Page 33 of The Love Wager

“Come on, city girl. Let’s go get the bonbonnieres, if only so I can finally figure out what the hell they are.”

“You’re in for a surprise.”

Worry crosses his eyes, and I don’t blame him. If I didn’t know what they were, I’d be concerned Taylor was sending us off to grab something crazy.

In the end, Brooks carries the boxes, filled with the small wedding favors for the table settings, back to the truck. He tucks them into the bed, tying them down for safe delivery.

“Really?” he throws my way when we slide back onto the bench seat. “You couldn’t have just told me we were picking up treat boxes?”

“What would have been the fun in that?” I laugh.

We fill the ride back to Abaline with amusing and lively chatter, washing away the heaviness from before. It’s easy and comfortable with Brooks in our little space, but I’m terrified as he stops in front of Taylor’s family estate.

I can see it. Why she chose him for me, and it’s going to make leaving at the end of this week a disaster.

TWELVE

Brooks

Walking into the bar after a day of wedding activities feels strange. It’s like I’m walking in here for the first time, even though Dad’s owned this place our entire lives.

Nick spies me from behind the bar and tips his head, reading my face as he tosses me a questioning look.

I shake my head and walk toward Travis, who’s wandering up with his clipboard. Liquor delivery came today, so he’ll have papers for me to review if anything is missing.

“Was it all there?” I ask him.

His sigh tells me all I need to know. “No. The stubbies were missing.”

“Again?” I sign off on the paper, and he takes back the clipboard.

“Yeah. Might be time to find a new distributor.” He shrugs, making off for the office to put away the paperwork.

Nick hasn’t stopped eyeing me, but I’m still reeling a bit from the raw conversation with Indie. I’ve never talked to anyone so openly about Caroline.

It felt… good, actually.

There’s a tiny voice in my head telling me I’m getting a little too cozy with the girl who’s leaving in five days, but I also ignore it.

I slap Butch on the shoulder as I halt next to him. He’s in the seat at the end of the bar for once, instead of his regular spot, where he usually posts up further down.

“Hey, old man. What are you doing down here?”

He looks a bit put off by my question like he’s hesitant to answer.

“Oh, now you have to tell me.” I laugh.

“Oh, go on, Butch.” Nick walks up with a shit-eating grin, drying his hands on a rag.

“No. You’ve given me enough shit for the night. I’m done talking about it.” Butch takes long pulls from his beer.

“Butch here thinks if he sits in that specific spot, he might catch the next woman who dances on the bar and then falls off,” Nick says for Butch, and I burst out laughing.

“See! You two are assholes! It was a solid idea, and I’m not getting any younger, dammit!” Butch slams his fist on the bar, startling poor Tony three seats down, who was asleep, face down on the bar.

Butch gets up and snags up his beer, storming off to a booth and pushing in.

“Don’t be like that! Come back. We were just kidding!” Nick shouts over the jukebox.

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