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“Get in here, girl. If I gotta get my picture taken, so do you.” He grabs at my shoulder, pulling me close, and I sink into him. Holding the phone up, I take a burst of shots—us looking at the camera with cheesy smiles, me looking at him, then him looking at me too. These pictures are for me, not for my blog.
I drop the phone to my side, feeling like . . . I found my family.
Mom and Dad, and fine, even Oakley, are great and I love them dearly. But I missed out on a life with Unc because of other people’s stupidity, and I’m not going to let that continue.
His smile is soft, his eyes sad, but he hugs me tight. “Glad to have you here too, Willow.”
Olivia interrupts. “Sorry to break up the love fest, but you know we’ve got a lot of shit to do and not enough time to do it. Those lemons aren’t gonna cut themselves.”
I look over to find her leaning against the bar, likely realizing something major had just happened between me and Unc. As much as she’s opened up to me, I haven’t told anyone why I’m really here. It’s not their business, not yet, hopefully not ever. But she knows Hank is my grandfather’s brother and I hadn’t seen him in years before walking in that door and ordering a life-changing burger.
I grin. “You volunteering to help?” I tease.
She shakes her head, ponytail swishing behind her. “Hell, no. I’ve got silverware to wrap, but I’ll keep you company while you slice.”
She sets her basket of cutlery and stack of napkins on the bar in front of me. “Skedaddle, Boss Man. We’ve got girl talk to discuss, so it’d be best for you to check on Ilene in the kitchen.”
He grumbles something about bossy girls but heads off to the kitchen, probably legit scared that we’re going to talk about breasts or periods, though looking at Olivia, I hope that’s not what’s on her mind. Some people just tell me some extremely personal and TMI things.
Olivia grins as she watches him go, whispering out of the side of her mouth, “Ilene’s in a great mood tonight, mouth running and ass swinging to the radio she’s got back there. She’ll have Hank laughing and singing some old Keith Whitley in no time.”
I chuckle, slicing away at my fifteenth lemon. “You sure we’ll need all these? I’ve got a bin full, another in the fridge, but Unc said to do one more too.”
“Tonight? You’ll be lucky if you don’t run out. It’s show night.” Olivia fans herself dramatically with a paper napkin, but at my confused look, she straightens. “You don’t know, do you? Oh, shit, girl. We’re gonna show you how it goes down in the country tonight! Bobby Tannen is taking that stage, singing his growly little heart out and lighting panties on fire across the whole county.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about. Unc said that tonight was one of the live music nights, but Olivia makes it sound like there’s a celebrity coming. “Even yours?” I joke.
She nods, ponytail bobbing. “Hell, yeah! Me and my girl have a deal—if that man so much as crooks a finger at either of us, we’ll follow him like the Pied Piper of Great Falls . . . doo-doo-doo-doo-doo.” She mimics some sort of flute with a fork held sideways at her mouth.
I can’t help but laugh at her outrageousness.
“That man is everyone’s free pass, eighteen to eighty, not that it matters a bit. He don’t give anyone a lick of attention, and not for their lack of trying, neither.” Her eyes go big and round, her mouth following a second later. “Ooh, or maybe he just hasn’t been interested in the local fare and what he needs is some fresh meat. Some city girl to sweep him off his feet.”
She points at me with both index fingers, proud of what she obviously thinks is a brilliant idea. It’s not, at all.
“Oh, no, slow that crazy runaway train down right now. I’m not here looking for some country boy, and I’m not exactly what panty-fire-starting guys want anyway. I want to work and take pictures and that’s it.”
She believes me because her face falls. “What the hell you talking about? You’re adorable. Bobby Tannen would be lucky if you looked his way.” I think her vision of me sashaying up to this cowboy-lebrity was going to be her entertainment for the night, but I have never sashayed a day in my life.
“Adorable, just what every woman wants to be,” I say sarcastically, planting my hands under my chin and batting my lashes angelically. “That’s right up there with funny and nice. All one-way tickets to the friend zone.”
Olivia pokes my arm with her fork, having not wrapped a single set of silverware. “Shut up. Some of us are hot, some of us are adorable, and some of us are plain Janes, but it’s what you do with it that matters. Everyone’s got someone out there. Just gotta find them.”
