Page 43 of Whiskey Proposal

“Oh,” she says on a breath, her gaze stuck on him.

Brooks enters, his brows lifting and his steps slowing, likely at the sight of so many women gawking at him.

Clem hasn’t moved.

“You okay?” I ask, only loud enough so she can hear.

She gives herself a shake, blinking. “What? Of course. He just looks like . . . someone I know.”

“And there’s Brooks.” Edna’s chair creaks as she pushes away from the table. Brooks has no choice but to be encompassed in a hug. Edna’s half his size, but he’s careful with her. Hillary slams into his legs, chattering about Prescott’s rescues, influencers, and Shirley Temples. I don’t know what he likes to drink, and I don’t know if he’s staying, but I start on a fresh Shirley Temple for him.

“Didn’t you go to school with the Langleys?” I ask to a Clem who’s rooted in her spot, watching Hillary drag Brooks around to introduce him.

Prescott gets the longest introduction from Hillary. Then Elodie and her baked goods. He shoves his hands in his pockets, shaking no one’s hands, but nodding politely and murmuring, “Nice to meet you.”

Clem looks away and back at Brooks again. “He’s older.”

“But you knew him?”

“I guess.” She stiffens as Hillary drags her dad to the bar. “And this is Clem. Daddy, she’s read the Wingfeather books.”

“Nice to meet you.” Brooks’s eyes narrow on Clem as he takes her in. “You like dragons too?”

Before Clem can answer, Hillary tugs on his arm. “She’s a writer.”

A squeak leaves Clem. “Yes. Of thrillers.” She spins to me. “I have to check on something. Behind the front desk.”

What the hell is up with her? “Whatever you need.”

Clem claps her hands together and smiles at Hillary. “It was so nice to meet you. I’m at the library most days when it’s open.”

She scurries away. There’s a furrow in Brooks’s brow as he watches her. I slide the drink I made toward him.

His gaze drops to it. “Thanks, but I better not.”

“It’s just Sprite and grenadine,” I say. “If you don’t want it, that’s fine, but it’s nonalcoholic.”

He digs out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

“It’s all friends and family here.” Edna insists on paying for everyone and then we give it back to her as a bonus at the end of the year.

“We’re neither.” He says it plainly, no heat in his tone.

“I’m their friend,” Hillary argues and points to me. “And he’s married to Auntie Em.”

I nod. “You’re going to have to take that up with Edna, and I’m sure you’ll lose.”

He puffs out a faint chuckle and grabs his drink. “Thanks, man.”

“Let me show you what I’m working on! Wait here.” Hillary darts away.

Brooks slides onto a stool, watching her interact with the table of women over his shoulder.

“She seemed to have fun. If you get leads on several bunnies up for adoption, you’ll have to blame Prescott.” I tip my head in the direction of the table Emerson’s at. “She works with rescues.”

“I almost have a hutch built.” He scrubs his face. “The irony is that’s what my dad was called all his life—Hutch. Then I get a girl who’s obsessed with rabbits.”

I chuckle and my gaze strays to Emerson like it’s been doing all damn day.