“I hate pool parties,” I say, chuckling.
“Of course you do. Your name is Juniper Holly. You smell like vanilla pine and snow all year long,” Jasmine says.
A laugh leaves me at Jasmine’s tease, and I see my breath in its wake.
Dammit Marge.
I curse under my breath as, now, I’ll be thinking of those stupid twins nonstop.
The cold weather has always been much more kind to me than summer. I probably should have made my way to the mountains to settle down. But there’s something about the juxtaposition of crashing saltwater waves and sand while the bitter breeze drags by that tells me I’m in the right place, regardless of how much the summers make me want to vomit.
An ocean breeze cures most things.
My gaze lifts toward the waves again. A couple of families are bundled up in coats as they play in the sand and take a stroll on the shore. One of my favorite pastimes was walking out to the south jetty with my Dad, specifically on my birthday.
It was a small gesture, and yet it meant the world.
Someone’s phone pings with a text—Danielle’s.
“Alright, people. We’re opening in a half-hour. Let’s get to it,” I hear Jasmine say.
I inhale sharply as I place the string on the final hook and turn to look at my handiwork. It’s satisfying seeing the vintage, painted C9 bulbs alive and shining bright, bringing the nostalgia alive. Tacky, vintage Christmas. Rainbow lights. Non-matching wreaths, ornaments, and decor. Tinsel. Santas and Mrs. Claus’s from the 1950s. Whatever your grandmother hoarded in the attic or you could find at the thrift store.
“It looks good, Juni,” he says, holding out his fist for me to bump.
“Teamwork,” I say as my knuckles bump his.
Chester smiles at me and stuffs his hands in his pockets before taking off in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll save you an order of fries for later,” he calls over his shoulder.
“Thanks!” I reply as he pushes through the swinging, red metal door.
“Hey, Juni, you okay to finish opening? I just need to sit a few minutes,” Marge asks.
“Yeah, all good. Take your time. I’m fine out here.”
Jasmine slaps the top of the bar. “Do you need to grab a snack before opening?” she asks me.
“I’ll eat later,” I reply.
“Okay. I’m going to go make sure we’re good on inventory for the weekend,” Jasmine says.
“Sounds good.”
I hear toenails click-clacking against the wooden floor as the others disappear into the kitchen, leaving me alone out front, and I turn my head just in time to see Pack trotting toward me. The Blue Heeler’s tail wags as she trots up to me. I bend down to scratch her ears and boop her nose with mine.
I love that my job allows me to bring her along. Some of our locals come by just to see her and say hi. The past few years, she’s gotten more Christmas presents than anyone else I know.
I’m telling her what a good girl she is and promising her a full course dinner when I hear three raps against the open beachside doors. Pack’s ears perk. She barks a couple of times, and I huff.
Of course an early regular is already here.
Probably Todd.He’s always trying to walk in before I’m ready.
“Come back in a half-hour, Todd,” I say, automatically assuming he’s here for his lunch break. “I’ve still got some opening shit to…”
My voice drifts as I finally peer over my shoulder, having to look twice as I’m pretty sure the embodiment of sin just walkedinto my bar. Pack barks again and steps in front of me as if she’s guarding me, and I reach down to give her a reassuring scratch on the head.
“You’re not Todd,” I say, and I don’t miss the vapor on the air in my breath’s wake.
