Page 36 of Best Kind of Trouble
Hannah scrunches her nose. “Yeah, so I think we’re going to have this sit-down next door. “No offense, Briar, but this place is rank.”
“Not to worry,” Dottie says. “We’ll clear that right up. I have just the thing for nullifying bad energy. My Wise Elders club already promised they’d help me with a psychic clearing later today. But in the meantime, next door would do just fine. They have that lovely brandy drink. The one with the milk and the egg whites.”
My stomach lurches, and I run toward the bathroom.
“Oh, God,” Hannah groans. “Not another Code V.”
Someone follows me inside, and the next thing I’m aware of is a strong, capable hand pulling my long hair back into a knot. Shame curdles inside of me even before I vomit.
Because I know it’s Liam who’s holding my hair back.
CHAPTER NINE
BRIAR
Half an hour later, I’m sitting in the bar next door, Great Escape, at a table with Dottie, Sophie, Hannah, and Otis.
I’m mostly sober, having doused my face with freezing cold water after puking in Silver Star’s bathroom. My stomach is still a little queasy, but saltines and black tea have helped. Hannah and Sophie are drinking tea in solidarity, and Dottie, thank God, decided against the hideous milk-brandy concoction and is drinking tea too. It’s nothing like Dottie’s tea, obviously, but at least it’s strong.
Otis, the sole tea-holdout, went for a beer.
“All better?” Dottie asks me.
I nod, sighing, still mortified that Liam saw me vomit. He’s still at Silver Star, looking for the fish. Once that’s been dealt with, he’s going to collect everything he needs from the storeroom to get going on the pale ale.
“Can we talk about staffing now?” Sophie asks. “Because Otis and I have this crafting event to get to at five.”
“Want to come?” Otis asks me with a sweet smile as he tugs his hat down even lower on his forehead. “We’re making pape-ier ma-chay pots. It’s French.”
“No, thanks.”
“Oh…” He gives Sophie a hesitant glance as she sips her tea. “Well, I could probably sit out of this one, if you need help at the brewery. Or some company.”
“That’s it.” Hannah smacks the table so hard all of our cups jump a millimeter. “I’m signing this kid up for Tinder. Right now. Immediately. No is no longer an option.”
Otis rolls his eyes at her. “Seriously, Hannah? I’m already on Tinder. Everyone I know is.”
“Really?” Sophie remarks with interest. “I’ve never seen you bring a girl home, but youdohave an awful lot of condoms. When do you do it? Do you wait until your grandmother is at one of her club meetings?”
“And if everyone you know is on it,” Hannah adds, “have you ever had one of those awkward moments, where you, like, know the girl who works at the comic bookstore is kinky, and she knows you like food play?”
He swears under his breath. “Could we please not talk about this right now?”
“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” Dottie titters as she stirs her tea. “There’s no shame in searching for love. Or having fun while doing it. Of course, they didn’t have Tinder when I was your age. Back then, you met through friends or at community hall dances and hoped for the best. But after my partner Beau died, my friends did encourage me to start dating again. One of them even created one of those accounts for me.”
“They did?” Hannah asks, her eyes full of fascination. “Tell me everything. No detail is too small.”
Dottie laughs, tapping her spoon against the side of the teacup before setting it down. “Nothing came of it. I wasn’t ready to so much as think of dating again, until Bear convinced me otherwise.”
“How’d he do that?” I ask, swept up by the story.
Although I fully intend to stick to my no-dating plan, possibly forever, part of me still yearns to find someone to share my life with. I’ve seen what it’s done for Sophie and Hannah.
I find joy in life—in my friends, in the peace from doing yoga in the early morning with Karma padding around me, and in watching the sun rise and set over the mountains with a mug of tea. But I don’t feel the kind of joy I know my friends do.
“Oh, the dear man. He made me a tea blend that spoke his intentions as clearly as any handwritten note. There was chamomile for relaxation, ginger for courage, and rose hips for love. I drank down every drop, even though it didn’t taste very good. And he declared himself in front of all of our friends. It wasbeautiful. I hadn’t intended to fall in love again, but his love lifted me over every barrier. How could a woman help falling for a man like that?”
“Wow, that must have taken a lot of effort,” Otis says. “Would you have gone for him if he’d just, like, asked you to hang?”
