Page 64 of Love Me Darkly
Once he fell silent, he realized how morbid his words sounded. They were the fatalistic thoughts of a man who could die any day. The awareness of his mortality had been driven home the day of Mari’s death—the day the UNSUB ripped him open and filled his lungs with blood.
And then, for reasons he couldn’t understand—maybe due to some deep need to have her understand him—he added, “The night I met Mari, I walked right up to her and told her she was the future Mrs. Garcia. She laughed in my face. We got married six months later.”
He saw the flash of Melody’s smile in his peripheral vision.
“That’s beautiful,” she declared.
“We’re here,” he said, turning into the parking lot of The Copper Rose.
Melody pressed close to the window to read the marquis and inspect the building. The weathered wooden facade gleamed under the warm glow of string lights. The sprawling exterior didn’t look like much, its rough cedar siding faded to soft gray with hints of coppery orange where the sun had roasted it over the years. A wide, wraparound porch framed the front entrance, and shadowed bodies milled about, cigarette smoke wafting under the awning into the night air. As he shut off the engine and killed the radio, the twang of country music penetrated the open sunroof.
“I should have known you were a Texas girl before I even read your file,” he said at the shocked but delighted look on her face. “You say ‘y’all’ when you’re addressing multiple people, and then there were the records in your apartment?—”
Mateo’s words choked off on a grunt as she threw herself over the center console, practically sprawled in his lap, and threw her arms around his neck. A half dozen kisses fell against his cheek and jaw, and Mateo’s chest swelled with pride. His baby girl was pleased.
“You brought me to a country club?”
He kissed her back and grinned. “I did. See, I told you. Not Korenic’s scene.”
“Not even a little bit,” she agreed, smiling.
Mateo pushed his door open and rounded the car to let her out. He helped her into her denim jacket now that the night had cooled significantly. Threading his fingers through hers, he tugged her along toward The Copper Rose. He’d visited the spot with his old battle brothers back in the day, and had been pleasantly surprised to search it up online and discover it was still thriving. Anticipation lightened his steps as they approached the club.
“Come on, baby girl. I’m going to dance you dizzy.”
Melody and Mateo stayed at The Copper Rose until the last song was played, and only a few couples remained on the dance floor. Until after last call. Until Melody was breathless and flushed. Until she felt certain she was still sleeping in that car and had dreamed the whole thing. But her sore feet and pounding heart told her she was very much awake.
They arrived to find the club crowded from wall to wall. Mateo kept a tight hand at her waist as he’d led her to the bar, using his broad shoulders and intimidating stare to clear a space for them. Leaning against the counter, he caught the attention of the bartender and leaned in to place an order. He didn’t bother to ask what she might want, but Melody wasn’t the least bit shocked when the bartender placed a peach daiquiri on a napkin in front of her. Mateo accepted a Scotch, neat, and eyed her over the glass as she took her first sip. The daiquiri was perfect, not too strong but strong enough that she knew they hadn’t skimped on the rum. Each icy gulp helped cool her from the inside, combating the heat caused by so many bodies clustered in one place.
“Good?” he asked, leaning in to be heard over the music.
She nodded, then wrinkled her nose when he extended his glass to her, eyebrows raised.
“Want something a little stronger?”
He waved the glass under her nose and laughed when she pushed it away.
“That stuff tastes like vodka with cigarette butts in it!” she exclaimed before going back to her daiquiri.
“It does not,” he argued. “You just haven’t had a good Scotch yet. But we’ll change that.”
Melody chose not to argue, leaning into him and gazing around the club with wide eyes. Despite her love of Country music, she’d never been in a place like this. She’d spent more time in slick Hip Hop and Dance clubs over the years, and while she appreciated most genres of music, she loved nothing more than Country. She had always danced to the songs alone in her room growing up, improvising steps and pretending to know what she was doing.
The interior of The Copper Rose was as rustic and charming as its exterior. The scents of beer, sawdust, and leather mingled with the smoke from the barbecue pit out back. They had passed a food truck on the way in, and the tempting smells had made their way inside. Thick wooden beams crossed overhead, strung with strings of fairy lights that looked like ropes of stars. The large, open dance floor occupied much of the space, caged in by a railing along which people stood to watch the dancers. Booths and high-top tables lined the walls, while a second level held pool tables and more places to sit. The walls were cluttered with western knickknacks—worn cowboy hats hanging on pegs, rows of beer cans and empty bottles lining floating shelves, neon signs and coils of rope, sepia-toned photos of men in chaps and belt buckles and women in daisy dukes and boots.
Her eyes fell on the cowboy hats, belt buckles, denim, leather, and cotton worn by the people around them. She and Mateo didn’t seem out of place in the crowd as Melody had feared before coming inside. At least half the women wore dresses in flirty, feminine styles, and several men had shunned the cowboy aesthetic for whatever felt natural for them. She eyed Mateo with warmth blossoming in her chest. His dark jeans were a slim fit, accentuating his long legs. A black T-shirt clung to his torso, and he wore a denim jacket that looked broken in and comfortable—as if he wore it all the time. When he stood close, she could smell his scent clinging to it, that leathery, smoky cologne that drove her senses into overdrive.
The current song was lively and bouncy, sparking a flurry of movement from the crowded dance floor. Boots scuffed and stomped across the floorboards, sending up flurries of sawdust. Swiveling lights flashed in shades of red, blue, and pink. The atmosphere itself felt charged and electric, making it difficult for Melody to stand still as she drained her first daiquiri.
Mateo knocked back his Scotch and took her hand once she’d finished working her straw at the bottom of the glass to get the last few drops.
“You look about ready to bust,” he joked, pulling her away from the bar. “Come on, baby girl, let’s boot scoot.”
Melody laughed, pulling back on his hand to slow him down and digging in her heels. “Mateo, wait! I don’t know how!”
He took both her hands, walking backward as he led her onto the floor. “All you have to do is follow my lead.”
Melody fell against his side and clung tight, nervous and uncertain. They were jostled from all sides, pushed into the movements as Melody struggled to keep up. Mateo was patient and unconcerned with the people around them as he showed her the steps. She felt like an idiot for the first minute, but Mateo was having none of that. His hold on her was sure, and his encouragement when she did something right bolstered her confidence. He grinned at her when she caught the rhythm, letting her go to move alongside him in time with the various kicks and claps. Her face split into a smile that stayed plastered to her face for most of the night. Mateo kept her on the dance floor between trips to the bar, teaching her how to boot scoot and two-step, then taking her into his arms and showing her just what he’d meant when he'd said he would dance her dizzy.
