Page 127

As we stepped outside, the night air wrapped around us, warm but crisp enough to remind me it wasn’t summer anymore. The streets of downtown Wippowa were alive, a mix of locals and tourists weaving in and out of shops and restaurants, laughter and music spilling onto the sidewalks.

Wells walked beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, his gait easy and relaxed. I, on the other hand, was still suspicious.

“Where are we going now?” I asked as we turned down a side street.

“A bar.”

I arched a brow.

He shot me a knowing smirk. “Oh, Sunshine, you’re in for a great time.”

I didn’t have much time to question him before we stopped in front of a brick building with a faded wooden sign hanging above the door. Buck and Barrel.

Inside, the scent of old whiskey and fried food hit me first, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone butchering a country song on a karaoke mic. The place had all the hallmarks of a proper dive bar—dim lighting, mismatched furniture, and a handful of regulars parked at the bar like they owned the place. A neon beer sign flickered against the back wall, casting a soft blue hue over a pool table where a few guys were mid-game.

I let out a small laugh. “Wow. Fancy.”

Wells grinned. “Told you.”

I barely had time to take in the full scene before a man on stage hit an impressively terrible high note, earning a mix of cheers and groans from the crowd. A woman near the bar waved her beer in the air, encouraging him to keep going, while an older man in a cowboy hat shook his head with the weight of someone who had heard far too many bad renditions of ‘Neon Moon’ in his lifetime.

I turned to Wells, arms crossed. “Karaoke? Really?”

“Oh yeah.” He looked far too pleased with himself. “Wippowa tradition.”

I raised a skeptical brow. “So you’re saying you get up there and sing?”

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “What, you don’t think I’ve got the chops?”

“I know you don’t.”

He laughed, nudging me toward the bar. “Let’s get you a drink before you start talking crazy.”

We wove our way through the small crowd, and Wells slid onto an open barstool, motioning for me to take the one beside him. The bartender, a woman with a messy blonde ponytail and a t-shirt that read Drink ‘til He’s Cute, leaned on the counter and gave Wells a knowing grin.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Calloway.” She tossed a bar rag over her shoulder. “Didn’t think I’d see you in here on a Friday night.”

Wells smirked. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Her eyes flicked to me, curiosity sparking. “And who’s this?”

“This is Rose,” Wells said, then added with a teasing drawl, “She’s new to Wippowa. Thought I’d show her the finer things in life.”

I snorted. “So you brought me here?”

The bartender let out a loud laugh and stuck out her hand. “I like you already. I’m Katie.”

I shook her hand, already feeling more at ease. “Nice to meet you.”

“What can I get y’all?”

I glanced at Wells. “Round of bourbon?”

His brows lifted. “Look at you, already knowing the Wippowa way.”

Katie smirked, reaching for a bottle behind her. “I like a girl who drinks whiskey. You might just survive here after all.” She poured our drinks and set them in front of us before nodding toward the stage. “You getting up there, Calloway?”

Wells groaned. “Absolutely not.”