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Cowboy Addiction was in full swing. The club was hopping, and Kit couldn’t remember a time when Holly looked happier. She scurried around the room, greeting their guests as Morgan tended to the behind the scenes, making sure the bar was stocked and giving their guests a good bang for their buck—delicious nonalcoholic beverages and the best food in the South.
“What do you think?” Kemper asked, joining him at the bar. “Place handles a crowd, huh?”
Kit smiled and nodded.
“But you don’t think it will make it past the first year, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Kit replied. “It’s hard to tell. The girls have worked hard on the place. Between hosting group support efforts and a booked entertainment schedule, they may do all right.”
“Then why don’t you sound so sure?” Kemper asked, raising his voice so he could be heard over the music in the background.
“I’m just worried about Holly. That’s all.”
“Why?” Kemper asked, searching her out in the crowd.
“She hasn’t looked well. Her face is an ashen color and her eyes are weak. I don’t know, but I get the feeling she isn’t telling me something.”
Kemper shrugged. “You’re on your own there. She whispers sweet nothings in my ear all the time.”
“Remind me to catch her alone and spank her ass raw.”
“I will,” Kemper said, slapping him on the back. “Hey, is that Dr. Zanati over there?”
Kit glared across the room at the woman who’d made separate plays for him and Kemper. She hadn’t even waited a full week to do it. Soon after they’d met, she’d called them in to discuss something bothersome about Holly, and like a gullible man would, they’d each gone to their individual appointments and had to fight her off like they were in the last battle for their lives. They would’ve been if Holly had ever found out about it.
“Wonder what she’s doing here?” Kit asked, narrowing his gaze on Holly when she excitedly went to greet her.
“I don’t know, but Holly wouldn’t be so friendly with the doctor if she knew where the woman tried to put her hands.”
Holly embraced Dr. Zanati like they were best friends. Then, she waved, blew them a kiss, and took center stage.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” She tapped the microphone. “I want to thank you all for coming out tonight. I’m Holly Hamlin, one of the club owners. My friend, Morgan Keesling, had a dream, a dream that you’re seeing materialize right before your very eyes.
“She wanted to bring this community a club they could be proud of, a center that offered folks from all walks of life somewhere to hang out and mingle with old friends while opening up their arms to new ones.
“Tonight, we’re proud to open up Cowboy Addiction. We’ll be here every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday from noon until midnight. We’ll offer the best Southern meals this side of the Wyoming.”
“Mississippi!”
“That, too,” Holly said, grinning wider. “And we’re also proud to announce that some very big names in entertainment will be dropping in on us later this year. Always check the community center at the back of the club for details about those play dates.
“Additionally, since Cowboy Addiction was founded on the belief that no addiction is too strong to overcome, we’re pleased to announce that support groups have been formed and a posted meeting schedule is located on every exit and your bar napkin,” she said, holding up one of the blue-and-white samples.
“Finally, I have an announcement to make.”
“Oh Lord, I hope this isn’t one of those times when she decides to embarrass us all.”
“I am a sex addict…”
“Nay, she’s just gonna tell her life story to strangers,” Kemper said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I’m also in love.”
Everyone clapped.
“And I’m pregnant.” The crowd went wild, clapping and cheering again.
“What’d she say?” Kemper asked, nearly choking on his drink.
