Stay with Me Forever (Bayou Dreams Book 6) Page 8

  Some people would have probably labeled her as bitter back in those days, but Paxton thought realistic was a better adjective. She had always been an outsider looking in.

  She’d wanted to go to dances. She’d wanted to join their clubs and go to slumber parties. She’d even wanted to be a cheerleader, although Paxton would rather walk down Main Street stark naked in the middle of the homecoming parade before she admitted that secret to anyone.

  She could still remember practicing in her room when she was home alone. She’d wanted to be a cheerleader because, back then, Sawyer Robertson only dated cheerleaders. She wanted to be the kind of girl that Sawyer would want to have on his arm.

  But she wasn’t that girl. She had never been that girl.

  And Shayla actually thought she would put herself through the misery of attending the homecoming game this Friday?

  As if!

  She could do without any reminders of the Paxton she used to be in high school. She’d rather focus on the Paxton she was today—strong, independent, financially stable—and in no danger of falling for girlhood dreams that were not likely to ever come true.

  Chapter 5

  Belinda walked up to the bar and tapped twice on the freshly polished surface. “I need two pitchers of Abita Purple Haze,” she called.

  “Coming up,” Paxton returned. She snatched two plastic beer pitchers from under the bar and filled them with the popular local brew. As she set both on a tray and pushed it toward Belinda, Paxton couldn’t help but laugh. “Look at you,” she said, gesturing to her own mouth. “You think that smile can get any bigger?”

  “No,” her mother said. She stuck her tongue out at Paxton before carting the pitchers of beer to one of the crowded tables.

  They were all having a hard time containing their smiles tonight. Gauthier had turned out in droves to support the official grand opening of the River Road Bar and Grille, although, as she predicted, everyone was still referring to it as Harlon’s. She didn’t care. Paxton couldn’t decide whether to cry tears of joy or break out in her happy dance. She would likely do both before the end of the night, but right now she was so busy she hardly had a chance to breathe.

  Donovan, who Paxton had to admit had been a godsend tonight, backed his way out of the kitchen’s swinging door, his arms loaded with baskets of hot wings.

  “Jessie needs that flour, Pax,” he called to her.

  Dammit. Paxton snapped her fingers. “Tell her I’m on it,” she said.

  “On what?” Belinda asked as she squeezed sideways through the tiny opening that led to the back of the bar. The next phase of renovations would include one of those hinged bar flaps.

  “I need to run to my car before Jessie has a coronary,” Paxton told her. “The extra flour she asked me to pick up is in there. I didn’t think we’d need it before the game even started.”

  “Go on,” Belinda said. “I’ve got this. I don’t want anyone having to wait on wings.”

  Paxton concurred. They needed to keep the clientele happy and fed. Many of the people here could just have easily given their business to the national restaurant chain that had opened in Maplesville several weeks ago. She’d never admit it out loud, but inwardly Paxton had been nervous as hell that the new place would take business away from her mother’s, making it a failure before it ever got off the ground.

  She never should have doubted the people of Gauthier, especially those from Landreaux.

  She ran out to her car, and with Donovan there to help, carried in the fifty-pound sack of flour that would be used to coat the chicken wings that were flying out of the kitchen at a record pace. Once she was sure that everything was under control, both in the kitchen and behind the bar, Paxton went out to clear tables and greet patrons.

  As she looked out over the crowd her chest filled with so much pride she thought her fitted River Road Tavern T-shirt would bust at the seams. Pride not only for her mother but for her entire community.

  She’d always had a love-hate relationship with this town, based mainly on her issues with the way some of the people in Gauthier had looked down on her mother. Although it wasn’t as taboo anymore, in a small town like Gauthier back in the late 1970s, teenage pregnancy was still a shunable offense, especially when you pinned the pregnancy on someone many would feel was above your station.

  Once Paxton was old enough, Belinda told her about the gossip that had floated around town when she’d become pregnant, but she was never ashamed of her daughter, and she never held a grudge against the town over the way they’d treated her. Paxton had not been so generous or forgiving. Bitterness still lingered when she thought of her mother being ostracized simply because she’d made the mistake of falling for the wrong boy.

  Tonight, however, went a long way in soothing the resentment Paxton still clung to. There were some in Gauthier who likely whispered behind both her and Belinda’s backs, but for the most part, these were good people. They stood up for their own and were always eager to show their support.

  As she cleared empty glasses and plates from the tables, Paxton thanked those who had come to tonight’s grand opening.

  Everyone in the room stood and voices quieted as an ROTC from one of the local colleges performed the “Star-Spangled Banner” on the eight large-screen televisions that were, of course, all tuned into the much-anticipated Monday Night Football game between the New Orleans Saints and the Atlanta Falcons. They remained standing through the coin-toss and the kickoff.

  On the very first play of the game, one of the Saints’ defensive players intercepted the Falcons’ quarterback’s pass. The room went wild, and Paxton said a quick prayer that the place didn’t fall off its pilings as it shook with the cheers and foot stomping.

  She looked toward the bar and caught Belinda’s smile. It was so wide Paxton knew her cheeks were probably hurting.

  From the moment she had signed the bill of sale and handed over the deed, Paxton had anticipated seeing the look she saw right now on her mother’s face. It made every cent worth it. Although no amount of money could ever repay her mother for the sacrifices she’d made.

  Belinda would argue that Paxton had made her share of sacrifices as well, with all the nights and weekends she’d given up to work next to her in this bar, but Paxton had never looked at it that way. They were a team. They always had been.

  And, finally, the teamwork was paying off.

  Paxton returned to her place behind the bar. It had been well over a year since she’d poured drinks, but it had come back to her with amazing ease. She topped off several shot glasses, mixed up a frozen strawberry daiquiri in the high-powered blender she’d purchased and served up two more pitchers of beer.

  As she wiped condensation from the bar, she looked up and noticed Sawyer walking toward her. Her heartbeat tripled as she followed his easy stride toward the bar. His dark blue jeans gripped his solid, sure thighs, and the black polo shirt molded to his taut chest. Goodness, but he looked delicious.

  “What are you doing here?” Paxton asked when he approached, slinging the dish towel over her shoulder.

  A slow grin spread across his face as he slid onto a bar stool. “You ask that to everybody in here tonight?”

  “No, smart-ass,” she said. “But this is a bit of a drive for you.”

  “It was worth the drive to show my support for tonight’s grand opening. I know how hard you and your mom worked to make this happen.”

  There went that flutter again. The warm, cozy sensation spread throughout her chest. “Thank you,” she said. “I really appreciate the support.”

  “My pleasure.” Paxton could feel the heat climbing up her cheeks as his eyes traced over her face. Was she actually blushing?

  Sawyer looked over his shoulder. “Nice crowd in here tonight.”

  “I know,” Paxton said, unable to contain her exci
tement. “I was hoping for a decent turnout, but this is so far beyond my expectations. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am.”

  “You don’t have to. Your eyes are sparkling. So are your mom’s,” Sawyer said, nodding toward Belinda, who was talking to Janice and Melvin Hodges. Paxton had always thought the couple was too religious to ever step foot in a bar, but apparently they had decided to face damnation so they could support her mother’s new business.

  “She is having the time of her life,” Paxton said.

  “How about you?” Sawyer asked. “Was it worth all the money and effort?”

  She returned her attention to him with a triumphant smile. “Every single penny.”

  His eyes dropped to her lips, and the air between them was suddenly saturated with a heavy dose of desire.

  “That smile looks so good on you,” he said in a mesmerizingly seductive voice.

  “I—thank you,” Paxton replied.

  Thank you? Was that the best she could come up with?

  His eyes glittered with amusement as a slight smile tilted up the corner of his mouth. He shook his head. “You’re stubborn as hell, but you won’t be able to fight this much longer.”

  No further explanation was needed to spell out what he meant by this. They both knew what he was talking about, but he was right; she was stubborn as hell, and she was not going down without a fight.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” she said as she wiped down the bar with the towel she’d slung over her shoulder.

  Sawyer leaned forward, rising up from his bar stool. “But why fight it?” he asked. “Just think about it. If you’re going back to Little Rock at the end of this project, what’s the harm in us being together while you’re here?”

  She was ashamed to admit how tempted she was at the thought of doing just that.

  “Think about it,” he prodded. “We have three weeks left. There’s a lot we can do in that time.”

  “Stop tempting me,” she said.

  One deliciously sexy brow arched. “So you are tempted?” He leaned in even closer, putting his mouth against her ear. “Now that you’ve admitted it, you do know I’m just going to try harder to convince you, don’t you, Paxton?”

  A shudder coursed through her body at his sexy promise. God, but she wanted him.

  So why not take what he was offering?

  Things were completely different from three years ago. The guilt that had plagued her over taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable and suffering was a nonfactor this time.

  “Pax, any idea where the margarita salt is?”

  She jerked away from Sawyer and turned to her mother.

  And was caught totally off guard by the look on her mother’s face. Her previously smiling eyes were full of caution and mistrust.

  What in the world is going on here?

  “The salt?” her mother asked again, her dubious gaze still centered on Sawyer.

  “It’s in the storage room,” Paxton said. “I put it on the top shelf.”

  She turned back to Sawyer and hooked a thumb toward where her mother had just stood. “You have any idea what that was about?”

  Sawyer shrugged. “Maybe she wasn’t expecting to see me here, either. You know, like mother, like daughter.”

  That could have possibly been it, but Paxton wasn’t so sure. She couldn’t deny that he stuck out like a bruised and battered thumb. Many of the people here worked for Sawyer’s family at the lumber mill. Now that his father was no longer around, that meant they worked for Sawyer.

  Interestingly enough, Paxton didn’t detect even a hint of the veiled animosity that often hovered between bosses and employees. Several people approached the bar to thank Sawyer for some incentive program instituted at the mill. Others just wanted to shake his hand. The interactions were a testament to the respect the workers held for the Robertson family, and vice versa.

  Paxton got that funny feeling in her stomach again, the one that suggested that maybe she’d judged Sawyer unjustly. She was certain that if she thought long and hard enough, she would be able to recall an incident back during their days at Gauthier High when Sawyer had earned the spoiled, arrogant rich-boy label she’d placed on him. But for the life of her she could not remember a single one.

  Had she been wrong this entire time?

  Could that mean she was also wrong about other things, like not believing Shayla when she said Sawyer had always been interested in her?

  Her stomach twisted with the plethora of doubt and hopefulness swirling through it.

  The Saints game ended in a heartbreaker, with the Atlanta Falcons returning the favor of that earlier interception and running it back for a touchdown. Their touchdown, however, came in the last two minutes of the game and handed them the victory.

  Despite the loss, the crowd remained upbeat, and just about everyone came up to Paxton and Belinda to tell them how much they enjoyed themselves, and how they planned to be back on Saturday for the LSU football game. Her regulars all promised to be back tomorrow. Now that Harlon’s—Paxton had just accepted it would never shake that name—served real food, she suspected it would acquire a larger set of regulars.

  “It’s pretty late,” Sawyer said when she returned to the bar. “How much longer are you staying?”

  “We have to clean up.”

  “Do you need any help?”

  Paxton couldn’t keep the incredulousness off her face if she tried. She didn’t try.

  “What?” Sawyer asked. “I have washed dishes before, you know.” He pulled the towel from her shoulder and snapped it on the bar top. “I can bust suds with the best of them.”

  Her sharp laugh was so loud she drew the attention of several of the people still lingering around the bar.

  “You don’t believe me—do you?” Sawyer asked.

  “I’m trying to picture it.” She looked him up and down. “No, I really don’t see you rolling up your sleeves and—how did you put it? Busting suds?”

  “You’ve pegged me all wrong,” he said. He leaned in closer and whispered against her ear again, “I’m going to have fun changing the way you see me.”

  Decadent shivers of need cascaded along her skin as her body screamed, Let him!

  “Now, do you need help or don’t you?” Sawyer asked.

  “No, she doesn’t.” Donovan appeared from seemingly out of nowhere, sidling up next to her and clamping his arm around her shoulder. His six-foot-two frame towered over her, much like Sawyer’s. He puffed his chest out. “I’m here to help her. It’s my job.”

  Paxton rolled her eyes as she disengaged from his hold.

  Sawyer hooked a thumb at Donovan. “Is this Harlon’s grandson that you used to babysit back in high school? The one who bit Mr. Washington the year he posed as Santa Claus?”

  “Yes, it is,” Paxton said with a laugh. “I can’t believe you remember that.”

  Donovan was not so amused. He gave Sawyer an assessing look from head to toe, a slow and pissed-off perusal. Paxton couldn’t help but chuckle. This poor kid really thought he had a chance with her. She didn’t know whether to be charmed or exasperated by him on any given day.

  “I appreciate both offers to help, but I think we’ve got things under control. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow,” she told Sawyer. She looked over at Donovan. “You did a good job tonight, but you should go home and check on your grandpa.”

  “He’s okay,” Donovan said.

  “Well, then, just go home and get some rest.”

  “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone,” he said. And, of course, he winked.

  If she could get away with it, she would superglue his eyes shut.

  “Are you really putting me out, too?” Sawyer asked.

  “Yes,” she said, taking him by the hand and tu
gging him toward the exit. She walked him to his car, which was one of the last remaining in the parking lot. It was a good thing he was driving his dad’s Buick. His luxury car would have stood out among the dusty pickup trucks and dented sedans.

  “So, have you thought about what I suggested?” Sawyer asked.

  She cocked her head to the side. “Refresh my memory again?”

  “Me, you and three weeks of no-strings-attached fun before you go back to Little Rock.”

  “Oh, that.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m too tired to think up a good excuse to say no. Ask me again tomorrow, when I’m well rested and on my game.”

  He ran his hand along her hair. “There’s only one answer I’ll accept, and no isn’t it.”

  “Good night, Sawyer. Thank you again for coming out here tonight.”

  “Maybe I’ll become a regular,” he said. “Especially now that I know I have competition.”

  She chuckled. “If you’re talking about Donovan, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Maybe I’ll become a regular, anyway,” he said. “Just because the more you see me, the harder it will be for you to turn me down.” He leaned in closer to her, his lips nearly touching hers. “I’m going to make you see the real me, Pax. That’s a promise.”

  She suffered through a full-body shudder.

  Could she want him any more than she did right now? Impossible.

  He got into the Buick and slowly backed away; the loose gravel kicked up from underneath the tires.

  Paxton stood there for several minutes, giving herself time to come down from the stimulating high she’d been on since Sawyer had walked through the door. She returned to the kitchen to help Belinda and Jessie clean. Even though they were all exhausted, they were done in less than an hour.

  As she and her mother crossed the pasture, heading for their trailer—Heinz trotting alongside them—they chatted about the success of opening night. Paxton’s chest was so filled with pride she feared it would burst wide-open. Belinda’s excitement was palpable. Paxton couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her so animated. So happy.