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“This is going to be interesting,” she mutters as she pulls up beside an obnoxiously large truck.
“Whose truck is that?” I ask. I haven’t seen Cash in anything around town except his patrol car, but he doesn’t really seem like the type to roll around in a jacked-up monster truck.
“It’s Ronnie and Donnie’s.”
“They share a truck?”
“They share everything,” she mutters before turning off the ignition.
A not so terrible rendition of a very popular country song meets us at the door where a guy in a cheap felt hat sits on a stool.
“ID,” he says, handing the person in front of us back her license without looking up.
Instead of pausing to pull her identification out, Adalynn walks right past him, gasping when the guy snaps out his hand and grabs her by the wrist.
“Shit. I mean shoot. I’m so sorry, Adalynn.”
“Chandler Jacobs, watch your mouth.”
The man swallows before speaking again, and all I can do is let my eyes dart back and forth between the two of them.
“Are you going to tell the chief?” He sounds terrified.
“Why are you out here checking IDs?”
“Dad’s cancer is back,” he says, my heart breaking for the sadness in his voice.
Adalynn’s mood shifts immediately. Although it wasn’t okay for him to touch her, she must not operate by the same rules because her hand reaches out and squeezes his shoulder.
“We’ll have another fundraiser for him,” she promises.
He shakes his head. “It’s too far gone.”
Like most men around here, he straightens his spine, clears his throat, and after a quick blink of his eyes, he locks that pain away, a faint smile on his lips.
“May I see your ID, please, ma’am?”
I hand over my license, slipping it back into my purse before urging Adalynn forward because a line is starting to form behind us.
“I hate it when men do that,” I mutter as we walk inside. “Why are they so afraid of emotion? It’s only human to be upset that your parent is dying. He shouldn’t have to feel shame for that.”
Adalynn sighs, but she doesn’t agree or disagree with me. When I look over at her, I realize she’s already moved on from the interaction at the front door. Someone is sitting at what has been designated as her table. I try to hide my smile at the irritation in her eyes, but she acts like we have assigned seats and she’s going to get into trouble if the teacher walks in and finds her sitting somewhere else.
“He’d find you in a room full of a million people,” I tell her, knowing the Hairy Frog isn’t so big that Cash could miss her if he just spent a minute looking around the room when he shows up to make his rounds.
I head toward the bar, but Adalynn walks forward toward her table.
“I’ll get your soda,” I call after her.
“Jäger?” Walker asks with a grin when I reachthe bar.
“Kind of busy here tonight. Looks like the band is drawing people in. Gin martini, please.”
Walker begins to make my drink. “I think it’s an early holiday crowd, honestly. I don’t know if the live music thing is going to work out. People are still trying to talk over the singing. I want to bring in new folks, but not at the disappointment of the regulars.”
I nod in understanding, but I don’t have the knowledge to help him figure it out.
“The locals should keep you in business,” I say, hoping I’m right. “I need a diet soda for Adalynn, as well.”
