Free Sweet Harmony by Luann McLane Page B

yet, but add a shot of vodka. The good stuff.”
    Pete pointed to a sign hanging on the wall that read: “IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK SOMEWHERE.”
    “Good point.”
    Pete nibbled on the inside of his lip. “I just thought of something you might like even better. Are you willing to try?”
    “Sure.” She gave a smile that appeared a bit shy, reminding him of the first time he asked her out on a date, and it went straight to his heart.
    Pete went in search of some tea-flavored vodka, and after adding a splash of lemonade proceeded to make an Arnold Palmer–flavored martini. He shook the ingredients until it was ice cold and then strained it into a chilled glass that he’d rimmed with sugar. Pete added a curl of lemon zest and placed the fancy concoction in front of her with a flourish.
    “Wow, now that’s very pretty,” Maria said, and he was mesmerized as she moved her fingers up and down thestem of the glass. She lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip.
    “Well?”
    “Oh, now this is some good stuff. Could be dangerous,” Maria added and then licked a few grains of sugar clinging to her bottom lip. “You do make an excellent martini, Pete.”
    “Thanks. I’m always trying out new recipes. I’ll add this one to the drink list. I’ll call it the Maria Sully Special,” he said, and then wondered how she’d take that comment. He was trying his best to flirt. “Is that okay with you?”
    “I think it’s really cool to have a drink named after me.” She lifted her glass. “Maria Sully it is.”
    “You forgot the
Special
part.”
    Maria flicked a glance at him and smiled. She took another taste. “Ah, it gets better with each sip.”
    “Even better with the next glass. There’s more in the shaker. You know what they say about a martini. One martini is all right. Two is too many and three are not enough. James Thurber.”
    Maria laughed and then raised her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
    “I never go jogging. It makes me spill my martini,” Pete said in his best George Burns imitation.
    Maria arched an eyebrow. “I like to have a martini, two at the very most. After three I’m under the table; after four I’m under my host. Dorothy Parker,” Maria said with a chuckle.
    Pete had another martini quote on the tip of his tongue, but the image of her under the host slammed into his brain and slid south. Judging by the sudden pink in her cheeks, Maria might be thinking something similar. Or perhaps it was just the alcohol, he reasoned. “So what brings you over?” Pete asked, hoping she might say to see him.
    Maria reached for the small bowl of peanut mix and,just as he thought, picked out the sesame sticks. “I wanted to talk to you about starting the songwriters’ showcase here at the tavern that we talked about. An open mic night kind of thing, but not cover songs, only self-written music. Are you interested in getting it off the ground?”
    Oh, so this was business. Pete shoved his disappointment to the side and nodded. “I like the idea. We could eventually open up Sully’s South in Restaurant Row.”
    “This could get the ball rolling and if we publicize it I think we can get some pretty big names from Nashville.”
    “We already have a big name,” Pete said with a smile. He was so damned proud of her accomplishments and wished he’d stood behind her years earlier and not let his pride or fear get in the way. The knowledge that he’d hurt the only woman he’d ever loved plagued him every single day after she left. How many hundreds of times had he picked up the phone to call? Grabbed his truck keys to go after her and bring her back to Cricket Creek, where she belonged? But after Maria became an acclaimed songwriter Pete worried that she would think he wanted her back because of her success.
    And so the years passed . . .
    Maria smiled, but he saw a haunting sadness in her blue eyes. She dropped her gaze to her drink. “I’d also love to have Cat Carson and Jeff Greenfield here on