Chapter 4
A few minutes before six, Seth climbed out of the passenger seat of Jamie Dalton’s truck.
Since the lot would be packed for Shane's fortieth birthday party, Jamie offered to drive him and two other coworkers.
The Wilsons pulled in beside them in their Grand Cherokee, and everyone piled out.
Together, they headed across the lot toward the entrance to Bar None.
The men wore their best jeans, boots, and button-down western shirts in various colors.
Most had their cowboy hats on. Paige, Arianna, and Ashley wore matching paisley sundresses, made specially for the occasion in Shane’s favorite color, blue, which looked adorable.
While Paige would readily admit she could barely sew a button, the family's housekeeper was also a talented seamstress.
Mya Santana, a single mother of two grown daughters, wanted something to do after becoming an empty-nester around the same time Paige’s husbands insisted she hire help when she was pregnant with Ashley.
The fifty-eight-year-old had worked for them ever since and occasionally gifted the girls with handmade clothes, many crafted from thrift store finds she transformed into something completely new.
She also sold her creations at local stores and events, and Ari loved having her own “fashion designer” in the house.
The single Triple-R ranch hands also paid Mya to mend their torn shirts and jeans to make them last longer.
She was the mother some of them never had—or wished they did—Seth included.
After her younger daughter got married, Mya accepted an offer to move into the “nanny’s quarters” in the ranch’s massive three-thousand-square-foot main house, where she had plenty of people to dote on.
Seth glanced around the lot and spotted several other vehicles he recognized.
A few spots over was Nicole and Hank Mathers’s Jeep Wagoneer.
They both worked at the Triple-R—Nicole in the business office and Hank out in the fields with the hands.
Their youngest of three, a girl named Joey, was Ari’s best friend.
Many of the remaining vehicles belonged to ranch hands, office staff, and people whom Shane, Tuck, and Paige called family and friends. Of course, the residents of Hazard Falls who disapproved of the Wilsons’ unconventional marriage weren’t there—but no one would miss them.
However, one vehicle stood out from the rest for Seth—a red Ford Ranger that’d seen better days.
What is Shylo doing here?
Reaching the door first, which had a “Closed for Private Party” sign, he held it open for everyone else to enter before following them inside.
The crowd gathered for Shane shouted a chorus of “Happy Birthday” to him, and he waved back.
The place was hopping already, and the Wilsons disappeared into the dining room.
Seth’s gaze darted around, but he didn’t spot Shylo. There were too many people, and at approximately five-foot-seven, she was shorter than most of the men there.
Making his way to the bar, he shook many hands and said hello to everyone. Lou, Dean, and Alyssa Nazarro were busy behind the bar, pouring drafts and wine and mixing drinks for the masses. Meanwhile, the barbacks restocked the ice and bottles of beer and replaced dirty glasses with clean ones.
The delicious aroma of the buffet foods Paige had ordered wafted in from the dining room, and Seth’s stomach growled. He was hungry, but if he didn’t get a beer first, it might be awhile before he got another chance.
Squeezing between two bodies, he held up a hand to flag one of the bartenders whenever he caught one’s attention.
After handing off a glass of wine to someone, Dean’s gaze landed on Seth, and he pointed at him. “Hey, what can I get you?”
“Coors. Thanks.”
Thirty seconds later, he had a cold bottle in his hand and tossed a tip on the bar.
After half an hour of chatting with a few groups of people and grabbing another beer, he moved into the dining room, glancing around for an empty seat since none were available in the bar.
The air vibrated with loud conversations and laughter, and a classic Alabama song on the jukebox was barely audible to him.
Six months ago, Lou’s heart broke when the old classic machine that played vinyl records had finally bitten the dust and was replaced by a digital one that listed thousands of more songs.
While it no longer worked, she left the original in the same spot for nostalgia's sake and hung the new, far smaller one on the wall beside it.
Bar None was always busy on weekend nights, but the Thursday night party rivaled even those crowds.
The few times he’d been in the place with that many people, probably close to the maximum legal occupancy, were on St. Patrick’s Day and during the town’s three-day Rodeo Bonanza, which was about a month and a half away.
But Lou was smart and business-savvy. Three years earlier, she started putting up tents out in the back lot with picnic tables and small bars for those special events, so she didn’t have to turn away paying customers.
She also found a company to supply several porta-potties, so there wouldn’t be lines out the door for the restrooms.
“Seth!”
He turned in the direction he heard his name being called.
Nicole sat at a round table for six people with her husband, the Obermans, and Lane Myers.
She waved him over and pointed to an empty seat between Hank and Lane.
Grateful, he hurried over before someone else grabbed it, greeting everyone as he sat down. “Thanks. The place is packed.”
“Probably has more to do with the three-hour open bar than the birthday boy,” Lane joked.
“Don’t let Paige hear you say that.” He turned to Nicole and Hank. “Kid-free tonight?”
“Sort of,” she replied. “Joey is at a table on the other side of the room with Ari and a few friends. Cody and Kyle stayed home with Hank’s dad. They wanted to order pizza and watch the Royals/Yankees’ game tonight with Grandpa.”
Her husband nodded. “Yeah, they’re at the age that parties like this are boring, unless a bunch of their friends are there.
” A grin spread across his face. “You know, it’s funny.
They loved hanging out here when they were little.
But when they turned twelve, it suddenly became lame.
Then when they reach eighteen, they’ll be dying to be twenty-one so they can legally come in here to drink.
Sucks for them that Lou and the other bartenders know them by sight, so they can’t try to use fake IDs. ”
Shaking his head, Lane chuckled. “Yeah, I remember right before high school graduation, me, Austin Brubaker, and Roy Fredricks tried that one night when Lou’s dad wasn’t working.
I don’t even remember who the bartender was, but they cut up our fake IDs right in front of us and told us to scram.
Those damn things were fifty bucks each, but at least they didn’t call the cops or our folks. Saved us from that humiliation.”
Hank gave Al Oberman the stink-eye but grinned.
“Yeah, I wasn’t so lucky with Al. He told my dad that I tried to get beer at the Stop & Go, and I lost the keys to the old man’s truck for two months.
Didn’t have my own yet, so Nicole had to drive us around in her mom’s freakin’ minivan—now, that’s humiliating when you’re eighteen. ”
Al laughed. “You boys thought we had no clue how old you were. It’s a small town—we know everyone. And I wasn’t the one who told your dad—I only confirmed it when he asked. I’m not a snitch, but I ain’t gonna lie for you either. Pastor Harrington was the one who sold you out, son.”
Nicole smacked her husband’s arm. “I told you back then that I didn’t think Al ratted on you.”
Hank’s eyes widened as he gaped at the older man. “Are you serious? Ugh. I should’ve known.” He hung his head. “Well, then, Al, I apologize for stealing Arnie.”
A long pause preceded Al roaring with laughter. “That was you? I wondered who the hell took him!”
“Who’s Arnie?” Seth asked, glancing back and forth between the two men. He was almost a decade younger than Hank and Shane and hadn’t grown up in Hazard.
“My taxidermied armadillo! My dang uncle left him to me in his will—why, I’ll never know. I kept Arnie on a shelf behind the counter in the hardware store. Marla hated him, so I thought she threw him out one day.”
“I told you I didn’t,” his wife scolded.
“Yup, I took him.” Hank took a sip of his beer, then chuckled. “If you still want him back, though, he’s in my garage.”
Marla smacked the table. “Ohhh no! Over my dead body! You can keep him! I don’t want that stuffed armored-tank pig anywhere near the stores or my house.”
Her adamant and threatening protest set everyone off into fits of hysterics, to the point Marla and Nicole wiped tears from their eyes while Al, Lane, and Seth held their stomachs and tried to catch their breath.
The raucous laughter became contagious because some people at the tables surrounding them joined in without even knowing what was so funny.
It took a good two or three minutes before they all got themselves under control again.
Seth noticed a couple walk by with plates loaded with yummy-looking food. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten yet, and he stood. “I’m going to get on the chow line.”
Lane got to his feet. “Me too.”
“Marla and Al, go with them. We’ll save everyone’s seats and then get our food when you come back,” Nicole told them.
Seth and Lane got behind the Obermans at the back of the line for the buffet, which was moving slowly but steadily. When he reached the first table, Seth picked up a plate and a knife and fork wrapped in a cloth napkin, then grabbed a piece of cornbread.
Standing behind the first few chafing dishes filled with an assortment of entrees, Giselle Baker smiled at him. The dark-skinned woman was a few years older than Seth and married to Miranda, a pediatric nurse at the hospital in Wexler. “Hi, Seth. What can I get you?”
“Hey, Giselle. Let me have the brisket, a pork chop, and a thigh of the fried chicken, please.”
“You got it.”
After she plated his food, he moved further down the line to where one of the male servers stood behind a row of side dishes.
Seth requested the mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and corn, leaving no room on his plate for anything else.
All he needed to round off the meal was a bowl of Bar None’s amazing chili.
It wasn’t a party without the local favorite, which was Lou’s great-grandfather’s secret recipe passed down through the generations.
When the Obermans received their bowls of chili and moved out of the way, he stepped down to a huge, steaming vat, inhaling deeply and savoring the aroma. But then he froze when he saw who was behind it, wearing a red Bar None polo shirt. “Shylo? What are you doing here?”