Page 79 of Bad Luck Club

To hear Lee express the same sentiment, or similar enough, had felt like a stab to her heart. It had been painful enough that she’d forgotten, for a moment, that Lee had only just started down the road of being a new man, and that for years his mentor and companion had taught him to strangle his emotions.

Lee wanted to change, she knew that with all her heart. But change took time.

So she’d been prepared to forgive him.

And then he’d walked away from her.

He didn’t want her.

No, that wasn’t true—she saw the way he looked at her, like she was the last slice of cake on the stand. It wasn’t a lack of wanting. She’d implied the other day that they were both messes, and he’d finally realized it was true…just when she’d stopped seeing it as an impediment.

“Blue.” Augusta’s voice made her whip her head around. “Tell me the truth…”

For a moment, she thought Augusta was going to say something about Lee. Had she seen them kiss? To her surprise, the thought didn’t scare her. She wanted them to know what was in her heart. Was it foolish for radical honesty to only exist between a sponsor and sponsee? Wasn’t the ultimate goal for them all to be honest with one another?

“…Harry’s been blocking me on social media, hasn’t he?”

Harry released a long-suffering sigh. “For the last time, Augusta, I’m not on social media. No twittering, f-booking, or instagramming for me.”

“Tweeting, I believe they call it,” Dee corrected.

“Exactly my point.”

“Yeah, Augusta, don’t you remember the whole rant he went on a few weeks ago about how social media is the ‘scourge of humanity,’” Nicole said with a snort, making air quotes.

“He’s right,” Cal scoffed. “When people aren’t being ugly to each other, they’re posting puff pieces about dating and wild theories about…well, everything. It’s toxic.” He glanced at Harry. “If he ever did join, he’d fall down a wormhole, and we’d never see him again.”

Harry shot a glance at Augusta, emboldened by the high-gravity beer in front of him. Or maybe this was part of the “new Harry” he’d said he was embracing after his breakup. “And I’d have to be friends with Augusta. Admit it, you’d swamp me with spam on purpose. Or one of those chain letter wine clubs that lead to one person getting twenty bottles and everyone else getting none. And you’ll be the twenty-bottle person, of course.”

“Shut it, Harry.” She looked like she would have thumped him if they weren’t on opposite ends of the table.

They moved on to talking about the next meeting, which they’d decided would be a luau—the sponsors could choose any challenge they liked, as long as it was “festive,” whatever that meant. Their discussion shouldn’t have made Blue’s mind turn to Lee, but it did. She found herself thinking of the photograph Adalia had posted on the Buchanan Brewery Facebook page of the two of them bent over her folder. He’d been looking at her with so much warmth in his eyes. He hadn’t looked lost in that picture—he’d looked like he was exactly where he needed to be.

She glanced up and found Bear staring at her. He nodded once, like he knew what she was thinking. Like he really did approve. Overwhelmed by it all, she muttered, “Excuse me,” and went to the bar to get more water. And also so she could message her sister.

So. I definitely DO like Lee. I kissed him, Hattie, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this kind of connection to anyone.

Before she could reach the next part of the message—the but—Dottie came around to serve her.

Since stopping by the event space, Dottie had acquired a crystal necklace heavy enough it should have dragged her neck down. But it didn’t, and somehow she looked more luminous for it. Her earrings were crystal cuffs made to look like they’d grown on her ears.

It struck her that Dottie was “abnormal,” yet Lee was patient with her. He respected her, even if he didn’t put it in those terms.

Without saying anything, Dottie poured her a beer and slid it across the bar.

“But I don’t…”

“Yes, my dear,” Dottie said with a smile, “you don’t like beer. Addy told me that Home Sweet Home is the only one you can tolerate. But this isn’t just any beer. This is one of my Beau’s old brews. We haven’t carried it for years, but River’s bringing it back for spring.”

Because it was Dottie, she lifted it to her lips and took a sip…and found it delicious. It had hints of strawberry and rhubarb, almost like the first pie she remembered making with her mother—at three in the morning because her mom had been manic.

Her eyes popping wide, she blurted out, “How did you know?”

“Sometimes we think we know what we like, and it turns out it’s something else altogether.”

She forced a smile. “You’re not talking about beer, are you? It might not matter what I want, Dottie. He’s made it pretty clear that I’m not what he wants.”

“No, dear,” Dottie said, holding the crystals of her necklace as if she were absorbing energy from them, “I was talking about Lee.”

---