Wild Cowboy Ways (Lucky Penny Ranch #1)(29)

“Any friend of Deke’s is a friend of Frankie’s but the first three times you come through that door, he has to be with you. Understood?”

Allie nodded.

Blake stuck out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Frankie. I hear you’ve got some of the best barbecue in the state.”

“No, sir,” Frankie smiled as he pumped Blake’s hand a few times and then dropped it. “And I am Frankie, not Mr. Frankie. Mr. Frankie was my grandpa and my daddy was Little Frankie. I’m just Frankie. And son, my barbecue ain’t some of the best. It is the very best. Now what can I get y’all?”

“Ribs,” Deke said. “We’ll all have ribs and French fries tonight and maybe a double shot each of your famous brew. After that we’d better settle with beer since none of us wants to be a designated driver.”

Frankie leaned across the bar and said seriously, “You get wasted, I don’t take your keys, you remember that. You get lost gettin’ out of here, the coyotes can eat you for breakfast.”

Allie’s eyes adjusted to the dim light and she scanned the room. The bar ran the length of the side where Frankie could watch the front door. A dozen chairs surrounded a couple of mismatched tables pushed up on the other side. It was small for a bar and barbecue combination but large for a living room. She could smell a delicious aroma of smoked beef and pork somewhere at the back of the house.

Everything was spotless clean. She could see the reflection of the bottles of liquor in the top of the bar. The hardwood floor looked as if it had been freshly waxed and there wasn’t a spot of dust anywhere. She’d always expected something a hell of a lot seedier when she thought of Frankie’s, but then she’d painted a very different picture of the owner, too.

She propped a hip on a bar stool in between Blake and Deke. “Not what I expected.”

“Me, either, first time I came here. I thought Frankie would be ten feet tall and bulletproof. I expect he’s still bulletproof even if he isn’t that tall. The place will come to life in about thirty minutes. That’ll give us time to eat and then we can party. I’m taking home a woman tonight. How about you, Blake?”

“How?” Allie asked. “Y’all going to throw them in the back of the truck?”

“I’m just here for some beer and maybe a little dancing, not to take someone home,” Blake answered.

“Why?” Allie asked.

“Lord, you sound like a newspaper reporter.” Deke laughed.

Frankie carried three red plastic baskets to the bar, filled to the brim with ribs and steaming hot fries, and lined them up. “Y’all’s the first customers tonight. Now what weight do you want that special brew, Deke?”

“Peach pie.” Deke smiled.

“You got it.” Frankie chuckled.

“Frankie has several famous brews, but I want you to taste his peach pie first. He manages to make moonshine taste like fresh peach pie right out of the oven. But don’t let it fool you. It’s got a hell of a lot more kick than pie,” Deke explained.

Frankie reached under the counter and brought out a quart mason jar filled with an amber-colored liquid. Then he set three glasses on the bar and put a double shot in each. “Sip it. Don’t throw it back. It’s made to enjoy.”

The door opened and a couple of women wearing short skintight skirts, high heels, and crop tops plopped up on bar stools. One of them winked at Deke and he smiled at her.

“How you doin’, Prissy?” he asked.

“Right fine, darlin’. You?”

“Real good. You workin’ or playin’?”

“Workin’ tonight. You want to book some time?”

He held up his glass. “Naw, I’m just here for supper and some peach pie.”

“Good stuff.” She smiled, showing off a gold eyetooth. “How about your buddy?”

Deke shook his head.

“Y’all change your mind, I got room three booked and Lacy here has paid for room four.”

It wasn’t the bite of the peach moonshine that made Allie gasp but the fact that Deke had brought her to a whorehouse as well as an illegal bar. Lord, if the gossip hounds ever got a hold of that bit of news, she and Blake both would be ruined for life. And Blake didn’t act like any of it fazed him one bit!

Lacy’s butt looked like it was going to pop out of that skirt when she went from the bar to the jukebox and plugged several quarters into it. Then she and Prissy started doing a seductive dance as Etta James’s soulful voice singing “At Last” filled the whole room.

Allie’s eyes must’ve been the size of saucers because Deke poked her on the arm.

“I told you that it ain’t a country bar,” he said softly.

“I kind of gathered that,” Allie said.

Blake held out a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“What about our food?” she asked.

“Deke won’t let anyone get it.”

Deke nudged her with his shoulder. “Go on. Have some fun.”

She slid off the stool and Blake picked up her hands and wrapped them around his neck. His arms rested loosely around her waist as he began to move slowly and smoothly around the dance floor. The lyrics of the song said that he smiled and the spell was cast. God help her, but truer words had never been spoken.