Page 99 of Tight Spot

I adored my friends. Loved them dearly.

Occasionally, I wanted to punch them in the throat.

“Please?” she begged, and I pulled my phone away to check the caller really was Meredith. She never begged.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

She said it quickly. Too quickly.

“Just come. As soon as you can close down. Thirty minutes, one drink, max. I promise. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

I chuckled and stopped my mid eye roll. Crazy how well she knew me. I finally sighed into the phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, but don’t expect much.”

“Great. See you soon, chickadee!”

I frowned at my phone’s screen, the timer flashing as the call ended. “Chickadee?”

She’d never used a nickname on me. Something was definitely going on, and I wasn’t showing up looking like a deformed rat who’d been put through a blender so after I flipped the sign on my door to Closed, locked it, and shut off the main lights, I headed to the bathroom.

In the locked cabinet where I kept cleaning supplies, I also kept an emergency stash of makeup and hair products. This wasn’t the first time I’d been yanked out for a night on the town and after the first, I refused to find myself unprepared again.

I couldn’t do anything about my current outfit, but I scrubbed paint splotches off my cheekbones, washed my makeup-free face, and applied a bit of concealer, blush, and mascara. I tore my hair out of the braided bun I’d put it in that morning, sprayed on some dry shampoo, and scrubbed the worst of the oily mess out of it. With a few quick flips of my hair, it was styled back in a clip, still messy but not embarrassingly so and after a spritz of fresh perfume, a couple swipes of deodorant, I was as good as I was going to get without a complete overhaul.

It took only a few more minutes to finish closing down, grab my purse from the back room where I applied a fresh coat of lip gloss, and then lock the back door to the alley.

Almost fifteen minutes later, I was walking toward Margo’s, getting closer and growing nervous at the size of the crowd standing outside. The street was a narrow two-lane road with minimal street parking, but the entire street was packed with people. Some had their hands cupped around the sides of their faces, peering into her restaurant.

It was Saturday, and yeah, the shops and town had been busy, and Margo’s generally had a small wait on weekend nights, but to this extent?

I’d never seen anything like this.

I headed into the fray, slipping through gaps in the crowd and as I approached the front door, Bill, Margo’s husband, opened the door.

“Get in here and quick before they follow.”

“What is going on?” I asked, laughing up at him.

He nodded his head toward the back of the restaurant. “That.”

“What—”

Oh my god. Blood rushed from my face, my fingers grew cold, and my feet were firmly glued to her restaurant’s floor.

Everyone I knew stood in a semi-circle, completely blocking the bar from me. Front and center in front of my mom, dad, Charlie, and Meredith and Tuevo, and Sloane and Misty and even my coworker Gabby was the most surprising guest of all.

Dawson.

My knees wobbled, and I reached out and grabbed hold of Bill to steady myself.

“What is this?” I asked him quietly. His hand settled on my lower back and gently pushed me forward.

“Hear him out. He’s stood tall in front of everyone who loves you and planned this whole night.”

This explained the crowd. Especially if word had gotten out Dawson Butler was there. Tuevo too.

I shook my head and forced my feet to move as Bill kept pushing until I was in front of Dawson, far enough away I couldn’t touch him, close enough I took in the darkness rimming his lower eyes and the small twitch in his cheek.

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