Free Something I Need (xoxo Nashville Book 1) by Lena Lowe Page B

mahogany, and the waves had been replaced by well-defined curls. Gone were the flip-flops and tank top, and in was a black and white polka-dot dress and – were they blue suede cowboy boots? Cash did a double take and shook his head in disbelief. Only she could sashay in here wearing a pair of baby-blue colored boots!
    “Nice boots.” He leaned against the bar as she slid onto a stool.
    “Thanks.” Her smile was all cute and coy, and she flushed a pretty shade of pink.
    “Dolly take you to that vintage country place she loves so much?”
    “Yep.”
    “I like your hair. It suits you.”
    Yeah, he liked her hair much more than he should. He’d always preferred brunettes. And checking her out now, he couldn’t figure out why she’d bothered with the blonde hair. He busied himself by pouring her a pint so that he would have an excuse to look away.
    “Thanks. Dolly suggested I go back to my roots.” Jonte tousled her curls.
    Cash sat the pint down on a coaster in front of her. “So you’re naturally darker?”
    She nodded and took a sip of her beer. “Thanks for this, by the way.” Jonte lightly tapped her fingers across the bar top. “Things got a little out of hand yesterday. You know, the whole apartment hunting theatrics. I was tired and frazzled, and realize you were just trying to help.”
    “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t exactly my finest hour either.”
    “That’s nice of you to say. So, yesterday you said I could help out around here until I find something more permanent. Was that a genuine offer?”
    Of course it had been a genuine offer. He really did want to help her. He just wished he could help her without actually having to be near her, especially this post-Dolly makeover version of her. New hair, clothes, and makeup – what else had Dolly done? He quashed his curiosity – well, tried to.
    “Sure,” he replied, with what he hoped was a casual I-wasn’t-just-thinking-about-you-naked shrug.
    “Don’t sound so enthusiastic. I’m not that bad to work with.”
    “No, it’s fine, really. I could use an extra pair of hands to help out over the weekends.”
    “Are you sure? You’re not just saying that to be nice?”
    Christ. He needed to get away from her. There were a million thoughts racing through his mind right now and none of them were nice.
    He shook his head and threw a damp rag down next to her beer. “You can start as soon as you finish off that beer. Grab the empty glasses and wipe down the tables.”
    Cash left Jonte to go check on his regulars.
    “What’s with the sudden surge in hotties?” Tommy hooked his thumb over his shoulder toward the other end of the bar while he waited for Cash to pour his next shot.
    “No surge, same hottie.” Cash nudged the shot towards him.
    “Huh. You gotta do something with that.”
    “I just offered her a job. Does that count?”
    Tommy knocked back his shot. “Suppose it’s a start.”

10
    J onte hadn’t counted on starting work straight away, but now had to be better than nothing. She finished her beer and scanned the bar, not exactly sure where to start. Was it weird for her to just randomly waltz up to tables and ask people for their glasses?
    She looked to Cash for help and he held up a finger at her, signaling that he’d be there in a second. Jonte tapped her foot in time with the drumbeat to The Rolling Stones classic “Painted Black”that was playing on the jukebox. Back in high school, her teacher had taught her to play this on the piano as a part of her exploration of all things that weren’t classical. Instinctively, her fingers flew across the bar top as if it was a piano. She stopped them quickly, knowing how deranged she must look, and softly sang the first line of the second verse.
    “Stones fan?” Cash startled her.
    “Sometimes.” She let out a nervous laugh and ran her hands along the skirt of her dress, already regretting wearing the damn thing.
    “Don’t stop. Keep singing.”
    “No, it’s