“Because they’re not Dad?”
He sighed. “Yeah.” Lively country music poured into the street and many outside were already dancing. “It would be great if it could be someone from the family, but Greta wants to be a chef, Zay’s got a future as an artist, whether he knows it or not. And Rio….”
“I know. Lacks focus. I wish Jordan?—”
“Not happening.”
“Now that I’ve seen her rig, I get it. She’s invested in her business. She’s not giving it up to work for us.”
“I wouldn’t want her to. She loves it.”
Monty clapped him on the shoulder. “Sorry for your sake. I can tell that you… well, never mind.”
“I can handle it.”
“I know you can.” Monty held his gaze for a moment, his unspoken message clear. He’d be there when the shit hit the fan. No one in the Bridger Bunch suffered alone.
Then he turned toward the Raccoon. “Hey, look at that. We’re almost through the door. Now the challenge is scoring a couple of beers.”
“Not your problem, hermano. I’m buying.” He and Monty plunged into the red, white and blue chaos. An explosion of bunting, streamers, balloons and colored lights continued the celebration’s patriotic vibe.
Clem pulled out all the stops twice a year — New Year’s Eve and Independence Day. Since musicians needed a break between sets, he’d hired a back-up band so the music never stopped.
Technically Clem had three bands, counting the Rockin’ Raccoons. He always made time to show off his animatronic musical trio mounted on a platform over the bar. Tonight they wore Uncle Sam top hats and white whiskers. Where Clem found embellishments like that was a mystery.
The raccoon trio was silent and unmoving now, but periodically during the night Clem would signal the band to pause before playing the next tune. Then he’d get on the mic, bellow Give it up for the Raccoooons and flip a switch.
Those little critters would take it from there, plucking the bass strings, playing the fiddle and pounding on the ivories. The Rockin’ Raccoon theme song always brought folks to their feet to clap and sing along.
Luis cherished every bit of it. That didn’t mean he wanted to stay a minute more than was necessary. Any other year he’d be among the last to leave. Now he wouldn’t mind being the first.
But he had to play it cool. He’d promised Monty a beer, and the crowd at the bar was four deep.
He glanced at his brother. “Wanna see if the Bunch has a table staked out?”
“Will do.” He split off, heading left into the packed dining area.
Luis turned toward the bar and came face-to-face with Jordan holding a mug of beer in each hand.
She looked as startled as he was. “Hey!” Her cheeks turned pink.
“Hey, yourself. Where’s your H&H hat?” Was that the best he could do? Comment on her lack of headgear?
“I left it at the table. My head was getting hot.”
“Oh.” He’d apply that description to all of her. Even dressed in a loose-fitting T-shirt and jeans, she was the sexiest woman he’d ever come across.
“I was wondering if I’d see you at all tonight. It’s been crazy.”
“Always is.” He couldn’t stop looking into those sparkling blue eyes. They were telegraphing all the things. Arousing his body and hijacking his brain. “I… um… save me a dance, okay?”
She smiled. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“I have no idea. It’s something guys say. I guess we’re trying to find out if you’ll say yes when we ask you or shut us down.”
“I’ll say yes.” She lifted the mugs. “I should probably?—”
“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” He’d blocked her forward progress. Stepping aside, he tipped his hat. “Didn’t mean to keep you from delivering those.”
