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“Why?” he asks.
I shrug.
“I’m not much of a fisherman I guess.”
He grunts.
“Back in my day, generations kept the land that was passed down to them.”
“Yeah, well, my generation likes to decide where we want to settle for ourselves,” I counter.
“Damn, young’uns,” he grumbles.
He is an ornery old coot. I like him.
“In the meantime, I’m renting a cabin from Rocky Pass and tending bar over at the brewery. You should stop by and let me buy you a drink.”
“Don’t drink,” he states.
“Do you eat? Because we serve food too.” I ask.
“I do.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“I’ll stop by. When I’m hungry,” he deadpans.
I laugh.
“Perfect. Now, I’m going to look around. I could use some things to spruce up grandpa’s shack.”
I leave him there and start hunting for hidden gems.
After my stop at Uncle Zemry’s store, I swing by my cabin to quickly change and apply some makeup before heading to work.
The brewery parking lot is full of motorcycles, and when I enter, I find that every booth and barstool is filled, and there is a line of waiting customers at the door.
Tables at the front of the building have been scooted aside to give room for a makeshift dance floor beside the small stage, which is currently occupied by an Eagles cover band.
Reed is behind the bar, and I make my way to him.
“Where do you want me tonight?” I ask.
“Behind the bar. This place is a madhouse. I can’t keep up, and neither can the kitchen,” he says.
I tie my apron around my waist and join him. Jumping right in to help fill the stack of orders he has spread across the bar.
I’m in my zone. This is the type of crowd I’m used to dealing with. Loud, large, and a little rowdy. I speak their language, and before I know it, I have the burly bikers laughing and eating out of the palm of my hand. The tip jars are overflowing, and Reed is wearing a wide grin.
Langford and Weston Tuttle sidle up to the bar at one point and order a pitcher of draft beer and two dozen buffalo wings.
They are greeted by every single patron as they wait for their orders.
Weston owns a cannabis farm in town and manufactures a variety of CBD and hemp products. He’s a bit of a celebrity among the bike rally crowd. The two of them are immediately sent a round of shots, followed by another round before their pitcher hits the bar.
“Two glasses, fellas?” I ask as I place coasters in front of them.
Langford looks down at his phone. “Yeah, for now. I’m trying to get Corbin to join us, but his ass isn’t answering my text.”
