Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 770(@200wpm)___ 616(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Neighborhood hero or savvy business owner? Why not both?
Music drifted from inside the bar, where it looked darker and infinitely cooler. That was where I needed to be, so I maneuvered around a couple pallets of water bottles and sidestepped a group of workers, more than ready to be out of the sun.
Once inside, I stopped to let my eyes adjust to the sudden dimness, giving a slight shiver as the breeze from the overhead fans cooled my heated skin. Other than the explosion of people filling most of the tables and barstools, the old place hadn’t changed much since I was here last. The walls were decorated with TVs, neon beer signs and random Texas memorabilia. The carpeted platform in the corner still held a trap set, several amps and a mic stand. A window in the wall revealed a small kitchen that made appetizers and pizza, when it was open. And behind the scuffed wooden bar on the far wall, a couple of shelves displayed the bottles of beer available for sale, as well as the setups customers could order if they brought their own liquor.
That was the thing about icehouses—they only served beer. If you wanted to party harder, you had to bring your own booze. Most people didn’t, though, which helped keep the atmosphere relaxed and friendly.
I didn’t know the guys slinging bottles behind the bar, but they were obviously being run off their feet. Folks were stacked up three deep between the barstools, waiting to order.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing August in August,” a sultry feminine voice said over the music and the clamor of the crowd. “There’s a country song or a turducken joke in there somewhere.”
I smiled warily, feeling the resurgent wiggle of nerves in my stomach as I turned to face my oldest friend. “Hey there, Bernadette.”
12
AUGUST
Bernadette Prudence Hudson had never been a saint or a prude, and no one would ever mistake her for one. She looked more like an Amazon, with a tall, slender body forged by a lifetime of physical training. We were the same age, but Bernie looked ten years younger and was in much better shape. Her sun-kissed skin, attractively displayed in a halter top and a pair of frayed jean shorts, was still soft and healthy-looking. I needed her secret. And possibly more SPF 100.
She stood there with her hands on her hips, studying me with inscrutable eyes, and the way the muscles bunched in her shoulders, arms and thighs made me silently question all my sedentary life choices.
When we were kids, she’d gone to dance competitions and gymnastics meets year-round, while I’d spent my days with my head buried in a book and my hand in the nearest bag of chips. Now she looked like she could compete in an Iron Man competition, while I…looked like I could write a book with one hand buried in a bag of chips.
I wondered if they served chips here.
She was going to be a grandmother in less than two months. It was hard to wrap my head around.
“I heard about your roof,” she finally said, after winning the once-over stare-down. “You can grab a plate if you’re hungry.”
“I’m fine.” I hated that this felt so uncomfortable. “And thank you for taking Morgan’s dogs while my power was out, but I’m not here for… What is all this?”
I gestured to the crowd around us but kept my focus on her familiar face. Even wearing its current look of suspicion, it helped calm the anxiety I was feeling.
She reached up to push a thick strand of dark-brown hair out of her face and work it back into her braid. “The usual. Wade made Hudson’s an unofficial command center for county workers and local maintenance. I’m not sure who started the rumor we were having a party and the whole neighborhood was invited to bring food.” She glared at the crowd milling around outside. “But since my brother is buried in work across the street, I closed up my studio to juggle this circus.”
“That was nice of you.” If memory served, she actually could juggle. And rock climb. And skydive.
Bernadette was a one-woman life goal.
“It’s a pain in the ass, like the dogs—Ann took them back to the house by the way. But that’s what family is for. They show up for each other,” she added with a meaningful look. “Even when it’s hard.”
Ouch. I felt that. I needed to orient and get out of here. “I’m actually here to help out too. I’m supposed to—”
An embarrassingly high-pitched squeal of surprise escaped me when she pounced, wrapping her fingers around my wrist. “Do not fuck with me, August.”
Were we fighting now? I wasn’t dressed for fighting. And why did everyone think I was fucking with them?
“Tone it down, Wonder Woman,” I muttered as twenty heads turned to look at me. “I’m losing circulation in my fingers.”