Mango habanero wings.
Crispy.
Sticky.
Perfect.
I grin at her because I am always down to make a new friend.
“We sure are. Hi, I’m Esme—this is Bit.”
“Nice to meet you,” she says easily. “I’m Sloane. This place is mine. Well, mine and my brother’s.”
She jerks her chin toward the bar.
I follow her gaze.
And wow.
Big.
Broad.
Gruff-looking guy with streaks of gray at his temples and the kind of presence that says don’t mess with me.
Total opposite of Sloane, who’s all warmth and easy smiles.
“Nice setup,” I tell her honestly. “It’s gorgeous in here.”
“Thanks,” she says, clearly proud.
“Sit with us for a minute,” I offer. “We’re celebrating—and brainstorming apparently.”
Sloane glances back at the bar, then shrugs. “Why not?”
She pulls up a stool just as Bit leans forward, already mid-idea.
“You know,” Bit says, pointing a wing at me, “now that you’re branching off from the van life angle a little, you should totally start highlighting women-owned businesses around here.”
I pause.
Because… that’s actually a really good idea.
“I mean it!” she presses. “Like—local shops, small businesses, people building something from scratch. It fits your whole vibe.”
I think about the fabrics she’d shown me.
The way she lights up talking about her work.
The pride.
The heart behind it.
And yeah…
I can see it.
“I like that,” I admit, nodding slowly. “I really like that.”
