Page 1 of Betting on Lizzie

CHAPTER ONE

This was not Lizzie Parker’s first break up. In fact, it was the second this week.

She stared at Andy, the handsome yet overly gung-ho man across from her. He’d stopped by The Drop to ask if she wanted to meet his parents—hard pass.

“We’ve only been on two dates,” Lizzie said. “What’s the hurry?”

“Well, I mean, you did just turn thirty…”

Oh, no, he did not. An eyebrow shot up. “And?”

Reading the room correctly, he shut up and shrugged. Unfortunately for him, the comment sealed his fate. Lizzie was glad they were at her bar instead of her home. This pill went down smoother with a crowd.

“I’m sorry, Andy. I’m just not girlfriend material,” she said. “You deserve someone better than me.”

Andy nodded silently, and she smiled. This was her forte. Dating, she was only so-so at, but breaking up? Her time to shine.

“Well, I’ve got to get Charlie home for dinner,” she said, standing. “Keep in touch, okay?”

Hearing his name, her seven-year-old Great Dane ambled over and nudged her thigh with his ginormous nose. She scratched his head and watched Andy walk out.

“Whew,” she said to the dog. “That one was a little awkward. Anyhoo, you ready to go?”

Charlie’s sweet eyes met hers, and just like the first moment she saw him, her insides melted. After Lucy, her twin sister and next-door neighbor, got married, Lizzie found she had a lot more time on her hands. At the suggestion of Emma, another sister, she’d gone to the shelter looking for a friend. It had been exactly a month ago that Lizzie fell in love with Charlie. The only male to ever capture her heart so completely. Now, he was her constant shadow.

“Later, guys,” Lizzie said to her employees, picking up the box of wine she’d packed. “Call if you need anything.”

Charlie jumped into the back of her Jeep, and Lizzie buckled him into his doggie seatbelt. “You’re such a good boy,” she cooed. She placed the wine on the backseat floorboard and got into the driver’s seat. “Maybe Kate and Adam will bring Duke and Luna to dinner. Would you like that?”

Kate was another sister who’d married recently. Although, there was no longer any point in differentiating sisters by whether they were married. As of last month, all four had tied the knot. Lizzie remained the lone single Parker sister—the last woman standing. Her mother didn’t pressure her overtly, but Lizzie knew she worried. Her being thirty and all.

Thankfully, her siblings had gotten straight down to business producing grandkids—three in the past six months—which took some heat off Lizzie’s singleness.

She pulled up to her parents’ mini-mansion. Judging by the cars in the driveway, she was the last to arrive. Damn it. That meant all the good hors d’oeuvres were gone. She grabbed the wine and encouraged Charlie to pee in the front grass before heading inside.

Every Sunday was the same. Lizzie’s sisters, their husbands and babies, her nana, and now her cousin Bella, gathered ’round a burgeoning table and stuffed their faces with whatever deliciousness her mother made. With the exponential growth of the family, and to take some of the burden off their mom, they’d converted to a semi-potluck-style dinner.

“I’m here,” Lizzie called out, hoisting a box of wine bottles. “Party can start now.” As a bar owner, her standing potluck contribution was the booze.

Nana, wearing a T-shirt that read, “I want the job where I push scared skydivers out of the plane,” appeared from nowhere, holding a wine glass. “Finally,” she said. “Whatcha got?”

“Two reds, two whites, and a rosé,” Lizzie said. “Pick your poison.”

“Five bottles? You do realize three of us are nursing, right?” Kate said, hoisting a pink bundle to her shoulder.

“Hard not to notice,” Lizzie said. “It’s like a Hooters in here. That’s why I didn’t bring a twelve count.”

Kate thought for a second. “Touché,” she said before gliding away in three-inch heels. Not even a five-month-old baby and a casual family dinner, could push that woman into a pair of flats.

Ever the hostess, Lizzie’s mom had set up two playpens in the living room to house the little ones. Most of the time, it was unnecessary. Too many arms waited, ready and willing, to be filled with a soft, sweet-smelling slice of heaven. Lizzie’s two nieces and one nephew—all under six months old—were passed around like footballs on Super Bowl Sunday. The actual meal was the rare occasion they were banned to playpen jail. Eating was serious business for the Parkers and required both hands free.

Once everyone had their food and drink, they settled in at the table, and the battle was on. Lizzie’s father called it conversation combat—everyone talking at once, over, under, and around each other. If you had something important to say, you had to come armed for a fight.

“Lizzie,” her mother said. “You bringing anyone to Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Oh,” Lizzie said. “Probably not. Andy had to be let go this afternoon, so my slate’s clean.”

“Let go…” Emma chuckled.

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