A Simple Hello (Cooper Town Boys #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Cade

I walk toward the bar, carrying two cases of bottles so my brother can restock, all while belting out a classic Billy Ray Cyrus tune from the early nineties about broken hearts.

I lift my chin to the regulars as I pass by, and then paste on a bright, charming smile to a group of ladies standing at the bar, waiting for their drinks.

“Ladies,” I state as I walk past, throwing them a wink.

I get the result I’m expecting when I hear their giggles behind me. Setting the cases on the floor, I get to work stocking what’s low.

“You don’t have to do that, but we appreciate it,” Lizzie says as she passes, carrying two drinks for the giggle girls behind me.

Lizzie owns this place now. The Tipsy Lizard.

It’s been our hangout since we were old enough to legally drink, and maybe even a little before then, until Chuck, the previous owner, would kick us out.

Lizzie bought this place back in April, and in the last four months has completely transformed it into a bar everyone wants to hang out at.

The best part is, she kept the old-school, classic look with tons of old alcohol memorabilia, and just brightened the place up with some good ol’ fashioned cleaning and painting.

The place looks great, and because of those changes, it’s been busier than ever.

Of course, I don’t actually work here. That’s my twin brother, Collin.

He’s worked here part time since returning from the military.

Between this and his job as a full-time firefighter, he stayed plenty busy.

Didn’t take much time for a personal life, thanks to a bitch of an ex who did a number on him when he was finishing his stint in the Air Force.

Then he met Lizzie.

Oh, my brother tried to fight their connection, but it was too strong.

He crumbled like a house of cards and fell head over heels in love with her.

Now, they are dating and talking about getting a dog.

She wants a loyal companion she can bring to work, and he likes the idea of her having one to protect her while he’s not here.

Rumor has it they’re going to the shelter next week to pick one out, and I’m pretty certain that means they’ll be living at the same home sooner than later.

Lizzie lives in the apartment above the bar, and even though she’s put a lot of time and money into fixing it up, I’m sure she’d much rather move to Collin’s place when the time is right.

Though, I think they stay upstairs a lot, thanks to the convenience of its location.

All I know is my brother’s completely smitten with the woman, and even though I don’t necessarily have firsthand understanding of it, I’m happy for him.

“Here,” Lizzie states, handing me a bottle of my favorite beer after I tear down the cardboard cases.

“Well, if this is my reward for helping out, I’m all yours,” I state with a wink and a smile.

She rolls her eyes, clearly on to my game. “Go hit on some poor unsuspecting woman.”

With a Cheshire grin, I boast, “On it, Lizard. Don’t wait up for me.”

Her laughter follows me as I take off to the bin in the dry storage room where they place the broken-down cardboard boxes. Once I’ve deposited them, I grab my beer and return to the bar. Johnny Cash plays loudly through the speakers as I worm my way to the side where the pool table is located.

A group I know well is over there, playing a game and shooting the shit.

Before I even get close enough to hear them, I know the trash talk is high.

And the biggest culprit? That’d be my younger sister, Charli.

She’s ruthless when it comes to running her mouth in a game of…

well, anything. Pool, darts, football…everything. She’s a menace.

“Hey,” I holler when I join everyone in the corner we’ve claimed.

“Cade!” my oldest friend, Alex, greets. “Get over here. Your sister is kicking Wyatt’s ass.”

Charli smiles proudly before lining up her next shot and sinking the eight ball with ease.

“She fucking cheats,” Wyatt grumbles, dropping his stick on the table. I don’t fail to notice there are five or six of his striped balls left on the table.

“Don’t be a sore loser, Larimore,” she chastises, narrowing her eyes and holding out her hand.

“Whatever, Miller.” He pulls a ten out of his pocket and hands it over.

“Thank you,” she sings, taking her winnings and sliding it inside the pocket of her jeans. “Who’s next to lose ten bucks?”

“‘I’m your Huckleberry,’” Quinn announces, quoting the infamous Doc Holliday line from the movie Tombstone as he stands up from his stool and makes his way toward the table. Quinn has been our youngest brother’s best friend since he was little. Where one went, the other was closely behind.

Quinn didn’t come from the best homelife and spent a lot of time with all of us, and because of that, our youngest brother and his sidekick used to love bugging the hell out of us, especially Charli.

Quinn is an expert at pushing her buttons, and I can’t wait to watch the show, because something tells me these two might come to blows by the end of their game.

Figuratively speaking, of course. Neither would ever resort to physical violence.

There are four Miller kids, and I suppose, technically, I’m second in line.

But only by five minutes. My identical twin, Collin, was born first, followed very closely by yours truly.

Then, three years later, our sister, Charlotte, or Charli as we’ve always called her, came along.

Then, when we thought our family was perfect as it was, my parents announced Camden’s addition to our family.

I wanted a puppy, but whatever.

Turns out, I have three best friends for life.

We’ve all been there for each other in ways I’ll never be able to truly appreciate.

We’re tight, and I know a big part of that is thanks to the way we were raised and the fact we’re from a great small town, where everyone butts their nose right into your business and doesn’t even apologize for it.

Sure, it can be annoying at times, but I’d rather live here than some big city any day of the week.

I watch Charli line up her break. “You’re not going to do it like that, are you?” Quinn teases.

My sister doesn’t even glance up as she replies, “Yep, sure am. Now, shut your piehole before one of these balls accidentally flies off the table and nails you in the giblets.”

I bark out a laugh, knowing it wouldn’t be an accident at all.

“Protect the McNuggets,” Camden hollers through his cackle.

Quinn doesn’t seem concerned, however. He just smiles at Charli and waits for her to shoot.

I watch them play, while catching up with Alex.

I’ve been working six days a week, so to finally be able to go out and unwind a little is much needed.

When you do road construction, summer and fall are your busiest times of the year, and this season is no different.

We’ve been paving two six-mile stretches of the interstate, all four lanes plus bridge and overpass work.

It’s a year-long job in total, and it should keep me busy until the snow flies later this year.

“How’s work?” he asks.

I take a swig of beer. “Busy.”

“I bet, but I drove through earlier this week, and when it’s all done, gonna be a damn nice road to travel.”

I nod. “It will. That overpass has needed a facelift for a long damn time.”

“No kidding,” he mutters. “Bet the overtime is nice.”

I don’t even reply, because he knows it is.

Anytime you get a chance to throw a little extra cash in the bank is a plus.

I don’t spend excessively, but I do enjoy riding four-wheelers with my family and friends.

We take a few trips to a couple of riding parks, usually on those long, holiday weekends.

Plus, I have a small boat I like to take to a local lake and fish.

Not overly expensive hobbies, but it all adds up.

“How’s work going for you?” I ask.

“It’s not bad. Definitely keeping busy as harvest approaches.

All the farmers are getting their shit in order, so I’ve been doing some machinery repairs,” he starts, jumping into a story about a local farmer who needed a pretty big weld on his corn head.

Alex is a welder, and a damn good one. He started off working for a local company and eventually branched out on his own.

He’s crazy-busy himself, working six or seven days a week.

I listen to his story, but my eyes are drawn to the entrance when the door opens.

A woman I know from town walks in, but the one who trails behind her has my complete attention.

She’s…stunning. Long dark hair I can practically feel slide between my fingers and an hourglass body made for my hands.

She’s wearing cutoff shorts, a navy-blue tank top, and tan sandals, and the best part is she doesn’t even look like she’s trying.

Half the women in here have their tits hanging out, and their clothes painted on, but this woman looks a touch classier, her beauty completely natural.

Then, she laughs, and my heart tries to pound right out of my chest. Even from across the room, I can hear the lightness of her giggle and see the beauty of her smile as she makes her way toward the bar with her friend.

As if she can feel my eyes on her, she slowly turns around and scans the room, and I’ll never forget the way my breath halts in my chest as our eyes connect.

Brown.

Dark eyes like rich chocolate.

Like a moth to a flame, I’m pulled toward her, almost hypnotically.

“Who’s that?”

I blink a few times, registering Alex’s question. Without looking away, I reply, “I don’t know.”

The beauty looks away first, her attention returning to her friend.

“That’s Allison Cartright, isn’t it?” he asks, referring to the woman I know. She was a few years younger than me in school, maybe the class behind Charli.

“Yeah.”

“Her friend is hot.”