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I opened my mouth. “It’s not my—”
“Shh,” Hattie cut in smoothly, elbowing me in the side. “Let him do his thing.”
Harvey leaned back, cleared his throat with great ceremony, and then— “Ohhh hap—py biiirthdaaaay—”
“Fucking hell,” Ryder moaned. “You had to encourage him, Hattie.”
Hattie didn’t even flinch. She just picked up another shot and tossed it back like she’d known this was coming and had prepared. “Keep going, Harvey,” she said. “You’re doing amazing.”
Harvey took that as permission and powered through, inventing lyrics as he went, and his jaw clicking every so often along the way. “To yooouuu, and also, meeeerry Christmaaas…”
Sterling bit the inside of his cheek, and his shoulders were shaking with laughter as Harvey finished with a dramatic flourish and a bow before holding his beer in the air. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“Umm, thank you,” I said, because I had no idea what had just happened, but correcting Harvey felt like bad luck.
He beamed, took a swig of his beer, and wandered off, still muttering something about cake and how birthdays used to be simpler.
“That was invigorating,” Hattie said, pushing a shot glass toward me.
“You can stand next to him next time,” Ryder practically snarled as he pressed on the ear Harvey had been singing in.
“This is my last one,” I groaned as I picked up the shot and threw it back, wincing as the tequila burned down my throat.
Standing in The Hollow, shot glass warm in my hand, laughter ringing around me, I felt like pieces of me were starting to click into place.
I still had to get admitted in Montana to officially practice, but…it was a start.
Maybe I wasn’t destined to be lost forever…maybe I’d just been wandering for a while.
“Ask me for that ever again, and I’ll break your face,” Babs snarled at someone two stools down, her voice a gravelly threat that sliced the air clean in half, daring anyone to test her. She reached up, slid a knife out of her hair, and slammed it straight down into the bar between his fingers.
The thunk was so loud it silenced the room for a moment.
The man yelped and recoiled, nearly falling off his stool.
I stared at Babs in awe…and a little fear, wondering where a woman learned a move like that. And whether Blackwood offered continuing education courses.
“He had the audacity,” Babs said, pointing a finger at him similarly to the knife she’d just thrown, “to order a lemon drop. At my fucking bar.”
The man opened his mouth, thought better of it…and then scurried away.
Ryder snorted. “Babs, as your sheriff, I’m begging you to stop committing felonies before happy hour.”
“It wasn’t a felony,” she snapped. “It was a warning.”
“The knife really sold it,” Ryder muttered.
Hattie tilted her head, studying Babs like a Discovery Channel narrator. “Okay, but lemon drops alone don’t usually activate Murder Mode Deluxe. What’s actually going on?”
Babs’s mouth tightened as she yanked the knife free and tucked it back into her hair. She grabbed a glass and started polishing it with unnecessary violence.
“Kelsey didn’t show for her shift,” she said flatly. “She didn’t call or text. She didn’t even fake a stomach bug,” Babs went on with clenched teeth. “Which means I’ve been behind all night, my ice is melting faster than my patience, and now I’ve got men ordering candy drinks like it’s a bachelorette party. Do you see Magic Mike in my bar?” she snarled.
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Hattie mused, squinting thoughtfully before hiccuping. “Because I feel like several men in this town could audition.” Babs stared at her in disgust, and Hattie shrugged. “I’m just saying. Chaps are very accessible around here.”
Babs turned back to the bar with a disgusted huff. “Everybody drink faster.”
Somehow I found another shot in my hand, and I quickly tossed it back, snorting at Sterling’s impressed look. “I’m just following orders,” I told him with a wink.
