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We hadn’t even made it out of the studio when Jimmy Ray started the next part of the morning’s show. “Lines are now open. Let’s talk about Mischief Myrtle, everyone’s favorite resident of the Stubborn Donkey Sanctuary and Brewery. She got out last week and ate her way through a nearby organic garden. What’s your best plan for keeping this long-eared Houdini in her pasture?”
I could only imagine some of the responses Jimmy Ray would get to this question. Wilson and I said hello and goodbye to the station manager and headed out into the already warm Texas morning.
“That was fun.” I turned to my brother as we walked down the sidewalk from KTXE to where he’d parked his truck.
“Fun? Dude, it was awesome. Jimmy Ray is my new idol.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave me half a hug. “I’m growing a mustache.”
“I’ll buy the beard dye. At your age, I bet that baby is more gray than anything.”
“Just for Men?”
“Only the best for my baby brother.”
Shit. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d been silly like this. Way too long. Mom would be so happy if she could see us. I’d already been conspiring with Cameron to have a huge Phillips family Thanksgiving at Blue Star. Little did Wilson know.
We turned off the main square and down the side street where Wilson had parked his brand-new truck.
“You ever been?” Wilson pointed at a shop painted to look like a Texas flag. The sign out front proclaimed it the world-famous Worn Boot.
“No, that’s Melvin’s shop?”
“Yep. The place is like a boot museum. That old man is incredible. These boots are unreal.” He lifted the hem of his jeans and wiggled a foot.
“I totally understand. Mine are from Melvin too.” I didn’t have to lift my hem as I’d paired my boots with a cotton sundress.
“Huh. Atley?”
I nodded and our chit-chat withered and died.
Damn that gruff, dirty-talking cowboy. I wish I knew what I wanted to say to him, because I’d give him a piece of my mind. Only my thoughts were scattered on the wind like Texas tumbleweeds. One day, I wanted to hug him and say I was sorry. The next day, I wanted to scream at him for screwing up a good-ish thing. Other days, I wanted to pack my seventeen suitcases and run away to California.
The only thing I knew for sure I wasn’t doing was running away. I’d been lucky when I landed at Blue Star. The Stomp and tasting room would put me on the wine business radar. My social media campaigns for the event were gaining traction. Tickets were selling at a brisk pace, and the local media and social influencers I’d invited to the soft open would help with a final push over the next two weeks. I predicted a sellout. That was the kind of success I could turn into a career.
Wilson held open the passenger door for me, and I hopped in the truck. He backed out and wove through the square on his way out of town. Charming didn’t cover the cuteness factor of Elmer. The kitschy shops, locally owned restaurants, and brick streets looked like a set for a TV show.
“I see why you’re happier here than in California,” I said.
“How about you? Do you miss Chicago?”
“I miss some things. But not Matthew or my job. Trying to make people excited to buy dishwasher tablets and plastic storage bags sucked. I realize now, the stress wasn’t worth it. There is no passion in non-distinguishable consumer products or Matthew Taylor.” I pretended to gag.
“Alright. What about your friends?”
“What friends? That ship sailed when they started having kids and I was in limbo with Matthew. Between not having common ground to connect and them asking when he and I were getting married? No thank you.”
“What do you miss?”
“Good pizza and my dog park friends.”
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m going to apologize again for Georgie. Are you sure about the hair extensions? Because there is a lady I found in Dallas, she will totally do it.”
“Oh my God, no. For the last time. I’m adjusting to the puppy clip, and the mohawk is kind of cute. I’ve ordered purple dye for when the blue fades.” Ranch living and the fact Georgie’s life as ashow dog was over helped me accept the new hairdo. Dog shows had been a fun thing to do with the other people in my dog-walking group in Chicago, but I’d never gone all in. Georgie also approved of the new sassy cut; better aerodynamics for mouse hunting.
“How’s that dye stuff work?”
“It’s plant-based and all-natural. Hill Country Hound here in Elmer sells it.”
“Not sure why Atley had them dye it blue.”
