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“Hi, Ms. Lark!”
I squinted against the sun as I looked across the driveway at Wyatt’s farmhouse. Penny’s face was squished against the mesh on the screen door.
I called back to her from my open kitchen window. “Hey, Penny! What are you up to?”
“Dying of boredom.”
I chuckled at her sullen, squished-up face.
“Pickle, stop bothering the neighbor.” The deep rumble of Wyatt’s voice floated up to me.
With a smile, I left the apartment and took the stairs down. “It’s no bother,” I called out.
Penny burst through the door. “See! She’s not busy! Do you want to play? Dad told me you were busy, but you’re not.” She gestured toward me.
I laughed and spread my hands. “Nope. Not busy.”
“Perfect! We can do cartwheels or draw or go for a walk. We can’t watch a movie, because Dad has to look atboringfootball videos.”
“Pickle.” Wyatt pushed through the screen door and stepped onto the covered porch as I stifled a smile. “Leave her be.”
My tongue felt thick as I took in Wyatt, barefoot in jeans and a T-shirt.
Penny’s shoulders fell. “I thought you said we were going to have fun.”
My heart went out to her, and I scrunched my nose. “Football videos don’t sound like much fun.”
Wyatt’s lips pressed together in a firm line as he nodded in defeat. “It’s work.”
“How about a walk? I can take her around the trail and give you a little time to work. Would that be okay?”
Penny lit up at my suggestion as Wyatt looked me over. Under his assessing gaze, I held my chin high and hoped my smile didn’t falter. I loved kids, and Penny was hilarious.
“Please, Daddy! Please please please please.”
“You’re sure it’s not interrupting anything?”
Penny’s fist shot in the air when she knew she’d worn her poor dad down.
“I have all the time in the world. We’ll have a great time.” I held out my hand to Penny as she leaped off the porch stairs to stand at my side.
I had turned to walk away when Wyatt’s grumpy voice rang out. “Be back before dark.”
A shot of laughter erupted from me as I turned to salute him before leaning down and giggling with Penny. “Yes, boss.”
* * *
By Friday night,curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to explore the nightlife in Outtatowner. During my first few days, I’d managed to keep my head down at the bakery, stay in the back, and try not to break any more dishes.
I was mostly successful.
As the days lurched on, more and more tourists had filtered into town, and I could see the shift from lazy days to the controlled chaos of the full-blown tourist season.
The Grudge Holder turned out to be the local Outtatowner bar and dance hall on the far edge of the main strip of roadway. Music pumped from the speakers, and signs outside boastedSummer Specialsand bands that were scheduled all summer long.
In my travels, I found that random townie bars were ripe for people watching and picking up quirky mannerisms I could use on my next gig. It also gave me something to do other than not-so-casually stalk my kitchen window to see if I could catch a glimpse of Wyatt across the driveway.
By 8:00 p.m., the band was playing, the dance floor was full, and happy cheers of encouragement filled the neon-drenched space. I sat back, enjoying the view from a stool at the main bar. The band played a mix of rock-and-roll classics along with a few country songs. I laughed aloud at a twangy version of Harry Styles, and it was good enough to almost get me to my feet.
