Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I snorted. “Sure, honey. All by myself.”
“And,” the little con artist continued, “Gamma said, ‘Poor Brooks is gonna be devastated when he hears.’ And Mama said she thought you were more likely to be tickled off ’cause it means more work for the Lickin’. What’s tickled off?”
“Ticked off, kiddo. It means angry.”
“Oh. So which are you? Devastated or tickled?”
“Neither yet.” And, please God, neither at all. “I should probably get up and find out what happened, huh? Don’t suppose you know what it was?”
I wasn’t too worried. My mother could out-drama Meryl Streep any day of the week, and I figured if it were a real emergency, someone would have woken me.
Payton shrugged. “All I know is Gamma said today is a day of mourning for all of Tennessee. But doesn’t Tennessee have mornings every day, Uncle B?”
I snorted, suddenly understanding why my sister sometimes looked shell-shocked. Her kid was too smart by half.
“You know what? If you let me grab my clothes and shower, you can have this room to yourself for the whole day.”
Payton’s face screwed up. “No Myleigh?”
“Nope.”
Payton was gone before I could blink an eye, and I was left with the remnants of a headache and a still-warm bed. I looked around the room, hoping some clean clothes would fly out of my suitcase and a cup of coffee would magic itself into my hands. I felt the overwhelming desire to hear Mal’s voice just to center myself. Last night seemed like a really long time ago.
I reached for my phone to call him… which was when I realized I didn’t have his number. I’d given him a scrap of paper with my number on it the other day, but he’d never used it or given me his digits in return.
What the hell was wrong with me? I’d hooked up with the man, I was low-key dreaming up ways to see him after leaving the Thicket, but I couldn’t get in touch with him? Priorities, Brooks.
I grabbed a pair of jeans and yet another Head Licker shirt, took a second to make sure my suit for the bachelor auction tonight was hanging crease-free in the closet, gave one last longing look to the bed, and forced myself into the shower. It was Friday, which meant I had approximately twenty-seven appearances around town on my docket that morning, a presentation to put together in the next couple of days, a really hot guy to hunt down, and some tragedy in the kitchen to manage. I didn’t have time to rest.
I felt a little more human when I was clean, and I headed down the hall for coffee. The television was on in the den, and I heard Gracie in there talking to Payton and Myleigh. I expected to find my mom in the kitchen, stress-brewing vats of sweet tea, which was her usual response in a crisis, but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, the room was occupied by my ex-girlfriend, who leaned against the counter looking fresh as a daisy in a white dress, yellow shoes, and a cheerleader ponytail… and my fake boyfriend, who was all up in her personal space.
“Ava Marie!” I gasped, and Ava straightened guiltily before she realized it was me.
Her pretty eyes narrowed on me. “Brooks Johnson, don’t you have some moonshine and Fuzzy Thickets to sleep off?”
I grinned as I crossed to the coffeepot. I’d always appreciated Ava’s sassiness, but now I felt like I could enjoy it more since it wasn’t tangled up in all those things I’d thought I was supposed to feel for her and didn’t.
“Did that, mostly. I have to meet Coach Cosway on the football field by nine to judge the football throw.” While trying very hard not to be distracted by memories of what had happened under the bleachers the night before. “Then I have to hand out blue ribbons at the craft fair. So, what’s this big drama Payton told me about?”
Paul shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I was working until Ava texted she and her mom were on their way over. You might recall that work is that thing we do on Fridays when we’re not sleeping off moonshine—”
“Yeah, yeah.” I turned to Ava. “What do you know?”
“Nothing.” I gave her a disbelieving look, since her mother was as big a gossip as my own, and she pursed her lips. “If you must know, my mother and I aren’t speaking to each other at present. I was eating a donut at Wally’s this morning when she informed me that white was not a very slimming color on me.” She sniffed and ran a hand down the front of her dress. “Do I look… fat?” she asked Paul.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered with such sincerity that even I went “Awww.” On the inside, of course.