Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 388(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Binx winks. “That’s part of the magic. Only the bold make it through the front door. And keeping things quiet keeps the cops away. Bettie would lose her license if they realized how often she sells to minors. But she thinks if you’re old enough to vote and die for your country in a war, you ought to be able to order a beer. Can’t say I disagree.”
I hum beneath my breath. “Makes sense.” Shifting on my stool, I check in on Freya, who’s still darting in and out of the cat structure, before asking in a softer voice, “So, what’s the story, woman? What did you do here?”
She shrugs uncomfortably. “Nothing much, really. I helped spread the word about the fundraiser for Sprout’s cochlear implant surgery and agreed to shave my head if we raised a certain amount in ten days. The guys at my gym thought it would be hilarious to see me bald and…the rest is history.”
Connecting the dots, I ask, “And you didn’t tell your mother this, because…”
She bristles, her shoulders hunching closer to her ears. “I shouldn’t have to. If I want to shave my head, for any reason, that should be okay. I’m still the same person, you know? And it’s my body.” She takes a drink of her water before setting it down a little too hard on the bar. “And she wouldn’t have cared if any of my brothers did it. It’s pure sexism, it’s ridiculous, and I’m sick of it.”
I nod. “Valid.” I lean in, nudging her shoulder gently with mine. “But I’m sorry. It sucks to be punished for doing a good deed.”
“I’m not being punished,” she says, brightening as Bettie sets our drinks in front of us. “I’m the luckiest girl in Bad Dog. Damn, Bettie, these smell even better than usual.”
“Thank you.” Bettie pats her hand. “And watch your mouth. You know my rules. No salty language in my bar, only salty martini rims.”
Binx salutes her as she reaches for her drink. “Yes, ma’am. Bettie was in the army, and still has a little drill sergeant in her.”
My brows lift as I glance back at the tiny woman. She can’t be more than five feet tall and a hundred pounds, if that.
Bettie grins at my reaction. “I was a little taller when I was young, but you’re not wrong. The men all laughed at me, until they came into my clinic needing a bullet wound treated, and I was the only one in the med tent who didn’t get squeamish. I was one of the first nurses to serve overseas.”
“Wow.” I blink. “Thank you for your service.”
“And thank you for yours,” Bettie says with a wink. “I was at the business leader lunch you catered last fall. You do good work. The roasted duck had such a nice flavor, and the cheese puffs were the best I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you,” I say, flattered. “That’s my recipe. I do most of the bread and baked goods.”
“Tessa’s a culinary goddess,” Binx says, patting my back. “My sister has no idea how she’ll keep going if she quits to open her own restaurant.”
Bettie’s eyes widen. “Is that something you’re thinking about?”
I wave a hand. “Nah, not really. I mean, yeah, I dream about it sometimes, but I’m sure the reality would be way too exhausting. Running your own business is no joke.”
Bettie nods. “No, it’s not. But neither is letting your dreams slip away because something seems scary. We weren’t put here to stick to what comes easy, Tessa. We were put here to do the things that scare us. That’s the whole point.”
“Speaking of things that scare me,” Binx mutters, turning from the door and blocking her face with her drink. “Don’t look now, but Psycho Twin just walked in.”
I look up, gulping as I see Darcy, Wesley’s ex swinging through the door.
“What’s up, bitches?” she shouts, kicking the door closed behind her with one black boot. “Miss me?”
Scratch that, not Darcy. This is Daria, her twin sister, the scary one.
There are some vague murmurs from the two men at the bar, but nothing compared to the warm welcome Binx received when she arrived. But Daria doesn’t seem to notice.
She wraps her arms around Flannel Guy, hugging him until his cheeks flush pink. “Oh, I know, me too,” she says. “I’ve missed you at Riff’s on Sundays. What the fuck is wrong with this town? How can you ban someone from a bar for life for one fight? It’s crazy.”
“You’re going to get banned here if you don’t watch your mouth,” Bettie says as she crosses to that side of the bar. “You know the rules, Daria. Now, what can I get you, honey?”
“Give me a Jack Kerouac martini with extra…” She trails off, her brown eyes narrowing as her gaze lands on Binx.