5. Dolly
5
DOLLY
“So, Dolly, I was thinking…now that you’re single…”
I look up from the plate of snacks I’m arranging, not quite sure that I heard Ben, the college-aged kid who works part time at Pour Decisions on weekends and school breaks, correctly. For a number of reasons. Not the least of which being that I’m pretty sure I’m mathematically old enough to be his mother.
“I’m not single.”
I turn back to the snacks, admiring just how cute the little teddy bear graham cracker wrapped in puff pastry to look like he’s taking a nap—complete with mini chocolate square pillow—turned out. They took some finesse to make sure that teddy didn’t shift while baking, but overall I’m thrilled. A perfect addition to my repertoire for events.
They were also a very welcome distraction from everyone who continued to try and sneak a peek at me all week. I’m starting to think I should have grabbed Hux and taken him with me on that all-inclusive luxury vacation.
“I mean, technically you are,” Ben says, sidling up to me and giving me a look that I think is supposed to be suave. Is that what works on college girls these days? “You didn’t get married.”
Thank you for reminding me, Ben…
“No, I didn’t. However, that doesn’t equate to being single.”
“Sure it does.”
He gives me a grin, paired with a wink, leaving no room for interpretation on what message he’s trying to get across. Deep down maybe I should be flattered—or something—and on another night maybe I would be. Or at least ready to flirt with him a little before letting him down gently and laughing it off with the girls. But tonight is not that night.
“You know, Ben, I’ve never worked in a bar, but I do own a restaurant, and they are very similar in that there are always dishes to be done. So, maybe you should go check on that?”
Taking the rejection in stride, Ben shrugs it off, walking backward in the direction of the storeroom.
“Just know that I’m here for you, should you need to get anything out of your system.”
He clicks his tongue, in time with shooting off his finger guns, leaving me completely dumbfounded.
I might be weirdly horny post breakup, but I’m not that horny…
“Hey.”
A strong arm wraps around me, forearm laid against my clavicle as a soft kiss is pressed into the crown of my head. I jump, heart racing from being caught off guard, but Hux holds me steady, his warmth surrounding me.
“Oh, these look good.” He reaches around me with his free arm, grabbing a napping teddy and popping it in his mouth.
“Hey! Those are for the guests!”
The din of conversation picks up as I scold him, a large group of fishermen in their tackle gear making their way into the warehouse-like space that has been converted into a taproom. They’ll be the first of many, since last I heard there were almost one hundred teams signed up for tomorrow’s tournament.
“I’m a guest,” Hux defends.
He’s not, and he knows it. Between his younger brother being the one organizing the tournament, his older brother’s bar hosting the party, and his family’s company being the largest sponsor, Hux is anything but a guest. Nice try though.
I roll my eyes, pulling away from him so that he can see my reaction, putting the finishing touches on the table.
“Wanna tell me what’s the matter?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
That’s a lie. There’s a lot the matter. Like the entirety of the last two weeks. And the fact that I was just kinda sorta propositioned by a tadpole. But we’re not going into that here. Especially since that tadpole might not live to become a full grown frog if Hux finds out what he did.
“That’s a lie.”
I pause, crossing my arms, defiance rising in me. “Is it?”
Reaching out, Hux uncrosses my arms, taking my hand and squeezing it. His beautiful hazel eyes grab mine and hold them for a second, silently searching the way only he can.
“First town event since?—”
“I’ve been back at Dolly’s for two weeks, thank you. I am no longer a special attraction.”
That is also a lie. This town is dying to know what really went down. But I am Fort Knox. Me and my humiliation.
“I know, it’s just?—”
“Hux!”
Milo’s voice carries across the room so loudly, for a moment I think he must have used a megaphone. We both turn, eyes landing on Milo and his business partner, Brandt, standing in the doorway that leads to the backroom, right next to a beer-soaked Ben.
Uh-oh…
“Need your help, please!” Milo calls.
“On my way!”
He runs off, leaving me standing here, giggling to myself, ready to make up any kind of story about what happened. The truth is probably a lot less entertaining than the three stooges-like antics running through my brain, but that doesn’t stop me.
Ten minutes later, I wander over to the bar and climb onto one of the stools, thankful to be off my feet. Ache flows through my legs, suddenly making me wish I was at home so I could run a hot bath.
“Whatcha drinking tonight?” Brenna Rawlins asks.
“Is it too ironic if I say Sob Story?” I joke. At least I hope it comes out joke-y.
“Pretty sure that’s why the guys created it.”
As little sister to Brandt, and now girlfriend to Milo, if anyone would know, it would be Brenna. Every Southern Brothers beer has a story, whether on purpose on not. Party Mode and Sob Story, both ales, were named because one was happier and a little more upbeat, while the other more mellow. Silver Lining Sour was the result of an experiment gone wrong and the fact that it was drinkable at all was a silver lining. Their most recent, Blue Jeans in Low Beams, is a little bit of a mystery, but easily my favorite of the bunch.
I crinkle my nose, shaking my head. “Let’s go Blue Jeans. That’s really my favorite.”
“Mine too,” Brenna replies, giving me a wild and knowing smile.
Well then…maybe that name is less of a mystery than I thought…
“Dolly!” The shrill, saccharine voice of our high school math teacher makes Brenna and me freeze, my drink halfway across the rough-cut bar.
“Mrs. Chamberlain,” I greet, forcing myself to remember my manners. If I’m rude to one of the town busybodies, especially the one who is Aunt Hattie’s coconspirator, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“It’s so good to see you reintegrate.”
Pardon me?!
I reach for my beer, needing it more than ever. Taking a long sip, I let the light, sweet flavor burst on my tastebuds and savor it for as long as I can. At least until Mrs. Chamberlain continues, mistaking my silence for an invitation to offer more commentary.
“I am proud of you, you know.”
“Thanks?”
“I mean it, Dolly. After all, being a spinster isn’t what it used to be.”
Errrr…what?!
I damn near spit out my beer, eyes going wide as I focus on Brenna cleaning a glass. Her expression matches mine, although she’s hiding it a little better since she can at least pretend to be distracted by doing the dishes. I cannot.
“I’m thirty-five, Mrs. Chamberlain. I’m not a spinster.”
“Oh, I’m not saying you are. You’re plenty young.There’s still plenty of time. Girls in your generation are getting married older and older these days.”
I simply nod, not having anything to say in response. Because how does one reply to that? You’re not a spinster, but damn close…
Brenna looks up from the glass she’s cleaning, biting down on her lip, not even bothering to hide that she’s horrified this conversation is unfolding before her. Mrs. Chamberlain doesn’t seem fazed though.
“I mean, the whole advanced maternal age thing is not near as much a concern. Science has done wonders with that. Women are having babies well into their forties now.”
Right…
If I wasn’t feeling shitty before, I am now. Mrs. Chamberlain is not doing a whole lot to make me feel any better about my life. Then again, I’m not entirely sure that’s her goal anyway.
“Oh, look, Tina Snider just walked in. She was having lunch with AnnaGrace Davis today. I should see how that went.”
She’s gone as quickly as she appeared, leaving me in a wake of backhanded compliments and judgment. My head is spinning, my feet hurt, and I want nothing more than to curl up in my own bed and forget that this is my life.
That me and my advanced maternal age are that much closer to spinsterhood.
“I’d offer you another beer, but I’m not sure that’s strong enough,” Brenna comments, her face still scrunched in horror.
Throwing back the last of the Blue Jeans I had, I shake my head. “Not even close.”
“Let me go get something from Brandt’s personal stash.”
“Don’t bother,” I tell her, pushing off the stool.
As good as I know whatever flavor moonshine is currently being stashed out back would be, that’s not going to do the trick either. Nope, what I need is to get out of here. I need to be alone.
“If Hux asks, I went home.”
Brenna nods, taking my glass, before turning to a group of people at the far end of the bar. The noise level kicks up a notch as I weave my way through the crowd, heading toward the door, fueling my desire to leave. I thought that facing the town at Reel Madness wouldn’t be too much trouble after slowly easing back into things via work. Guess I was wrong.
Meaning tomorrow is going to be a long day.