Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” She balances her tray holding two more pints for another table with little effort. “Where you comin’ from?”
“Kingston area,” I answer vaguely, hoping that’s the end of the conversation.
Her eyes widen with interest. “One of my best friends went to Queen’s. She tried to get me to visit. They have those thousand islands. I’ve heard they’re incredible. You ever been?”
“Nope. Didn’t make it there this time.”
“Well, there’s always next time, right?”
Jameson snorts into his beer before cutting in to change the subject. “Hey, so how’s my beer been moving?”
“Decent.” She nods. “Sold two pints and a pitcher so far today.”
He frowns. “But … you sold those to me.” His shoulders fall with dismay as the rest of our table bellows with laughter.
With a wink for Jameson and a parting smile for me, Shawna trots off to the next table, her hips swaying.
“It’s good beer!” Jameson laments, holding his glass out so Uncle Wyatt can top it up.
“It is good beer, son,” his father placates. “It’s why you’re my favorite.”
“Look who I found outside.” Jon returns from his trip to his truck with Jack in tow, earning another round of greetings.
“And I heard that.” Jack points an accusatory finger at his father before appropriating a chair from a nearby table and making room on the other side of his younger brother, across from me.
“I thought you had Olivia tonight,” Jameson shifts over to give him room.
“So did I,” Jack mutters, and leaves it at that. From what I’ve heard, the separation has been rocky, his ex-wife using their daughter against him at every turn. He juts his chin at me. “How’s it goin’?”
“It’s goin’.”
“Yeah. Same.” He grabs a spare glass and pours himself a drink.
“So, I couldn’t help but notice …” Jon saunters over to our side of the table then, a large Kraft paper bag in his grip. “Somethin’ was missing this week, while we were all so hard at work, and I had to rectify it fast.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out a sable-brown cowboy hat.
“A Smithbilt.” Mak nods with approval. “That’s a nice one too.”
“Made in my hometown.” Jon offers it to me, his chest puffing out with pride as if he cut the fabric with his own two hands.
“I … uh …” Fuck. Collecting the gift—because it’s obviously a gift—I mumble, “Thanks.” It’s soft within my grip.
“Beaver pelt,” Jack says, as if reading my mind. “I got one just like it.”
Is there no one in my family who hasn’t been influenced by Jon?
“Well! Go on!” Wyatt pushes, elbowing my side.
“You’re really going to make me do this in here?” I look around the table. “Isn’t that bad luck or something?”
“No, that’s breaking a mirror. Come on!” Dad pushes, a smug grin on his face. The bastard knows I hate this whole production.
They all stare at me expectantly.
Stifling my groan, I slip the stupid hat on.
The table erupts with cheers and loud applause, earning plenty of head turns—definitely not what I’m aiming for.
“All right, fuck off, all of you.” But I can’t help my smile as I hang it on a nearby coat hook.
“The first and last time that boy’s gonna wear that. I’d put money on it,” my dad says through a sip.
“I’ll take that wager. You just wait. Logan’ll see the light.” Satisfied, Jon retakes his seat, tapping his glass against my father’s in cheers, like they’ve achieved something.
A hint of jealousy burns inside my gut, even if I had no expectations for decent relationships with anyone.
“Hey, did you know Keegan is friends with Chandra?” Jameson asks his brother, pulling me back to this side of the table.
“Who?”
“That woman you hooked up with last time?”
“Oh. No. Why?”
“’Cause they’re both sitting at a table, spearing the back of your head with daggers.”
Jack curses. “Where?”
“Two tables behind us.”
My attention immediately draws to the women in question—both in their early thirties and attractive, both staring at Jack’s back as if waiting for him to turn around.
“Yeah, so the brunette in the blue shirt?” Jameson leans toward me as he explains, “Dumbass fucked her out back in his truck and then took off.”
“That’s not true! I walked her to her car before I left,” Jack retorts. “And I told her up front I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Which is the same thing you told her friend the weekend before when you took her out to your truck.” Jameson teases. “Can’t wait till they compare notes.”
Jack gulps his beer in answer.
I chuckle at the two of them. Despite their constant bickering, they’re obviously close.
Would Jay and I have remained this close had that night not happened? Would we be sitting at the Bale House, drinking beer and swapping stories? Given the things I’ve learned about him since that night … probably not.
“So, Logan, what about you?” Jameson asks.