Page 17 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I BARELY HAVE a chance to step through the door, and Josie’s hand shoves my back, sending me stumbling into the Kiwi’s Bar.
The air is thick with the scent of whiskey, leather, cloves, and burnt tobacco—Kiwi’s signature scent.
Before I can even straighten, the dim lights flicker on, and an explosion of confetti bursts into my face.
I jump, and blink, and scream, all at the same time.
“Happy Birthday!”
My sisters and cousins leap out from behind booths, tables, and the bar, ambushing me in a party I would never want.
“Surprise!!” Their screams are deafening, and echo off the exposed metal pipes running above the green walls.
Hannah drapes a glittery sash over my shoulder, the bright pink blinding against my usual neutrally hued wardrobe.
Hope thrusts a bouquet of helium balloons into my hand. The giant three and zero in rose gold foil twinkle off the pendant lights along the ceiling, surrounded by enough latex balloons that I’m surprised I don’t float away. All zipping upward from the strings I grip.
The balloons? Fine.
The sash? Whatever.
But when Natalie takes my hat? That’s where I draw the line.
I reach for it. “Wait, I want that—”
A ridiculous, oversized glittery tiara is placed on my head. Its gaudy jewels spell out “Happy Birthday” in bold, flashy letters.
I’m so not impressed.
My hair pulls when Josie loosens and tightens my ponytail, dragging it upward to the middle of my head.
I hit her hands away and rub my scalp. “Stop.” My brain scrambles to catch up. “Good Lord, why?”
“The big 3-0!” Hope blows a party horn so loud it blares over the country song blasting from the jukebox. “Since we’re going to be at the rodeo on your birthday, we thought we’d celebrate before we go.”
I’d rather have a quiet night in with sweatpants, watching the nature channel, and a bowl of queso I don’t have to share.
I glance down at the pink sash that reads “I’m a Wild One.”
I get what they’ve done here.
The words scream their intention, and the “wild” part is a little too on-the-nose. I’d rip it off, but I let them have their moment. Let them think their little wink toward Hart Wilde is so clever.
If only they realized how off the mark they are. We fight out of pure hatred, not some hidden attraction. That’s how we were raised, and my sister marrying his brother doesn’t just erase years of built-up anger. But that’s just scratching the surface. And even I can’t hide from my own lie. No wonder I’ve never been able to convince them otherwise.
Josie straightens the sash. “You like it?” The wicked little smile that creeps up her lips gives her away.
Before I can cuss her out, my cousins Daisy and Celi wrap me in a big hug, nearly suffocating me in the process.
“Happy Birthday, Cuz.”
My sisters join in this group hug that feels like it’s never going to end, much like the glittery confetti still floating in the air.
I’m grateful when I spot Kiwi round the counter with a tray of drinks. Alcohol has never called my name the way it does right now.
That’s saying something, considering I’m Celi’s taste tester. My cousin works at the main bar at The Fox Lodge and is a master at mixing unusual cocktails, famous for her fun, seasonal drinks.
St. Patrick’s Day was this month, and she served green cotton candy-topped mojitos, shamrock-flavored snow cones with a shot of whiskey, and a Guinness float that had everyone talking—including me.
