sigh of relief. Had Maria joined that smarmy-ass politician, Pete didn’t know what he would do but it would most likely not end well. Maria had that look about her that said she wanted no part of his bullshit, but John Jameson’s mouth kept moving. And, although Maria’s smile remained, it looked a bit strained. Pete really wished he could hear what was being said, but the music along with the clanking of pool balls and the dinging of the pinball machine interfered with his ability to listen in on their conversation. Dammit!

Still nodding, Maria glanced around as if looking for someone she knew to help her escape, but happy hour was still a good thirty minutes away, so only a few other patrons were scattered around the room.

Soon people would start pouring in and Pete would crank up the music, but right now all he wanted to do was tug Maria away from Jameson.

Pete sighed again when Maria finally turned on her heel to go but the damned man reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, impeding her progress. Pete felt hot anger wash over him. He tossed his towel down and wondered whether he could still hop over the bar
without doing himself bodily injury—it would be a pretty impressive move. Pete placed one palm on the smooth wood and was wondering how much heft it would take when Maria reached up and deftly removed Jameson’s hand.

“Oh, come on. Just one drink?” Jameson said loudly enough for Pete to hear. “You know you want to, sugar.”

Pete wondered whether the doofus realized that Maria was his wife? Okay, ex-wife, he reminded himself. But seriously, couldn’t the man feel Pete’s gaze boring into his back like a red-hot laser?

“The name is Maria and I said no thank you.” Pete watched Maria raise her eyebrows. When she tilted her head just slightly, Pete wondered what she was about to do. Pete had witnessed similar behavior from Jameson on numerous occasions but Pete thought he might be messing with the wrong woman this time. Was John Jameson about to finally get the slap across the face he so richly deserved?

Pete sure as hell hoped so. He just might have to applaud.

Instead, Maria abruptly turned away. . . .

And Pete’s gaze locked with hers.

Maria’s eyes widened and her mouth parted, making Pete wonder whether she was pissed that he hadn’t intervened, and then he remembered his clean-shaven face. She walked toward him with a slightly bemused expression that he wished he could read. After sliding up onto a barstool, she finally asked, “So what made you shave your beard?”

“You never did like to beat around the bush,” Pete replied, glad that his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt.

“There’s no reason to.” Maria pointed to his face. “So?”

“Ah, just felt like a change.”

“And how does it feel?”

“Cold.”

Maria tilted her head to the side and laughed. God, how he loved the sound. . . . How he missed the sound.

With a move bolder than he felt, Pete leaned across the bar. “Wanna feel how smooth?”

Her eyes widened again and Pete’s heart dropped when it appeared as if she was going to refuse but then she reached up with both palms and cupped his cheeks. She rubbed her thumbs back and forth and nodded. “Somebody replaced your face with a baby’s butt,” she agreed, and Pete wondered whether he imagined a slight breathless tone in her voice. As if reading his thoughts, she abruptly dropped her hands and cleared her throat.

“Can I get you something? An Arnold Palmer?” he asked, making sure she knew he still remembered her favorite mix of lemonade and iced tea.

Maria nodded and then lifted her chin. “I know it’s not five o’clock yet, but add a shot of vodka. The good stuff.”

Pete pointed to a sign hanging on the wall that read: “IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE.”

“Good point.”

Pete nibbled on the inside of his lip. “I just thought of something you might like even better. Are you willing to try?”

“Sure.” She gave a smile that appeared a bit shy, reminding him of the first time he asked her out on a date, and it went straight to his heart.

Pete went in search of some tea-flavored vodka, and after adding a splash of lemonade proceeded to make an Arnold Palmer–flavored martini. He shook the ingredients until it was ice cold and then strained it into a chilled glass that he’d rimmed with sugar. Pete added a curl of lemon zest and placed the fancy concoction in front of her with a flourish.

“Wow, now that’s very pretty,” Maria said, and he was mesmerized as she moved her fingers up and down the
stem of the glass. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip.

“Well?”

“Oh, now this is some good stuff. Could be dangerous,” Maria added and then licked a few grains of sugar clinging to her bottom lip. “You do make an excellent martini, Pete.”

“Thanks. I’m always trying out new recipes. I’ll add this one to the drink list. I’ll call it the Maria Sully Special,” he said, and then wondered how she’d take that comment. He was trying his best to flirt. “Is that okay with you?”

“I think it’s really cool to have a drink named after me.” She lifted her glass. “Maria Sully it is.”

“You forgot the
Special
part.”

Maria flicked a glance at him and smiled. She took another taste. “Ah, it gets better with each sip.”

“Even better with the next glass. There’s more in the shaker. You know what they say about a martini. One martini is all right. Two is too many and three are not enough. James Thurber.”

Maria laughed and then raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”

“I never go jogging. It makes me spill my martini,” Pete said in his best George Burns imitation.

Maria arched an eyebrow. “I like to have a martini, two at the very most. After three I’m under the table; after four I’m under my host. Dorothy Parker,” Maria said with a chuckle.

Pete had another martini quote on the tip of his tongue, but the image of her under the host slammed into his brain and slid south. Judging by the sudden pink in her cheeks, Maria might be thinking something similar. Or perhaps it was just the alcohol, he reasoned. “So what brings you over?” Pete asked, hoping she might say to see him.

Maria reached for the small bowl of peanut mix and,
just as he thought, picked out the sesame sticks. “I wanted to talk to you about starting the songwriters’ showcase here at the tavern that we talked about. An open mic night kind of thing, but not cover songs, only self-written music. Are you interested in getting it off the ground?”

Oh, so this was business. Pete shoved his disappointment to the side and nodded. “I like the idea. We could eventually open up Sully’s South in Restaurant Row.”

“This could get the ball rolling and if we publicize it I think we can get some pretty big names from Nashville.”

“We already have a big name,” Pete said with a smile. He was so damned proud of her accomplishments and wished he’d stood behind her years earlier and not let his pride or fear get in the way. The knowledge that he’d hurt the only woman he’d ever loved plagued him every single day after she left. How many hundreds of times had he picked up the phone to call? Grabbed his truck keys to go after her and bring her back to Cricket Creek, where she belonged? But after Maria became an acclaimed songwriter Pete worried that she would think he wanted her back because of her success.

And so the years passed . . .

Maria smiled, but he saw a haunting sadness in her blue eyes. She dropped her gaze to her drink. “I’d also love to have Cat Carson and Jeff Greenfield here on Friday to debut a duet they’re working on. It if garners good audience appeal then we plan on releasing it as a single.”

“But I thought Jeff had a band.”

“He does. But Jeff is the star and he needs to remember that little detail. Besides, this is just a little experiment.” She picked up another sesame stick.

“So what’s your opinion of them?”

“They’re amazing together. The chemistry is downright explosive. But neither of them is really all that keen on collaborating, especially Jeff. I hope that a strong audience reaction will change their minds. So is it okay?”

“Sure. And, hey, would you like to get together and talk about open mic night over dinner?” Pete’s heart beat rapidly while he waited for her answer. “We could put together some publicity ideas. I’m sure that the
Cricket Creek Courier
will want to do an article. I know Trish Daniels, who writes about local cuisine and entertainment. I can give her a call.”

“Oh, is she a friend of yours?” Maria lowered her eyes and picked up a peanut.

Was Maria jealous? Pete felt a flash of pleasure at the possibility. “Trish did a nice write-up about Sully’s a while back. She raved about my martinis and she was duly impressed that we offer more than traditional bar food and have healthy choices on the menu. Of course, as you know, I can thank Clint for that.”

“Oh, how nice.” She popped another peanut into her mouth and washed it down with a sip of her drink.

Pete hid his grin. “Yeah, but listen to this. Trish wrote a rather bad review of River Row Pizza and Pasta.”

Maria frowned. “I heard the pizza there was delicious.”

“It is. She was there the day they opened and it was a disaster. But get this—I overheard a few days ago that she is engaged to Tony Marino, the owner.”

Maria laughed. “Well, I guess he must have forgiven her.”

Pete risked putting his hand over hers. “Yeah, he sure did.” He cleared his throat. “So how about that dinner, Maria?”

“Do you mean eat here?”

“No.” Pete shook his head. “Maybe we can go to Wine and Diner Saturday night? The Cougars have a day game so Clint can keep an eye on things for me. I’m thinking about hiring more staff. I’d like to get away from here for a night if that’s okay with you?”

“Um, yeah, sure,” Maria finally agreed.

“I’ll even put on a shirt with a collar and wear my
dress boots,” Pete said with a grin. He’d wear a damned suit and tie if that’s what it took to get Maria to spend an evening with him.

“I’m flattered,” Maria said with a crooked smile. “I know how you detest dressing up.”

Pete always dressed up on their wedding anniversary and took her out wherever she wanted to go. He looked at her and his heart constricted. So many lost years. Would she ever even consider taking him back? “Not for you,” he said, and saw her startled expression.

“Pete . . .” She gave him a wary look that hit him in the gut.

“Some things do change, Maria,” he interrupted quietly. He wondered when he would have the nerve, the courage to tell her that he’d never stopped loving her and never would. He wanted to say more but the crowd started pouring in and he was going to have to tend to his customers. This wasn’t the place or time to go there and he told himself to be patient and to earn her trust. He would not, could not
ever
cause her hurt or pain again.