“Oh, well now, that poses a real problem.” Cameron chuckled. “I can’t run this place by myself. You have superpowers and protect me from spiders and make me believe in signs, miracles, and magic.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but Jorja is not going to disgrace the family by owning or working in a place like this. Call it an intervention or a kidnapping or whatever you want, but if I have to hog tie you and strap you to the top of your car, I will take you home.” Abigail shot daggers by turn at each of them.
Jorja finished making the food and set it in front of Abigail. “Eat this and then go through that door right there and take a nap on my bed. You’ll know which one it is by the look of it. We’ll talk at two o’clock when Cameron and I close up the place and, honey, the universe has spoken to me. Who am I to refuse to listen when something that big and important tells me this is where I belong.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Abigail bit into a hot onion ring. “I don’t trust you not to go somewhere and hide, and what do you mean, I’ll know your bed? Are you sleeping in the same room with this man?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am, and I think I remember telling you that already,” Jorja answered.
Chigger sat down on the stool right beside Abigail and nudged her with her shoulder. “I’m Chigger and, honey, if she wasn’t sharing the Honky Tonk apartment with Cameron, I’d give my brand-new engagement ring back to Frankie and offer to share more than a room with him. Jorja, darlin’, would you get me and Frankie an order of fries? We done worked up an appetite out there on the dance floor.”
The grease sizzled when Jorja sank the basket of frozen fries into it, but it couldn’t possibly sizzle as much as the temper she was holding inside of her. How dare her sister show up and think she could control her life! Jorja was almost thirty years old, by damn, and she’d lived on her own for more than a decade. No one had come to Nashville and tried to force her to go back to Hurricane Mills when she took the job with an obscure country music label.
“What are you going to do?” Cameron whispered as he got two longneck Coors from the refrigerator.
“My job,” Jorja answered, “and ignore my sister. If she wants to get blisters on her butt sitting there, then she can live with the pain of them all the way back to Tennessee. Maybe enough drunk cowboys will hit on her that she’ll give up and go take a nap.”
Nothing or no one could have convinced Jorja more quickly that she was right where she needed to be, and where she intended to stay, than Abigail showing up and making her demands. Jorja liked working with Cameron, loved living with him, and really liked the way his kisses jacked up her pulse. The devil himself, wearing a black Stetson and tight blue jeans, and riding a big white horse would have a fight on his hands if he even thought he could drag Jorja back to Tennessee.
Jorja and Cameron were swamped for the next four hours. She didn’t have time to talk to Abigail, and her sister didn’t budge off the stool—not even to make a trip to the ladies’ room. Only a few die-hards were still at the bar when Cameron pointed at the clock.
“Time to close, guys. Wishing all y’all one more Merry Christmas,” Cameron said.
They stumbled to the coatrack beside the door and retrieved their jackets. Cameron locked the door behind them and then sank down in a chair as far away from the bar as possible.
Traitor, Jorja thought, you could come on over here and give me some support.
“Why don’t y’all get something cold to drink, and we’ll visit?” he said.
Abigail’s high heels sounded like pops from a .22 rifle as she made her way across the wooden floor. Jorja grabbed a diet root beer and two bottles of Coors from the refrigerator and carried them to the table.
“I’m not leaving.” Jorja set the drinks down and pulled a chair over closer to Cameron.
“I hate to admit it, but I understand.” Abigail sighed.
“Are you drunk or sleep-deprived?” Jorja asked.
“No, I just got my eyes opened tonight.” Abigail got up and hugged her sister. “Cameron, would you mind if Jorja and I talked privately?”
“Not one bit.” He picked up one of the beers. “I’ll go get my shower while you ladies visit, and I’ll be glad to sleep on the sofa in the office if Abigail wants to spend the night.”
“Thank you.” Abigail nodded.
Jorja waited until he was out of the room before she glared at her sister. “What did you and Mama think gave you the right to do something like this? I’m a grown woman, and I can make my own decisions.”
“We love you, and this seemed so”—Abigail struggled with the right word—“so crazy. Hanging out in a bar in the middle of nowhere in Texas with a man you’d never met before, and that’s before we even knew y’all were living together. What would you have done if you had a daughter and she was doing this?”
“I hope I would trust her enough to make her own decisions and support her in them.” Jorja twisted the cap off her beer and took a long drink.
“Well, I hope one of my girls never puts me to this test.” Abigail eyed the beer, but finally took a sip of her root beer. “I’m not staying here tonight. I’m going back to Fort Worth as soon as I finish this root beer and use the ladies’ room.”
“Why? What changed your mind?” Jorja asked.
“You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.” Abigail’s cheeks turned slightly red.
“Probably, but I already think you’re insane for flying out here on Christmas with the intention of kidnapping me, so spit it out,” Jorja said.
“It’s the way that Cameron looks at you,” Abigail said. “Daddy still looks at Mama like that, and the second thing is that you are happy. I can see it in your face when you’re working, and I heard you humming a couple of times.”
“I had to hum to calm myself down. I wanted to climb on top of the bar and kick you off that barstool.” Jorja was pretty sure that her sister was creating an excuse to tell their mother so she wouldn’t be in trouble for not bringing her errant younger sister back with her. “You are right on one count. I am happy. I don’t have to worry about deadlines or what people think of my work. I just have to show up, draw beer, and man the grill. Cameron and I get along famously well, and we like each other a lot.”
“I can see that, and I believe he’s a good man. If he’s not, I trust you to take care of things.” Abigail finished off her root beer. “I’m going home. I’ve already called, and an Uber will be here in ten minutes to take me back to the airport. I can get an early-morning flight out of Fort Worth and be home in time to have leftovers for lunch. I’ll pave the way for when you bring Cameron home to ask Daddy for your hand in marriage.”