“That sunk.”
“It made one helluva of a tree house.”
Dawson sighed. “That it did.”
Jaxon put an arm around Dawson’s shoulders. “Come on, Dawg. Let’s prove to Rosie and everyone in this puddle-jump of a town that the Hennessys should not be underestimated.”
“I don’t have anything to prove to this shithole town.”
“You’re right. Maybe I just want to prove it to myself. Come on, Dawson, we can’t do it without you.”
Huck walked up and slung his arms around them. “Of course, we can do it without him. But it wouldn’t be half as much fun. Come on, Dawg. I’ll let you win at arm wrestling if you say yes.”
Dawson snorted. “I always win at arm wrestling.”
“Only because you cheat. Now are you going to help me get a new truck and boots or not?”
Dawson looked up at the big domed ceiling and blew out his breath. “Fine.”
“Yeehaw!!!” Huck took off his hat and threw it into the air while Dawson rolled his eyes and Jaxon laughed. He stopped laughing when the county clerk stepped out of her office to see who was making all the ruckus.
“What is going on out—” She cut off when she saw them and her eyes widened. “So the gossip is true. The Hennessy Hooligans are back in town.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Promise Springs was named by a group of farmers from Minnesota whose main example of a river was the mighty Mississippi. When they first laid eyes on the narrow ribbon of water winding its way through the land they’d bought, they just assumed it was a spring-fed stream, not a tributary of the Brazos River.
Besides, Promise Springs had a much better ring to it than Promise River. And they saw their new home as the Promised Land and set about turning Promise Springs into their dream town.
It was a dreamy little town.
In the center of the square was the golden domed town hall, surrounded by lush green lawns and hundred-year-old oak trees. On the streets surrounding the town hall were quaint shops and businesses:
Grounds For Divorce, the town’s coffee shop, was run by the A-Sisters. Ada, Adele, and Arlene might have more divorces between them than the entire town put together, but that didn’t stop them from matchmaking.
Two Lips, the flower shop, was run by Charlene Slater. Charlene had been born Charles Michael, but after college he transitioned and became Charlene Michelle. It had taken the townsfolk awhile to get used to the high school defensive football tackle becoming the florist who arranged their Thanksgiving centerpieces while wearing size fourteen high heels. But now, few people remembered yelling, “Crush ‘em, Charlie!” every Friday night at the football games.
Sloppy Joe’s was the only restaurant in town. It was open for lunch and dinner six days a week, but only if you got there before seven o’clock when Joe’s wife Amy Ann locked the doors and then mad-dogged people still eating until they finished up and paid their bill.
There were other businesses as well. Hair Raisin’ Salon and Day Spa, the Promised Treasures Gift Shop, and the Promise Springs post office, pharmacy, mercantile, and hardware store.
And Tully loved them all. Sloppy Joe’s sloppy joes and chocolate-dipped ice cream cones, Grounds For Divorce’s caramel lattes and cinnamon sugar mini donuts, and Charlene’s pretty outside carts filled daily with fresh flowers.
But her absolute favorite shop on the town square was the bookstore, Time To Read. Not only because she loved to read, but also because the bookstore was the one place in town she didn’t feel like everyone was watching and judging her.
Otis Hastings, the owner of the bookstore, didn’t like people as much as he liked books and rarely interacted with his customers. Since Promise Springs got very few tourists and the townsfolk knew where all their favorite books were located on the shelves, there was no need for him too. If customers found something they liked, they rang it up on the old cash register and left the money in the drawer. Otis only interacted if people were talking too loudly or brought food or drink into his store. Then you’d get a royal lecture about the sanctity of a bookstore.
The store with its towering, overstuffed bookshelves was like a holy cathedral. A reverent chapel where you could find comfort and solitude.
And today, Tully needed comfort and solitude.
Since her run in with Jaxon Hennessy at Birdie’s, she’d felt like a sailor who had just stepped off a ship after six months at sea. Wobbly and off-kilter. Like the ground beneath her feet was constantly shifting, even though she knew it wasn’t. She couldn’t focus on anything, including her daily routines. Yesterday morning, she had completely forgotten to feed Dumplin’ her Fancy Feast. When she got home from work, one ticked-off pussycat was waiting at the door to greet her.
Even her daddy noticed something was off.
Probably because she had been clumsier than usual. In the last week, she’d knocked over her cup of coffee three times, kept tripping over the potted plant sitting in the reception area, and, just that morning, she’d walked into the glass partition separating her office space from her daddy’s—resulting in a bloody nose and her daddy insisting she take the rest of the afternoon off.
And maybe a little free time was all she needed. Maybe her emotional turmoil had nothing to do with Jaxon Hennessy. She had been working overtime trying to prove to her daddy and the folks of Promise Springs she could handle the job of deputy. Maybe she just needed to forget about work for a while and relax.
