Page 17 of South of The Skyway

“That awkward thing when you say goodbye but have to walk in the same direction.”

“It would seem so.”

“So?”

“No. Wejustparted ways.”

“Fine. How long am I waiting today? Fifteen seconds?”

I smirked up at him, shaking my head at the amusement written over his features while some kind of desperate humiliation rodent burrowed into my belly. “Make it thirty.”

“Seems excessive.”

“To each their own.”

His chuckle sent flames up my neck. “Alright, Ace. You’ve got thirty seconds. Better make ‘em count.”

I madeit back to The Cracked Corset before glancing at my phone to see a smiley emoji and “Rhyett Rhodes.”

Well, that was interesting.

EIGHT

RHYETT

The three little dots indicating Jameson’s forming response were amputated by the flash of his face as my phone buzzed in my palm. I’d texted him that fate was swift, and the moment I answered his call, he barked, “No way, man.” Disbelieving laughter ensued.

“Get this, her dog—which is a gorgeous mini golden retriever, by the way—wouldn’t listen when called and ran right into my arms after the squirrel fled up a tree.” Jameson had always been absolutely obsessed with Goldens and naturally loved those that kept them happy.

“That’s some chick-flick level shit.”

“I know. She’s joining me tonight at The Pint.”

“If she didn’t just tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“You’re a terrible wingman,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Yes, well, you left Alaska, not the other way around.”

“Hey, probably temporary. Plant a few businesses, come home at least for the summers.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. So, what time are you meeting up?”

My feet came to a halt outside the crumbling facade. This place had been beautiful in its day. I could just see it in the architecture, behind the peeling coral paint and dented plaster. The wide-open windows would let in a ton of light during the day. Jeanne and Elora would lose their freaking shit over the intact cornices in the doorway. A few months of restoration, and a less unfortunate color palette, and we’d be in business.

“Well, I mean… technically, she said no, but I have a good feeling.”

“It’s official. You’re pathetic.”

“Seven. Reservation is at seven.”

“Six, five, four, three—”

I snorted indignantly. Shook my head. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“That’s three pm here.”

“Did you just count on your fingers?”

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