Page 30 of 40 and (So Over) Fixing It
The mention of food brought Thad’s attention around as well, so much so that he was practically bouncing in his seat. Both of their appetites had been healthy since they’d been spending so much time in the clean mountain air.
JD pulled the menu out of Carter’s hands. “Wings.”
“Wings!” Thad clapped.
“Wings, huh?” Carter gave his friend a wry smile. “Somehow I’ve never equated the words ‘Irish pub’ and ‘wings.’ Shepherd’s pie, maybe, but wings?”
The entire table erupted with loud groans and moans and ecstatic sighs, extolling the virtues of the wings available at the Drunken Otter.
JD grinned. “Trust me, dude, you want the wings.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay, wings it is.”
Turned out JD—and the rest of the crowd gathered around them—wasn’t wrong. The owner, Clayton, had apparently trained in Texas as well as Ireland, because his wings were out of this world. Before dinner was over, Thad and Carter both had a pile of bones in front of them that would rival the remains of the biggest carnivores to ever walk the Earth. Thad had added spicy fries to his meal (and Carter had insisted on a milk to wash down that spice). For Carter it was the local brew, which had just the right kick to it. The meal was filled out with conversation and laughter, that feeling of camaraderie that only comes with a group of like-minded, longtime friends.
When the food was decimated, Evan and Alana stood, preparing to take Thad back to the mansion. “I brought a game,” Alana admitted, her grin shy and the slightest bit crooked. “My niece and nephew really love it, and they stomp all over me every time we play. Have you ever heard of Exploding Kittens?”
“Has he ever heard of it?” Carter’s question was definitely rhetorical. “Not only has he heard of it, but he stomps on me regularly too.”
“Uh-oh!” Evan laughed. “I’m quaking in my boots now.”
Thad grinned up at him. “You should be!”
“Which cat is your favorite?” Alana asked.
“Hairy Potato Cat!” Thad cried.
“Mine’s Tacocat.”
Thad’s grin dimmed as he turned back to me. “I just remembered, I didn’t get enough chocolates for Evan and Alana.”
“That’s okay,” Claire said from across the table. “I added in a few of their favorites to go along with yours.”
“Awesome!”
Alana held out her hand. “Let’s go then.”
The hug Thad gave him before heading out the door made Carter’s heart feel like mush. He watched until the trio was well across the town square, Thad with one hand in Alana’s as they crossed the street, looking as if he was protecting her instead of the other way around. Only when they reached Evan’s car did Carter drain the last of the water that had accompanied his single beer and then turn to Erin. “Well, ready to put me to work?”
“Is that even a question?”
ChapterThirteen
According to Lily, Erin volunteered every year to head the construction portion of the setup for the town’s annual harvest festival. As their large group of adults left the pub behind, she assigned them to various booths and parts of downtown to help out. Carter and JD were led toward the west side of the square. As they passed the post office, Carter noticed an elderly woman, her hair an eye-catching fluorescent yellow, setting up a series of cornhole games whose boards were each painted with a cartoon monster. Shelves of prizes had been erected against the front facade of the post office, awaiting the winners of the games. It wasn’t so much the hair that made him do a double take as it was what the woman held at the end of the leash attached to her wrist: a massive orange and white striped tabby. The cat eyed their group as they approached on the sidewalk, looking like a king eyeing his peons.
JD noticed his distraction and called out, “Hello, Lou! How is Snookums tonight?”
“Snookums?” Carter asked out of the side of his mouth.
“What else would he be named?”
Carter laughed when JD got caught up discussing Snookums’s latest vet visit while Erin dragged Carter away. When they arrived at the First Baptist Church behind the post office, Carter was a bit relieved to see the couple she introduced him to was a bit less eccentric and incredibly kind. Mr. and Mrs. Gibson were well into their seventies and reminded him somewhat of his own grandparents when they’d been alive.
“For years we owned a sweets shop across town,” Mrs. Gibson told him, her kind smile gleaming against wrinkled black skin. “That was before that lovely young woman, Claire, started Gimme Sugar. Got to the point where it was time for us to retire, you know, but everyone loved our caramel apples, and even if we’re gettin’ on in years, we love doing things like this for the kids, don’t we?” She waved a hand to her husband.
“Course we do.” Mr. Gibson said from his seat near the front of the booth, his cane leaning against the side of his leg as he sorted the signs for the various flavors of caramel apples they offered.
“I’m certain the kids appreciate it.” Carter lightly tapped a nail into place, putting the shelves together to hold the trays of goodies for tomorrow night. As he worked, he watched Mrs. Gibson tack the signs her husband handed her to the trays that would hold each flavor of apple: cookies and cream, pecan rolled, chocolate dipped, s’mores, even one titledmargarita.“My mouth is watering just thinking about all of those.”
