I was in hell. The moment I’d stepped through the doors of the honky-tonk at the edge of the Fontanel property, I’d felt the hot embers charring my insides.

Definitely hell.

The TV in the carriage house advertised this place as a friendly bar. Bars I could handle. Clubs were all good. But this was a good old-fashioned, dyed-in-the-wool honky-tonk. The kind of place I’d avoided for years.

I tipped back another shot of whiskey, chasing the burn with draft beer. From his post a few yards away, Daryl threw me a disapproving glare. I smiled at the dude, because, zero fucks. That’s how much I had to spare for his bullshit.

He got the hint, shifting his gaze back to the dance floor where Tori’s latest partner, a good old boy that had to be pushing sixty-five, twirled her around. She was all smiles and perfectly sober now, while I was slipping farther into an alcohol-induced haze.

Upside?

None of the twenty or so patrons in the joint had a clue who we were. Probably because every one of them qualified for social security. But I wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. At the rate I was going, I could very well end up on the sawdust floor, and it was comforting to know that if I did, there wouldn’t be a video to memorialize the event.

The waitress wandered over. Smiling wide, she placed my empty shot glass on her tray. “Anything else, sugar?”

I downed the rest of my beer and slid the mug in her direction before fishing a twenty out of my pocket. “One more.”

She shoved the cash into the pocket of her apron. “How about the missus? Another Dr. Pepper?”

I shook my head. “She’s not …” Tori’s laugher drifted from the dance floor. “Yeah. Bring her another. Make sure to add a couple cherries.”

“Sure thing. Be right back.”

Mercifully, the song ended. The clatter of boot heels on the weathered floor drew my attention to Tori. All smiles, she plopped into the chair across from me. “Dang, it’s hot.”

Blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes, she picked up her watered-down Dr. Pepper and went diving around in the ice for the last cherry.

“Having a good time?” I asked.

“I’m having a great time. Are you sure you don’t want me to teach you how to two-step? I’m a good dancer.”

My stomach rolled when the opening riff to “Chattahoochee” poured from the speakers. Because my trip to hell wouldn’t be complete without a little Alan Jackson.

“I love this song!” Tori exclaimed, her smile fading when I rubbed the back of my neck. “If you hate country so much, what are we doing at a honky-tonk?”

Because I didn’t hate it. Not even a little bit.

Shifting my focus from her honeyed gaze, I ran a finger over the rim of my mug. “Exorcising the demons, I guess. That’s a thing, right?”

She slid into the seat beside me. “Wanna tell me what that means?”

Nope.

That’s what I planned to say, but when I opened my mouth, an explanation coiled around my tongue. “I told you my mama used to listen to this music all the time. And she … um … she sang too. Not onstage. Maybe she wanted to. I didn’t know her that well, since I was only eight when she … you know …”

In the midst of my garbled confession, a memory pushed in.

Pale blond hair and bright blue eyes. Painted pink toes and ratty carpet.

“Stop fussing, Lo. I learned me a new song. Sit down and tell me what you think.”

Tori’s hand covered mine, her touch sweeping away the faint voice in my head.

“So this reminds you of her? Your mom?” I said nothing, hoping she’d drop it. But then I felt something scratch the inside of my brain, and I realized it was Tori, probing around for an answer. “Your dad, then?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t talk about my dad, princess. The man is dead to me, so move on, ’kay?”

She sank back into her chair, frowning.

Silence swelled between us, and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I hauled to my feet. “Come on.”

Folding her arms over her chest, her gaze shifted from my outstretched hand to my face. “We’re leaving?”

If that were an option, I would’ve taken it. But her pout told me it wasn’t. So I pulled her to standing. “Not yet. Let’s dance first.”

Surprise flashed across Tori’s features. But then she hesitated, and I wanted to ask what else she needed to make her happy. Maybe a kidney, because it would probably be easier to scoop one out than act like I was enjoying this.

She took a deep breath and then shrugged out of her short, denim jacket.

And holy fuck, if I would have known what she was hiding under there … The little white dress molded to her curves perfectly, but it was only after she turned to lay her jacket on the chair that I got the full effect. The gauzy material tapered into a V, exposing her entire back. Miles of ink and skin and art. And pain that looked pretty.

I dipped my head to kiss her bare shoulder. “Nice dress.”

She turned her head, and soft lips grazed my ear. “Thank you. Now dance with me.”