Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 94760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Mom’s unfortunate step off a sidewalk three weeks ago made her unable to fulfill her promise to her best friend, Maggie Marshall. How could she keep up with Maggie’s spirited teenage granddaughter with a cast on her leg?
Answer: she couldn’t. But I could. So my mom volunteered me for the position before I knew what was happening.
That’s what being unemployed and moving in with your mom will get you—even if you’re thirty.
“I’m taking it you made it to town,” Mom says.
“Yeah.” I tell her about breaking down but stop short of the story. She’ll panic. “It’s all good. I’m going to the Marshalls’ tomorrow to meet Maggie’s son and his daughter. Just standing outside The Wet Whistle to get a sandwich right now.” I glance up at the sign. “Cute name, huh?”
“Go eat. I know how you get when you’re hungry. Just let me know when you’re back in your hotel room.”
I smile. “I will. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you.”
I slide my phone into my pocket and tug open the door to the bar.
It’s bigger than I expected based on the outside and much cozier. A couple sits under a giant stuffed turkey flanked by two deer heads. The man and woman smile politely before going back to their drinks. A man at the far end of the bar nods before turning back to the television and giving me a clear view of his Tucker’s Towing shirt.
At least the diesel guy didn’t lie.
I reach the bar beneath a ceiling covered with dollar bills and eighties rock music playing through hidden speakers. A light flickers at the back of the building, and I spot a chalkboard wall. Everything from song lyrics to tic-tac-toe games to a plate lunch menu for the upcoming week is written in different colors.
“I haven’t seen you around before.”
The bartender walks my way as I slide onto a barstool. His full head of sandy-colored hair is mussed up like he gave in and let it do whatever it wanted. His eyes are light, too, and playful—just like his smile.
“Probably because I’ve never been here before,” I say.
He stops in front of me and sets his towel down. His friendly face is instantly likable.
“Where is everyone? Patti said this was the most exciting venue in town,” I say.
“Patti isn’t wrong. But she just must’ve forgotten that the Peachwood County Fair is this week, and everyone who’s anyone is there.”
I smile at him. “I see. So if you’re here, what does that make you?”
“Someone who doesn’t like kids, and all the kids are at the fair.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
“So what can I get ya this evening?” He grins. “A drink? Food? Therapy?”
“While I could probably use a little therapy and a drink after the day I’ve had, I was just hoping for a sandwich.”
“I can make that happen.” He digs around under the bar, then presents me with a laminated menu. “Ignore the stuff on the front. We’re on a skeleton crew in the kitchen after dark.”
I quickly skim the offerings. It’s a variation of hamburgers and grilled cheeses.
“I’ll take a cheeseburger and a Sprite, please,” I say, handing him the menu back.
“Run it through the garden?”
“Huh? I have no idea what that means.”
“You know, do you want all the stuff on it? Lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles.”
“Yup. Run it, baby.”
He points at me, laughing, and disappears through a set of swinging doors.
I pull out my phone and find the camera app. My best friend, Calista, always gets a kick out of the things I discover on my adventures. She was adamant that the blueness of Chefchaouen in Morocco was a filter. And when I paddled through an underground river in the Philippines, she thought I was lying. So while the dollars on the ceiling in this small-town bar aren’t that exciting, she’ll like it nonetheless.
As I open the app, a deep voice from the other end of the bar captures my attention.
“You must be the girl who was stuck out by Cotton’s,” Tucker says.
Cotton’s?
“Um, I don’t know,” I say, resting my elbows on the bar. “Is Cotton’s a spot with cornfields on either side of the road?”
His laugh is loud and gruff. “This is Peachwood. Everywhere is a spot with cornfields on either side of the road.”
How did he know that was me?
I turn in my chair, the torn leather biting through my jeans. “How did you know that? How did you know I was out there tonight?”
He grins before taking a long slug of his beer.
“I mean it.” My brain spins, searching for an answer. “Did that guy in the black truck tell you?”
Tucker shrugs and goes back to the baseball game. I stare at the back of his round head, unsure whether to demand an answer. I don’t know these people.
Car problems in a cornfield. Hot guy to bait you. A small town with all-knowing residents waiting for darkness to fall …