Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Since it’s a bar, there’s no reason why I would’ve gone before I turned twenty-one, and when I moved here, I wasn’t in any shape to try out different bars. I was too busy mourning from inside my room. And now, if I’m not at Exposed Ink, I’m either with my family or in the pool house.
Jeez, when I put it like that, maybe my therapist and Natalia—hell, my entire family—aren’t far off when they gripe at me about not getting out and living my life.
“Well,” Trudy says, “we have ourselves a Black Cat virgin.” She smirks and glances toward the bartender. “Get this girl a Black Cat, stat.” The bartender nods, and then Trudy looks back at me. “It’s our house drink,” she explains, “and it’ll be the reason you keep coming back.”
“Just make sure it doesn’t contain any fruit,” Shane says before I can. Then, he glances at me. “Anything else you’re allergic to?”
“Carrots,” I tell them both. “Raw fruit and carrots.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame,” Trudy says. “So many good drinks are made with fruit. But you’re good because the Black Cat doesn’t contain any fruit.” She looks at Shane. “Your usual?”
“Yes, please,” he tells her.
“Oscar,” she yells to the bartender, “one Berliner Weisse for this one.” She nods toward Shane, and Oscar nods.
“Here’s the menu,” Trudy says. “I’ll be back with your drinks and to take your food order. I recommend the sampler. It’s a little bit of everything delicious.” And with a wink, she saunters off to the next table.
“She’s …”
“A lot,” Shane says with a laugh. “But she and Billy are family.”
“Oh, you’re related?”
Shane shakes his head. “When you work twenty-four-hour shifts with the same people in the same station for years, they become like family. We’ve been through it all together. The ups and downs. I was there when they got into their first fight, when he proposed, when they got married, and when Trudy had the crazy idea to open this place. They’ve been to most of Taylor’s birthday parties and watched her grow up. There are five guys on a shift, and aside from one guy who left last year to move to the city, we’ve all been working together for fifteen years.”
“That’s awesome.” And completely relatable. “While I have my aunts and uncles, my parents have a few other friends that I grew up considering family. I didn’t even know we weren’t related until I got older.”
Shane grins. “That’s exactly how it is with us at the station. Even though I’m a single dad, between my parents and the guys I work with and their families, I’ve never felt like I was raising Taylor alone.”
“That’s how I imagined it would be when I got pregnant,” I admit. “I mean, I had Brandon, but from the moment I found out I was pregnant, my little girl was loved by so many people.”
Shane smiles sadly, and I expect him to ask what happened—sure, he knows the basics, but I didn’t go into specifics—but he doesn’t. I’ve noticed that while he asks questions, they’re never too deep, and he always lets me tell him how much—or little—I want. He might guide the conversation, but he lets me control it.
“I can believe that,” Shane says. “I’ve only met your cousins and dad, but it’s clear you’re loved.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “I am.”
We go over the menu, and when Trudy returns with our drinks, we order the sampler, as she suggested. Once she leaves, I take a sip of my drink, and the perfect mix of sweet and bitter hits my senses.
“What do you think?” Shane asks, taking a sip of his beer.
“It’s really good,” I say, taking another sip.
“Trudy is obsessed with making new drinks. At every party and several nights a week here, she’s testing out new drinks and forcing everyone to try them.”
“I love cooking and baking, but making drinks isn’t my area of expertise,” I admit with a laugh that has Shane grinning. “I swear, no matter what I do, they’re never as good as the ones at the coffee shop.”
“You should ask Taylor to show you,” he says. “She’s been working at the coffee shop for several months now, and she makes all types of frappe mocha latte shit.”
I throw my head back with a laugh at his words, and it hits me how long it’s been since I’ve enjoyed myself with anyone, let alone a man.
Fuck … a man.
Who isn’t Brandon.
My husband.
No, not my husband. My late husband.
Because he’s gone.
And I’m here.
Just as the guilt starts to seep through the cracks that Shane has created, my favorite song comes on. Memories of dancing to it with my mom in our living room while we sang at the top of our lungs hit me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m standing and extending my hand to Shane.