Page 6 of A Very Merry Enemy
“At Moonshiners?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Don’t do anything stupid.”
I flip him off, and he laughs before heading toward the main lot.
I stay in the back field until the sun starts to set, cutting trees until my arms ache and my head’s finally quiet. By the time I head home to shower and change, I’m exhausted.
But it’s the good kind. The kind that comes from honest work.
The kind that makes me forget, for a few hours, that Holiday Patterson exists and she’s back in Merryville.
At eight, I drive to town to meet Sammy at Moonshiners.
The bar is packed, but I expected that. It’s Friday night, the first weekend of tree season, and everyone in town is celebrating. Moonshiners is the only real bar in downtown Merryville, and it shows. The place is all dark wood, and Christmas lights are strung along the walls year-round. Garland wraps around the bar, wreaths hang in the windows, and there’s a massive tree in the corner decorated with ornaments from local businesses. A neon sign behind the bar reads “Shine Bright” in red and green.
The live band is set up on a small stage in the back, playing covers of country songs. The dance floor is full of couples, and every table is occupied. The energy is high, and loud conversations mix with music and laughter. I find two empty stools at the end of the bar and order a Shiner.
“Long day?” the bartender asks. His name’s Mike and he’s been working here since I was old enough to drink.
“You have no idea,” I tell him.
“First day was good?”
“Great. Busy as hell,” I say, already feeling sore from the manual labor.
“That’s what I like to hear.” He slides my beer across the bar. “This one’s on the house.”
“Appreciate it,” I say.
Sammy shows up twenty minutes later, grinning. “There’s my favorite lumberjack.”
“Shut the hell up,” I say, finishing my first beer.
He slides onto the stool next to me and orders us a round.
The bottles are set in front of us.
“How was day one?” he asks.
“Exhausting, but we broke last year’s first day record. I couldn’t believe it.”
“I heard about the bakery selling out, too.”
I take a long pull of my beer. “Yeah. Don’t care about that.”
Sammy laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “Lucas. Come on. You both need to get over this thing between you two.”
I signal Mike for another beer. “Nope. Don’t have to tolerate her anymore.”
“I’m still trying to figure out what the hell happened between you two.” He leans forward. “I know something went down that Christmas when she came home from culinary school.”
“Told you. She’s a bitch. Don’t want to be friends with liars. Your twin sister is a piece of shit. Glad you’re not.”
He studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “I wish we could go back to how things were when we were kids.”
“Oh, that will never happen again,” I say. “Don’t count on it.”
