Page 27 of Sweet Whiskey
Brielle glances at me, dazed. “I think I just got force motorboated at eight o’clock in the morning.”
“Well, you kind of started it?” I tell her with a slight grimace.
“It’s Susanne. I’ve heard about you two chickadees. Causing such a stir in our town, and you two are cute as buttons.” She moves back to the counter, gathering two menus, and gestures for us to sit at the counter. I brave looking around the rest of the diner, only to find a couple of people watching us. I’m not sure how to take that, considering Brielle and I were trying to do the opposite of stirring up trouble.
Susanne clicks her tongue. “You just missed the crowd. Had to head off early. Helping the ranch get ready for the rodeo.”
“There’s a rodeo here?” I ask. This would be a great opportunity to look for my father. We sit down on the stools, giving our backs to the rest of the patrons, and I focus on Susanne.
She shakes her head, and my hope plummets. “It’s down in Fort Worth. They’re just getting the boysready to leave. Cooper is one of the best riders in the state,” she says, setting down the plastic menus for us.
“Real life cowboys,” Brielle whispers under her breath as Susanne walks away from us to grab the coffeepot on the far counter.
“Now you girls want coffee? Or I still got some orange juice left for the morning. Freshly squeezed.”
“Coffee, my goddess. Just bring me the whole pot,” Brielle pleads.
I shake my head with laughter. “Do not bring her the whole pot. Brielle on caffeine overload will have me carrying her back to bed to sleep the rest of the day away.”
Susanne laughs. “My brother was like that. Anytime he couldn’t sleep, just took some caffeine to knock his ass out.” She pours us a cup and reaches under the counter to hand us some small blue cups of creamer.
“Gonna go make my coffee round and I’ll come back to take y’all’s order. I recommend thesteak and eggs, house special,” Susanne says with a smile before leaving us.
“Steak and eggs. I bet it’s like real steak and eggs. Farm fresh, ya know?” Brielle says, licking her lips.
My nose scrunches at her pleasant imagery as always. I’m not sure if she meant the eggs or the steak, and now my stomach is rolling. “What happened to not liking breakfast?”
“A girl is allowed to change her mind, Kins.”
Snickering, knowing she changes her mind all the time, I glance over the options myself, some of my appetite diminished. Then there’s the lingering hopelessness at ever finding my dad. Every time we enter an establishment, I have a small flicker of nerves that he’ll just be sitting there, as if waiting for me.
Brielle puts her hand over mine. “We won’t leave until we find him, okay? Even if I have to start stripping on the bar top.”
A snort escapes before I can stop it. I shake my head, forever grateful she’s able to read my emotions better than anyone I know. “Tracy saidclothes stay on at all times, unless we’re doing the wet t-shirt thingy.”
“I’m just saying I’d do it.”
Sighing, I hug her from the side. “Thank you. It means a lot to me.”
She shrugs off my touch, tossing her hair over her shoulders. “Ew, affection. Enough of that, please.”
Susanne returns, watching us with warm eyes. “Ready?”
When we’re done ordering, she stuffs the menus away and puts the ticket in the window. She leaves us to our own devices, only coming by every now and then to fill our coffees and then deliver the food. As soon as most of our plates are clear, my stomach flutters with nerves, working up the courage to ask for what I need.
“All done, dears? I can get the bill ready,” Susanne says, wiping her hands on her jeans before grabbing our plates to toss them into a bin on the counter.
I clear my throat. “Please. Also, can I ask about someone? I’m kind of looking for them.”
She looks at me curiously and shrugs. “Sure, honey. I’m not sure I’ll be the best help, but I’ll try.”
I pull out the photo and show it to her. “I don’t have much to go on.”
She looks it over, squinting at the photo. “It kind of looks like Levi. Hey, Sam! Come look at this. Say twenty years younger that could be Levi, yeah?”
A woman comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the end of her apron as she saunters to our table. She squints at the photo too and then grunts a rough yes before leaving back to where she came from.
Susanne rolls her eyes. “My wife ain’t as much of a talker, but she’s a damn good cook.”
