The Kiss Lottery

Chapter 8 Everly

Chapter 8

Everly

A couple of days later, the lunch rush at Hank’s is in full swing, and I’m up to my elbows in orders. Earlier this morning, I wrapped up an interview with Hank about the diner, and now I’m playing server because, naturally, two of his regulars didn’t show up for the lunch crowd. Typical small-town chaos.

As I whisk around the room, taking orders and delivering today’s special—heart-shaped meatloaf and mashed potatoes—I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. My hair is up in a high ponytail, a few strands escaping to frame my face. My eyes have shadows under them from lack of sleep. For some reason, I can’t seem to rest well in Rose. Too many unresolved issues.

I glance out the front window and see Beckett on the sidewalk in jeans and a black coat. Sunglasses shield his eyes.

He’s not alone. Beside him is Abigail, dressed to kill in another tight number and high heels. Tabby mentioned she works at one of the banks in town as a manager.

I ease closer to the window, making sure I stay hidden behind a giant potted plant near the door. Using my foot, I push the door open just a hair, my eyes narrowing as I watch them. Abigail seems to be crying, her lips pushing into a pout. It looks fake to me.

“Beckett,” she coos, her voice carrying enough for me to hear. “You can’t keep ignoring me. We’re both supposed to work on the kissing booth today.”

He shakes his head. “You signed me up to work with you. Look, I’m not interested. I’ve told you, multiple times.”

She steps closer, trying to touch his arm again. “We could be good together. We always had a connection in school, didn’t we?”

He steps back. “Um, no. I’m sorry about your divorce, truly, but I can’t help you. We’ve never been a thing, and we won’t be.”

“But—”

“No.” His voice is sharper now, cutting her off. “Let it go and leave Everly alone too. Be nice. Stop being rude to her. She’s part of this town, and she’s part of my family.”

I start at the mention of my name and— family ?

Abigail stiffens. “Oh, it’s her, isn’t it? Ha. Always her. You think she’ll forgive you after you chose Carson? Everyone knows you never even spoke to her again after the basketball incident.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s none of your business.”

Her voice is cold. “I’m better than her. Always have been.” She turns to flounce away, but Beckett’s voice stops her.

“Give back the diary, Abigail. It doesn’t belong to you.”

She flips around. “Really? I have no clue what you mean.”

He crosses his arms and nods. “I saw you take it. Return it if you haven’t tossed it.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it belongs to her,” he growls. “Because she wrote it.”

She does a hair toss. “Wow, you’re really protective of her. Too bad. I bet she hates you.” Then she laughs and turns to sashay away.

He watches her, his body tense.

I duck back behind the plant, my heart racing.

Whoa.

What just happened?

I try to process it all.

Beckett is in my corner; he called me his family.

He cares about me. Still.

Emotion claws at me, and tears want to prick my eyes, but I fight them down.

“What are you looking at so hard?” Hank asks as he approaches me, then follows my gaze out to the sidewalk. Beckett is still there with his hands tucked in his coat pockets. He seems deep in thought with his brow furrowed.

“Still got that crush?”

I put a smile on my face as I glance at him. “Nah.”

He chuckles. “I remember when you two were thick as thieves. You’d be working, and he’d come in and sit for hours reading his books. If he wasn’t reading, he was watching you work.”

I nibble on my bottom lip. Beckett often sat in a corner booth with a paperback in hand. I recall a birthday when I had to work a double shift and he showed up with a gift. He slid into his usual booth and waited until my break to give it to me.

Inside was an oval golden locket.

But soon after that, things changed between us. He started to avoid me.

Then Carson showered me with attention and asked me out, and I said yes. I needed a distraction from the confusing mess that was my relationship with Beckett.

“I thought you’d end up together,” Hank murmurs.

“A lot has happened since then,” I say.

He looks at me. “Maybe some things just get put on hold until the time is right.”

I shake my head, forcing a laugh. “We’ll see. Right now, I’m just here to help you out.” I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and rush back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later, I’m at Troy’s table, notepad in hand. He’s been here glued to his laptop. We’ve bonded over his constant requests for iced-tea refills.

The diner door opens, and Tabby bursts in. She locks eyes with me and rushes over. Today, she’s wearing a white corset dress that highlights her full bosom. Her skirt is a powder blue tulle, paired with white heels. She looks like a ballerina.

“You won’t believe what I just heard!” she exclaims.

Troy straightens in his chair, adjusting his tie. “Hello, gorgeous. How’s it going? Here for lunch? I was just about to order if you want to join us.”

She barely glances at him, her eyes fixed on me. “Hey, Troy. Everly, you have to hear this. I’ve got gossip.”

I hand Troy his menu. “Hold that thought until I get his order. Troy, what’s it going to be?”

He’s still checking out Tabby.

“Troy?” I murmur. “Your order?”

He blinks. “Um, what’s the special?”

Tabby huffs and points to the board on the wall. “It’s right there. Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You love it. You should order it.”

“How do you know I like meatloaf?” he asks.

She blows out a breath. “Because I walk by here every Tuesday and see you chowing down on it. You always get tea with extra lemons. After you eat, you go home to take a nap.”

“How—”

“Probably because you get sleepy after a big meal. Plus, your house is right behind the boutique. Your car’s there, and all the lights are off. I don’t even see your TV on.”

He grins. “Wow, you have great observational skills. Do you use binoculars to look into my windows?”

She tuts at him. “You wish.”

“The meatloaf then?” I ask, and he nods absently.

I write down his order, smiling as I walk away.

They’ve definitely hooked up, and while Tabby seems over it, Troy clearly isn’t.

When I return, Tabby looks like she’s about to pop.

“Okay, what’s going on?” I ask.

She leans in. “The Widow Moss came into my boutique today for a dress.”

“Okay,” I say.

Troy nods. “Is she the one who’s always convinced someone’s out to get all her money?”

Tabby shoots him a look as if he’s an idiot. “Yes, Troy, that Widow Moss. She’s the only one in town we call Widow. You’ve known her since you were a baby. In fact, your uncle on your dad’s side is married to her third cousin on her mother’s side.”

Troy pokes her. “You know a lot about me. Why is that?”

She waves at him. “I know everything. Now, be quiet and wait for your meatloaf. The women have to talk. Anyway, back to the boutique. As she was checking out—she bought a black chiffon number with pearls on it—she told me that Abigail had a huge argument right in front of the diner. Apparently, she heard your name, Everly.” She takes a deep breath. “Wow, glad I got all that out.”

Troy pats her arm. “Good job.”

She glances at me. “Did you see them while you were working?”

I shrug. I don’t feel like rehashing it with them, especially while I’m busy. Plus, I’m still mulling it all over.

The door to the diner swings open, and in waltzes Fritz. Today he’s dressed in a velvet blazer, a black shirt, and white pants. His hair is spiked to perfection.

“Honey, I’m home!” he calls out, waving at everyone. Some diners wave back, and he stops at various booths, chatting about the lottery, then heads over to us.

After I grab Troy’s food, Hank tells me the rush is over, so I sit down with them.

“What’s the latest drama, darlings?” Fritz asks us. “It must be something juicy because Tabby looks like she’s about to explode.”

Tabby nudges me. “Fritz left the boutique to our workers and has been at the library this morning to dig up info on Lily and Quincy, so he missed the Widow Moss.”

She leans in to recount the story to Fritz.

He pulls out his phone. “I’ll call Margo and find out what happened.”

I keep quiet, wondering if Margo knows anything.

The phone rings a couple of times before Margo’s voice comes through, muffled by the background noise. I hear a hammer and some laughter.

“She’s at the gazebo,” Tabby whispers to me. “Everyone is there to work on the kissing booth today.”

“Margo, darling!” Fritz says. “We heard there was a showdown with Beckett and Abigail. Full disclosure, I’ve got Troy, Tabby, and Everly with me. Apparently someone was gossiping about it in the boutique.”

“Okay, hang on, let me get somewhere quieter,” she replies, and I picture her in one of her flouncy dresses, sneaking off to a corner. “Well. She’s been after him for years, and he tends to just ignore it, but she always goes one step too far. Today he told her off, and she got mad. Really, that’s all I know.” Her voice lowers. “He told her to stop being so rude to Everly and then mentioned the diary.”

Wow, Margo’s got good intel. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one eavesdropping.

“Thanks, love. You’re my favorite committee girlie,” Fritz tells her and blows her a kiss through the phone.

“Remind everyone that tonight is the night! It’s the matching ceremony at the Blackbird Bar!” she tells Fritz.

Tabby turns to me with a sly smile. “You’re coming to the Blackbird, right?”

I nod as I groan inwardly, but there’s no getting out of it. I did sign up for the lottery after all.

A man walks into the diner, scanning the room until he calls out, “Special delivery for Everly Davis!”

We freeze, eyes wide as we turn toward him. He’s holding a giant cream-colored teddy bear that has to be at least five feet tall.

“Over here!” Fritz calls, pointing at me as the guy maneuvers the massive bear around the tables.

“Well, well, well, what did you do to get an early Valentine’s Day gift?” Tabby teases.

“I have no idea,” I mumble, standing up as the delivery guy approaches.

He drops the bear in front of our booth with a grunt, then confirms my identity. “There’s a note tied around its neck and this.” He reaches into a bag and pulls out a bottle of Patrón tequila.

“Wahoo!” Troy says. “Shots!”

I untie the note and unfold it, feeling the eyes of my friends on me. The writing is bold and familiar.

Roses are red, tequila is gold, being alone on Valentine’s Day is getting old. Here’s a bear to cuddle and a drink to share—whoever sent this, they really care.

It’s unsigned.

I glance down at the bear, then at the bottle of tequila.

“There’s a stupid smile on your face,” Tabby says, narrowing her eyes. “Come on, tell us. Who sent it?”

Fritz smirks. “Has to be Beckett.”

“Why’s that?” Troy asks, twisting the cap off the tequila.

I swat his hand. “Hey now, that’s mine.”

He sticks his tongue out at me, and I hug the bottle close to my chest. “If you don’t already know, Beckett and I have a history with tequila.”

“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Troy says, leaning in with a grin.

“I already know this story,” Tabby murmurs.

I nod. “We were fifteen at his cousin’s summer party by the lake. Someone brought tequila, and we thought we were cool sneaking off with the bottle. After a few shots, we were completely trashed. Beckett tried to stand up, tripped, and face-planted into the rocks. The bottle went into the water, and he ended up with a black eye from the fall. It was a disaster.”

Tabby raises an eyebrow. “So why are you laughing?”

Joy hits me. So much of it. “Because he sent this. He remembers.”

Is it dumb that a giant bear can make me feel like this? Maybe. But toss in the secret gift giver and my friends ...

“Does this mean he sent the cat too?” Tabby asks.

Yes, it has to be him.

I remind myself to check my CCTV cameras from the night the kitten showed up.

Troy leans back in the booth. “That’s a bold move right here in the diner. He must have known you were working here today.”

I run my fingers through the bear’s soft fur, then pull up a chair and plop him in it.

Fritz reaches over and shakes the bear’s paw. “Welcome to the cool kids’ table.”

I roll my eyes. “Ha-ha, funny, but for real, what am I supposed to do with this thing?”

Tabby smirks. “Make sweet love to it?”

“Gross,” I shoot back, elbowing her playfully.

“At least give him a kissy,” she coos, chanting “kissy, kissy” until I finally relent and plant a peck on the bear’s cheek.

We start giggling.

Then, Hank brings over fried chocolate pies, setting them down and telling us they are on the house.

As we eat, Tabby says, “This reminds me of those nights in high school when we’d get the munchies after a little wacky weed.”

“Speaking of which ...,” Troy says, reaching into his man bag. He pulls out a small tin and pops it open, revealing a neatly rolled joint. “I didn’t get to hang out with you guys much in school, but look what I found.”

“You carry that around with you?” I ask.

“Always prepared,” he replies.

Tabby pats his shoulder. “You’re a bad influence! I like it. But, uh, what’s the plan?”

“I say we meet up at Everly’s before the event, get a little high, then head to the Blackbird. It’ll make everything more fun,” he replies.

Fritz nods. “Good idea. I don’t smoke, so I’ll drive.”

“All right,” I say, a determined smile on my face. “Let’s do it. My place at seven?”

“Deal,” Troy says, tucking the tin back into his bag. “This matchmaking event is going to be epic.”