“I can rattle off the stats of how much more engagement we get when I have Junie in the images, and thanks to Teller, I can tell you how much more there is when it’s Copper Summit royalty.”
“Royalty,” she scoffed. “I don’t even work the bar anymore.”
She might’ve been born a Kerrigan, married a James, but to Copper Summit customers, she was a Bailey. “I can blur you like I’m doing with Wynter.”
Any edits with Teller made the fans go feral. I’d had so much fun responding to comments. They were still pouring in. If I had posted Tenor, with his soulful eyes behind his glasses? A cowboy nerd? We’d sell out.
Now I was grateful he hadn’t wanted them shared. Otherwise, I’d be postingDrink in the cowboy all you want. He’ll be gone before you know it.
Except he had tried coming back.
The space behind my sternum throbbed. Had I done the right thing, or had I condemned myself to a lifetime of pining for one man?
How could I trust him again? I’d been his gateway date. Either he’d shut himself back into bachelorhood for another ten years, or he’d come into the bar with his new fiancée and invite me to the wedding.
Before I could start spitting and snarling, I pasted on a bright smile. “I’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, but I promise the images will be lovely. Wynter created the apple-muffin old-fashioned, and people will love seeing her with it. I think you should pose by yours.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’m wearing a hoodie.”
“Perfect for a drink you named ‘campfire delight.’” The less photoshopped, the better. “You can approve any image I use.”
“Have Gideon do it,” Wynter suggested. “He’ll say yes to them all.”
Autumn scowled at her but then relaxed. “All right.”
I got to work, using both my phone and camera to get photos. Teller walked in to ask Wynter about the spring campaigns she was working on and he got rooked into modeling too.
I was smiling and laughing when the first customers for the night showed up. Wynter and Autumn cleaned up the mess left behind from their mixology session while I took the new arrivals’ orders.
Today had been nice. After the last Friday I’d worked when Tenor had stopped in, I hadn’t been sure if I should keep picking up shifts, or if I should drop to just Wednesday evenings. Then other family members wouldn’t have to work late to lock up.
How miserable was I?
My job was important to me, but if I had to move on to keep from going home and sobbing myself to sleep, then I would. I hadn’t searched for any new positions yet though. My first step would be to give up the tasting room shifts.
I hadn’t done that yet either. Without this extra side hustle, Wednesday and Friday nights would become just like any other night of the week. I’d crawl into bed, scroll for an hour, then prop up my book to read.
Mom’s house was up for sale and she had her travel van ready to purchase when it sold. Soon I wouldn’t even have my once-a-week plain pasta dinner with her.
Wild woman, right here. Who wouldn’t want me?
The list had grown by one, and that one made it hard for me to breathe. Tears pricked behind my eyes. I turned my back to everything to take a quick inventory. My height worked for me. I could see how glassy my eyes were getting in the mirror behind the bottles. I blinked rapidly to banish the moisture.
Autumn stopped at my side. “We’re taking off.” She inspected my face. “Is there anything you need?”
Calling on that energy from earlier, I flashed another fake smile. “Nope. It’s looking like a busy night.” Tourists were pouring through town in the last weeks before school started.
“Sounds good.” She turned to go, then spun back, her red hair flying. “Oh. There’s a book under the cabinet for you.”
A book? Why? More customers walked in and Autumn scurried out.
I worked for a couple of hours. The book had to wait. Just as I dropped a candied cherry into a bourbon lemonade, Cara walkedin. She glanced round the room, a slight expression of distaste on her face.
No Brock.
What was she doing here alone?
She came to the counter and slid onto the stool at the corner of the bar. The one Tenor and I had?—
