Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
“Uh.” I glanced around the room for someone else who could actually answer this, but when no one immediately came into view, I shrugged. “Nice, I guess. Flynn runs a tight ship.”
She nodded. “He must if you left your New York job to work here full-time.”
The bubble of startled laughter erupted from my mouth without conscious thought. “Me? Leave New York? No.” I grinned. “Flynn and the guys are slammed preparing for a big event next weekend, and I figured I’d lend a hand while I’m home for the weekend, that’s all. My actual job is working for a consumer products group specializing in beverage distribution, so it’s not too far out of my wheelhouse, if you think about it. Helping out here has actually helped me understand my clients better.”
“Oh.” Brittany seemed bemused by my panic-babbling response. “No, that’s cool. I was just wondering if Flynn was hiring.” She shrugged. “I mean, I would love to work here.”
“Right. Of course.” I felt my cheeks go hot. “I’ll ask him.”
“Would you? Thanks! I gotta say, it’s nice to have you back in town for a little while, at least. We missed you. And I bet you missed us, too.” She gave me a happy smile as she turned back to her food.
I clutched the tray against my chest like a shield and made my way through a throng of flirty tourists and back-slapping locals to the kitchen.
Brittany was right. I had missed Honeybridge. After just a couple of weeks, I’d come to realize that this town was much more than two camps at silent war. It was a diverse group of people with their own experiences and ideas. And those people—including Flynn—had been happy to make a place for me once I’d gotten my head out of my ass and stopped swanning from country club to garden party to marina like the entitled aristocrat my parents had raised me to be. I could be the new JT Wellbridge in my old town. I already was.
So why were you so defensive about Brittany thinking you worked at the Tavern?
The voice in my head sounded a lot like Flynn’s, and the question was so unexpected that I froze in the doorway to the kitchen with the tray still in my hands.
There was nothing wrong with working at the Tavern. Obviously not. The place was gorgeous. The food was delicious. The mead was exceptional. And the boss was maybe the best man I’d ever known.
So why had Brittany’s innocent comment made me defensive?
The answer hit me just as forcefully as the question had: because the lessons we learned from our parents were insidious. You could confront them, reject them, flee them, try to kill them with fire… and still, the roots remained buried deep.
And even at thirty-two, having long ago decided that I would make my own choices and be my own person… I’d gotten defensive because the son of Patricia Wellbridge and the Senator was supposed to be a high-powered executive at a major company, not a man who served at a tavern like one of those Honeycutts.
I did have a Wellbridge attitude. And it had been impairing my vision.
“JT?” Dan demanded irritably. “There a reason you’re stuck in the middle of the swinging door? Pick a direction, buddy.”
I nodded without really seeing him. The problem was that I didn’t want to pick a direction. I wanted to be Frog, the Honeybridge native who enjoyed quiet mornings at the Retreat fishing with Pop Honeycutt, late nights at the Tavern kissing Flynn stupid behind the bar, and long, lazy backyard potlucks that became impromptu jam sessions with new and old friends. But I also wanted to be JT Wellbridge—the successful salesman who’d thumbed his nose at his parents’ expectations, chosen his own life path, and gotten every bit as successful as his mother had wanted him to be… without her interference.
I didn’t want to—couldn’t—give up either of those things. And that was what my problem boiled down to, really.
“JT?” Dan said, irritation turning to anger when I still hadn’t moved.
It was like the man didn’t realize I was having important life revelations here.
“Yeah, sorry.” I stepped aside, and Dan rolled his eyes before brushing past me.
After depositing the tray in the kitchen, I returned to the bar, hoping to steal Flynn away for a brief chat to help me process this… but Cas had taken over the bar while Flynn chatted with a table of tourists.
I was surprised to see Reagan sitting on one of the tall stools, nursing a lemonade.
“Hey,” I said, moving close enough to talk over the bar without yelling. “I thought you were out at the lake with Brantleigh and that crew.”
He shook his head glumly. “I left early. It’s exhausting to be around people who are so shallow and immature.”