Fearless Love by Meg Benjamin Page B

while.”
    The door to the beer garden swung open, sending a blast of roots rock across the room. He watched her gaze longingly in the general direction of the band.
    Interesting. He hadn’t really thought about her interests outside chickens and the kitchen at the Rose. “You like music?”
    She nodded. “Sure. Who doesn’t?”
    “You want to go outside and dance?”
    “Love to,” she said a little too quickly, then looked slightly embarrassed. “I mean, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to rush you or anything. It’s nice in here too.”
    “You’re not rushing me. And believe me, it’s nicer outside.” Around this time of night, the air conditioning in the Faro was more a promise than a reality. He laid a few bills on top of the check Deirdre had discreetly dropped on the table, then put his hand on MG’s back to guide her outside.
    The beer garden was packed with people. A choked space in the center was full of couples trying to dance without caroming off of each other like pool balls. The band was small but very, very loud, which, considering the din of the crowd, was probably a good thing .
    “I’d ask you to dance,” Joe yelled, “but I don’t think we’d be able to fight our way out there right now.”
    MG nodded, but he had a feeling she didn’t really hear him. She was staring at the bandstand with something like longing. For a moment, he wondered if she knew somebody in the band, and his chest clenched at the thought. Then she turned toward him, smiling. “That’s okay,” she yelled, “we can grab the next one.”
    He put his arm around her waist, telling himself he was protecting her from the crowd. And who protects her from you? Nobody, of course.
    They shuffled to the side of the garden, Joe keeping her close as he shouldered bodies out of their way. “Here.” He gestured toward a couple of empty spots on a bench at an otherwise occupied picnic table, then pulled her down beside him.
    MG leaned close. “Is it always this crowded?”
    He nodded. “Pretty much whenever they have a band. They’ve got a good reputation in the area. Plus they’re set up for crowds.” He nodded toward the bar at the end of the garden where a bartender was handing out longnecks to a couple of waitresses.
    “Who’s that?” MG’s voice sounded in his ear.
    He looked where she was pointing. The man at the other side of the garden was the size of a foothill—massive shoulders, arms like hams, hands like ping-pong paddles. His long black hair was pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. He wore a drooping moustache and a sleepy expression that probably didn’t fool anybody who wasn’t already blind drunk.
    “That’s Chico Burnside,” he explained. “He’s the bouncer.”
    MG gave him a doubtful look. “He’s huge.”
    “Goes with the job.” Joe shrugged. “He’s a decent guy. I wouldn’t call him nice, but he’s not a bully. He does what he needs to do.”
    Chico glanced in their direction. For a moment, his eyes seemed to narrow as he looked at MG. Then he glanced away.
    The band began to play something he only vaguely recognized, but at least it was a slow one. “Want to dance?”
    “Sure.” She stood beside him, then seemed to slide into his arms.
    It took him a moment to identify the song, but when he did he felt a quick tightening in his gut. “Help Me Make It Through the Night” . Terrific. One of the songs he’d played over and over during his recovery days. Now associated forever more with those raggedy months when he was putting himself back together again.
    Except he’d never really listened to the lyrics before, just the idea. Help me, somebody, help me through this long night. But now that he took the time to hear it, the words were, well, hot.
    MG moved in his arms slightly. He felt the warmth of her skin against his palms, the slight scent of rosemary in her hair. He had a sudden impulse to pull her tight against him, but he held her lightly still. Gently,