Page 74 of Small Town, Big Storm

A wink.“That’s how I know it’ll get done.”

“I—” I begin but Gertie’s already walking away, bustling toward her table, her phone in hand.Never mind.I focus on what’s important (and that’s definitely not talking Gertie out of something when she has her mind set on it).“Thanks for making sure Megan gets home safely,” I say when Cassie returns from delivering the beers.I snag the tray from her and give her a quick hug before nudging her toward the door.“Now get out of here and go rest up.”

Cassie’s had a rough few years and a lot of thatroughhas meant her picking up every extra job she can.

Even to the detriment of her body and mind and soul.

Who needs sleep, anyway, am I right?

At least that’s a sentiment that has gotten me through many a long night…and day…and week and month and, well,year.

She bumps my shoulder, kisses my cheek.“Thanks, Pop,” she says.“But maybe take some of your own advice to heart,” she adds.

And before I can assure her I’m fine, she slips into the break room and returns with her purse and coat.A moment later, she’s got Megan off her stool and is shepherding her out the front door.

Sighing at busybodies—and friends—I get busy taking orders.

It’s not long before I’m mixing up a couple of Storm Warnings—no surprise that the drink has had a sudden blip in popularity with Storm back in town and the surplus of stories about us on the Cedar Hollow Gazette’s website.

And Facebook.

And Instagram.

It’s absurd that they published a story about the three of us skating…though I have to admit that I liked the pictures so much I downloaded one and saved it to a secret folder on my phone.

Still, I can’t wait for something more interesting than Storm and me to draw focus.

I’m getting really tired of being front page news.

Shaking my head at my little town’s nonsense, I focus on mixing drinks and getting refills and making my rounds, so I don’t immediately notice that the door’s stayed open for longer than it should for Megan and Cassie to slip out.

But eventually, I realize the bar’s gonna a little hushed and look up.

My heart thuds hard against my ribs and I force my eyes away from the sight of Storm stepping into Sully’s.

And my reaction to the sight of him.

And how good it feels to have him here.

And how much I want it to be an everyday thing.

That thought—thatdangerousthought—has me dropping back into myself, and doing it hard.

So hard it feels like I get whiplash.

Whirling around on my heel, I focus on work.On making those drinks, on delivering the last of the food from the kitchen before it closes down for the night, on making sure every table is happy and refills are served as needed.

Even on making sure Paige and her sneer get another round.

God, would it kill the woman to say please or thank you?

But at least her attitude helps me focus…

On everything and anything I can that’snotStorm being here.

Unfortunately, he’s not so easy to ignore.

Especially when he comes up to the bar, resting one strong forearm on the worn wood, his muscles flexing beneath the thin hoodie he must have put on to combat the slight chill in the evening.