Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Summer talks my ear off the entire way.
“Norah is so cool.”
“Norah is so fun.”
“Norah is so pretty.”
“Norah is so smart.”
My daughter is in love, just as I knew she would be, and I don’t bother trying to correct her.
If only I’d realized how much she wasn’t the only one in danger.
Norah
Friday night and I’m at the only bar in town.
After we grabbed a bite to eat at the pizza joint on Main Street, I tried to convince Josie to have a drink with me, but she outright refused. It’s safe to say the rejection has everything to do with the handsome bartender—and owner of this joint—who greeted me when I arrived a few minutes ago.
“How’s the new job going?” Clay asks as he sets a glass of Pinot Noir down in front of me. “Hope Ben is treating you well.”
I’m not surprised Clay knows Bennett hired me for the assistant’s position. Bennett Bishop is a very private person, but from what I’ve witnessed since I arrived in Red Bridge, Clay Harris is one of his closest friends.
And considering how my first interaction with Bennett went, it’s a surprise that I don’t even have to lie. “The first three days were great. I honestly can’t put into words how thankful I am for the opportunity.”
“Good. That’s good.” He considers me for a few beats, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to move the subject to my sister. With the way he was hot on her heels that night we came into the bar after Thomas showed up in town, I’d be naïve not to expect it.
I still have no idea what went down between them, but the fact that they were married and got divorced makes me think it was something big. Truthfully, it takes a huge effort for me not to start asking him questions that might give me some answers. I don’t, though. I’d never go against Josie’s trust like that.
“You know, I’ve known Bennett nearly my whole damn life,” Clay states, and I’m floored Josie’s name is absent from his lips. “We grew up together. Got in a lot of trouble together when we were crazy teens.” He winks. “I know he can be a real dick sometimes, but there’s a reason he’s like a brother to me. I’d walk through hot fire for him and his daughter, and I know he’d do the same for me.”
“I’m pretty sure I’d walk through hot fire for Bennett’s daughter too,” I comment, and Clay’s face brightens with a smile. “I feel spoiled that I get to spend time with her while I’m working.”
“That little girl is special, isn’t she?”
I nod. “Like God put an angel here on earth.”
I’ve only known Summer for a short time, but for the past three days, every morning when I’ve woken up, I’ve felt excited to spend time with her. And Bennett, too.
“That little girl is his everything,” Clay says, leaning his elbows on the bar. His voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear him over the bar noise. “Since the day she came into this world, everything he does, every decision he’s made, it’s all for her.”
There are so many unknowns about Bennett’s past. I don’t know how he ended up in Red Bridge or why it appears he’s been out of the art scene for the past ten years. I don’t know what happened with Summer’s mother or why she isn’t in the picture at all. Hell, I don’t even know what disease has that little girl pretty much immobilized to a chair.
“Just…be good to them, yeah?”
“I will.” I nod, and Clay stands to his feet when a patron at the other end of the bar gestures toward him.
But before he goes, he leans toward me and says one last thing. “If you happen to fall in love with them, just know, they’re more than worth it. They’re everything.”
And then he walks away like he didn’t just drop a bomb of truth into my lap.
Well, shit. What in the heck am I supposed to do with that?
Come to terms with the fact that seeing yourself falling in love with Bennett and Summer doesn’t feel like such a hard task. If anything, it feels easier than breathing.
I try not to focus on those thoughts or the reasons they’re there in the first place. Instead, I turn on my barstool and face the crowd behind me.
The Country Club is jam-packed with what feels like half the town, and Earl is onstage giving his best impression of a karaoke star. He belts out the lyrics to “Take Me Home, Country Roads,” and I’m certain if John Denver were still alive, he wouldn’t be upset he missed the show. And when Earl’s voice cracks on the chorus and causes a horrible screeching sound to echo from the microphone, I turn back toward the bar and try to hide the cringe on my face.