Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
I roll my eyes and take my seat on a stool at the far end of the bar where no one else is sitting, and Clay doesn’t waste any time trotting over to me.
I swear, he is such a pain in the ass sometimes.
“Well, howdy there, good buddy. What brings you in this time? Get in another shootout with some out-of-towner and spend the day in holding?”
“Give me a glass of bourbon, Clay,” I reply rather than dignifying his stupid shit.
“Wowee, okay, then. Not in the mood for teasing, I see.”
I breathe deeply, and he stands there, waiting.
“Clay. Bourbon, please. Then I’ll consider talking.”
Finally motivated, he obliges, setting a glass in front of me and filling it nearly to the brim with ice and amber liquid. I take one sip, and then another, and that gives me a reason to blame the burn in my throat on something other than Norah Ellis.
Clay is uncharacteristically quiet as I indulge some more, and for some reason, the new strategy proves effective. I start to talk.
“Breezy’s been on my ass about finding an assistant again. Says the bills are piling up, and I need to start selling shit so I can keep Summer at home and give her the care she needs.”
Clay nods just once.
“So I put that old ad up at Earl’s again, and someone actually found the damn thing and came to paint the barn yesterday. Summer and I took a ride down there to see it, and for once, someone actually did something worthwhile.”
“Great.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “Except the someone is Norah fucking Ellis.”
“And?”
“And? We’ve had a lot of shit between us in the short time she’s been here, Clay, and not one piece of it is good. You think it’s a good idea I hire her, make her a permanent fixture in my life? In Summer’s?” I shake my head. It’s the worst fucking idea I’ve ever heard, especially because there was something good—something explosive—in that stupid-as-shit kiss I have no intention of sharing with Clay if the town hasn’t been yapping about it already.
He considers me for long moments that cross into minutes, and I consider nothing but my glass—the condensation that was quick to form on the outside and the taste of the liquor inside.
Visuals of that stupid barn wall and the way Summer’s face lit up when she first saw it dance inside my head. She begged me to keep it forever, and I felt like my heart was cracked in two because of what it symbolized for me.
There’s nothing I want more than to give her everything she wants, and there’s nothing I want less than to feel like I have to because time is running out.
Truth is, some days, I can barely breathe.
“You’re afraid Summer is going to like her, aren’t you?” Clay finally asks, cutting me so deep it bleeds.
I roll my eyes before admitting, “Are you kidding? All that fanciness? She’ll fall in love.”
“Maybe…I don’t know, Ben,” Clay says as softly and as gently as he can in a loud bar. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing, you know? Maybe a little Norah Ellis in your lives is exactly what you need.”
My stomach burns, and my throat feels like it’s closing in on itself.
Maybe a little Norah Ellis in your lives is exactly what you need.
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Tuesday, August 17th
Norah
Another week of working at CAFFEINE and messing up everything I touch. Another week of depending on Josie for simple necessities and a place to stay. Another week of feeling like I’m in limbo, waiting for the world to crash down around me.
And one full week of waiting to hear about the interview with nothing to show for it—and unfortunately, I really got my hopes up.
Agitation stirs inside me as Josie cleans the used grinds out of the espresso machine—that she finally got working again—and makes two customers’ drinks all at once.
The whole scene makes the writing on the wall more obvious—I’m useless here. And that stark reality only makes me think more about the one and only interview I attempted. Sure, it was entirely strange, and I didn’t actually talk to anyone, but painting that wall made me feel more like myself than I have in, well, forever.
Decorum tells me I should let it go. Try something else. Interview to shear sheep for Tad or settle for bagging groceries at Earl’s. But I’ve spent my whole life being the perfect little girl who does what other people expect of her, and now, every burning sensation in my body is rebelling against being that girl.
I watch Josie juggle two more orders and decide I can’t watch anymore. I can’t sit by and let life happen to me. It’s time I make life happen for me.
Screw this. I’m getting that job.
On a huff, I shove away from the counter, unwrap the tie on my green apron, and slam it down on the counter. The aggressive display causes several customers to look in my direction, all pairs of eyes wide and confused. And I’m not surprised that my unhinged, unexplained outburst has Josie scowling toward me.