Page 89 of Valentine Nook
“I think I am.”
“Well, good, what are you drinkin’?”
I turn back to the door, in case Lando’s arrived, but there’s no one by the door except a small dog. “I’ll wait for Lando.”
“Suit yourself,” Eddie replies, turning to put the glasses on the shelves.
I use the time to go through my phone and read all themessages that have flooded through on the Simpson Family Chat Group today after one of my nephews caught a ball in Little League with his face, knocking out the brand-newadulttooth that had just grown through.
I’m debating what to reply when the stool next to me moves, and my head snaps up only for the smile to falter when I see it’s not Lando, just a random guy, so I resume with the messages.
“You must be Holiday.”
My eyes flick toward the voice. I’ve been in Valentine Nook long enough now that I’m recognizing people. Whether it’s at The Beanery or Valentine Cook or passing down the main street where I’ll offer up a smile.
I’veneverseen this guy, and the way he says my name has my hackles rising.
“Have we met?”
The guy pulls a packet of tissues from his pocket and places them on the bar next to a brown cardboard box. I lean back. If this guy’s sick, I don’t want to be anywhere near him.
“We haven’t,” he replies, at which point Eddie stops putting glasses away and turns around. “Hello, Eddie.”
Eddie, who I’ve only ever known to be the curmudgeonly grandpa type, looks so menacing that I’m momentarily speechless.
“Get the fuck out,” he hisses. “You know better than to show your face around here.”
The guy nods and rolls his mouth into a hard line. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait for the duke to tell me that.”
“Your funeral.”
Ice cubes clatter as Eddie scoops them up from the cold bin, drops them in a bowl, and slings it across the bar, where the guy thumps down a fist and stops it from going any further.
He neatly lines up the packet of tissues next to it.
Okay, this is fucking weird.
“Are you sick?” I can’t stop myself from asking.
Mystery dude huffs out a small chuckle. “Nope. But I say I have about five minutes before I’ll need them.”
I go back to my messages and try to focus on my siblings arguing over what to do about my nephew’s missing tooth, but my eyes are too busy flicking between this guy in front of me and the door where I’m hoping Lando will walk through any moment.
When he does, he marches across the stone floor, barely offers me a glance, and punches the mystery man square in the nose.
CHAPTER 17
Lando
“A’right, everybody out,” Eddie yells. “C’mon. Let’s go. OUT. Take yer drinks with you.”
There’s a scramble of chairs behind me, along with loud grumbles of protest, a yapping Jack Russell, and the sound of glasses being placed on tables. I hadn’t realized it was quite so busy when I stormed in, but I guess I wasn’t paying attention.
“OUT.”
Feet shuffle toward the doors as Eddie’s customers slowly make their exit, only to stand outside and peer through the windows. I understand their reluctance and curiosity at what’s going on because they need as many facts as possible to accurately spread what will undoubtedly be the most exciting piece of village gossip since the wedding was canceled.
But hey, that’s me. Doing what I can to keep Valentine Nook entertained.
