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How? I have no idea. Considering he’s a sniper at the beck and call of the Army, I can’t imagine how he worked that out. But we both knew it couldn’t last forever, and the lifeline he cast me was beginning to strain.
In five short days, he returns to the other side of the world, and the last thing he needs to worry about is me.
So, today’s dandelion is for a job. Not just any job. Just a small promotion that keeps the lights on and cements me in place, home on Bishop Mountain.
On my day off, and armed with the fluffiest dandelion I could find, I close my eyes and imagine my mom holding it out. My small smile makes way to a gust of breath. I blow all my fears and doubts away, letting the feather-soft wisps fly free on a breeze.
One wish. One shot. And one man who can make it all happen.
CHAPTER2
JESS
“Have you seen Tyler?” I ask, standing a respectable distance from the customer side of the bar.
Anita frowns as she side-eyes me while flipping a shaker with finesse. “I thought you were off.”
I shrug. “I am.” Though I have no idea why. I pause for a beat. “But I wanted to pick up my check.” I can’t help my envious stare at her name tag.Anita Mae, Bartender.
She nods, her smile knowing. “And call dibs on my job?”
I scrunch up my face. “Too obvious?”
“Uh, it’s called initiative. You’re a Bishop. I’d expect nothing less.” She notices the space I’ve created between me and the bar. Bartending in the great state of New York at eighteen? Totally legit. Taste-testing even one drop of alcohol? Not so much.
And as I am the last of the Bishop children to work in this establishment, let’s just say I don’t want to be the one to eff it all up with the liquor authority.
“You’re not a kid anymore, Jess. Step on up!”
Proudly, I do. With a lighter, she demonstrates a technique calledflaming an orange peel. With the strike of a match and the flick of her fingers, a fireball showers the drink, then vanishes behind a small trail of smoke.
“Doesn’t that burn?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “You’re not really lighting the peel as much as spraying the orange oil against the flame into the glass.” She walks me slowly through the motions. “See?”
I nod. Rumor is, her promotion is in the bag, which leaves her job up for grabs. It’s a long shot, but I’ve been practicing. Thank God for YouTube.
She peers over thick-framed glasses. “Master this trick. People eat it up, and the tips flow like water.” She gestures grandly to the wall of liquor and art-deco accents. “This will all be yours someday.”
Fascinated, I glance around. “There’s so much to learn.”
She tosses a small notebook on the glossy wood. “Here. You want the job? Memorize this.”
Flipping through, I realize it has to be fifty pages of customized cocktails from theAdirondack SunsettoDonovan’s Deadly Twist. But when my gaze hitsBishop’s Breeze, I pause, and my eyes well up. I expected it to be a drink created by Brian, Rex, or Cade—any one of my brothers—but it’s not. It was written by Henry.
Henry James Bishop, my father. My fingers skim across the page as I inhale pride and exhale sadness. Vodka. Lemon. Honey. Club soda with a splash of Moscato. I choke up. I can almost see him making it for mom.
Anita’s warm hand covers mine. “Anything I can do?”
Rewind time. Stop them from getting in that car.
“No,” I say softly.Not unless you can bring my parents back. It takes a breath before the pain subsides and a few blinks to dislodge an annoyingly stubborn tear.
“Lunch?” she says kindly.
I decline with a hopeful grin. “Rain check?” Considering I’m blowing all my money on my gift for Brian, I will absolutely take a free lunch IOU.
Sharp, jabbing pains erupt in the lowest point of my gut.Not now. I suck in a breath to stave it off. A hard pinch comes again, a tight twist. I hug both arms against my belly, wrestling the pain away, grateful that Anita’s too busy to notice.
