“That was quick thinking,” I tease, my lips curling up into a sly smile.
“Beau doesn’t need that kind of trouble. He’s already dealing with enough shit for the rest of his life. If anyone’s taking in that girl, it’s me. Someone ought to teach her some manners.”
That gets my attention. “What is it with you and her anyway?”
“Nothing,” he says matter-of-factly, and I know that's all I’m getting from him.
“Okay, well, I’ll let her know she can move in as early as next month. It gives her some time to settle in before I bring her on board to help me. She already did yesterday, and let me tell you, the girl has an eye for design.”
He doesn’t answer me, instead gets back to the task at hand, so I turn to start some of my work. I pull my binder out of my bag and turn to the page with my most recent design mock-up for this kitchen. It’s a smaller Craftsman-style fixer-upper Monty purchased last year but hadn’t gotten around to fixing. It will be my last project with him other than Nash and Bailey’s home, but that won’t be ready for another six months at least.
“Howdy, Bishops,” Billie exclaims as she enters the house. Unlike me, she’s careful to step around the lumber on the floor, her hot pink cowboy boots clicking on the hardwood currently covered with a protective film.
“You handle her,” Monty grunts, turning away from both of us.
He is definitely not someone who likes to be bothered while he works and the crew of men working with him are nowhere to be seen because they know when the boss is in, they are to stay as far away from him as possible when he’s in one of these moods.
“Rude, cowboy,” Billie snarls, but she pays no more attention to him. “Guess what? Oh my God, never mind, you’re never going to guess. Guess who has her first official gig this weekend?”
Her excitement is contagious, and probably because I’m already in such a great mood, I let her tell me the news. “No way.”
“Yours truly, the new, up-and-coming Country Music Princess, Miss Billie Cole.” She shrieks, and I can’t help but scream along with her.
“Billie, oh my God. How did this happen?”
“Stingers is having a honky-tonk next weekend, like legit what they had back when it was The Old Nellie,” she says, referring to the Legendary Honky Tonk that was Stingers Tavern before Bailey and Jase turned it into what it is now.
The Old Nellie stayed vacant for decades after it closed its doors, but the rich history remains etched into the walls. It was initially what Bailey wanted to restore when we’d planned on purchasing the property, and I feel some sort of ache that I wasn't able to be a part of it like we’d planned. Though, having Jase on board was the best decision she could have made. He’s a businessman foremost, and the plans he has, not to mention the contract he got with Lane & Co., are sure to take Singers Tavern far.
Monty turns, and suddenly his interest is piqued. “Honky tonk?”
“Yes, Cowboy. Boots, beer, and dancing. Oh, and Theo’s performing,” she says, the last part sounding annoyed.
“My brother Theo?”
“The one and only,” she mocks, and I laugh at the eye roll she gives. “But I can’t be mad, because guess who’s singing with him?” Billie’s grin turns wicked. “Me.”
Monty glances at me, his lips twitching. “So sweet old Billie Cole is getting her big break?”
“Yup, I had a meeting with an agent yesterday, and he managed to get a record exec from Theo’s label to come to Crossroads. I still can’t believe this is happening. I mean, I knew I wanted it, but I didn’t know how much until I realized it’s happening, you know?”
Monty eyes me quizzically, like he understood none of what she just said, but I know my best friend, and I know how much this means to her. It’s what Bailey and I have been telling her to do for years, but I’m glad she came to this decision on her own.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Monroe
Stingers Tavern smells like beer, cigar smoke and barbecue, which have lately become some of my favorite scents. At nearly seven months pregnant, I’m craving it all. I think it’s the forbidden aspect of not being able to consume alcohol that has made it become so enticing. Instead, I’m sipping on my margarita mocktail—a mix of lime juice, a sweet simple syrup and soda water.
The wooden floors are vibrating from all the non-stop dancing that has been going on for the last two hours. Neon signs hang above the stage, flickering with a countdown to showtime that has the crowd going wild.
Men and women dressed in denim and cowboy boots all around us, making the energy in the room soar to new heights. This is exactly what I pictured when Billie described the ambiance of the event Bailey had planned. She’s turned into a full-time event planner, and this is another enormous success.
Jase’s hand is glued to the small of my back as we walk through the crowd toward the long wooden bar for a refill. I canfeel all eyes on us. People in this town never forget a scandal, even when you give them something better to talk about.
“Don’t let go,” I murmur, looking over my shoulder.
His mouth curves into a sly smile, and he kisses my exposed shoulder. “Wasn’t planning to.”
