Page 80 of Small Town, Big Storm

I can feel the eyes on me, have seen more than one person surreptitiously take a picture I’ll probably find online tomorrow.

And…

I can’t find it in me to care.

Same as I can’t be pissed that Shep is sharing rumors—or well, hethinksthey’re rumors because there’s no fucking way I’ll ever cop to being a hair model for Knox’s practice sessions.

Yes, there are pictures.

Yes, I made the guys swear under pain of death to never—fuckingnever—show anyone those photos and they agreed.

Because they’re my family.

Correction:weremy family.

I’m not on the Sierra’s roster any longer.

I don’t see them on the regular anymore.Or maybe…it’s that it’s too fucking painful to see them at all.Especially Joey and Damon and?—

A brush of fingers over mine has my head snapping up.

Poppy’s back from serving the drinks, and her expression is concerned, as though she’s somehow sensed what I was just feeling.But she doesn’t comment, just smiles softly before she takes another order, pours even more drinks.

At least all the gossip-seekers mean that she’s selling a fuck-ton of alcohol.

She hefts the tray and slips out from behind the bar to deliver them.

“She sure makes a wicked cocktail,” Shep says, smiling like a dumbass as he lifts his drink, takes a long slurp, sighs happily.“And, God, she’s hot as fuck.”

“Talk about my Poppy again like that and I’ll rip your dick off,” I say conversationally.

Someone titters behind me—and I just know I’ve made it into another fucking post—but I’m more focused on Shep.

The man gets a lot of pussy, flirts like a machine, and has never met a woman he doesn’t like.

And most of the time they like him back.

“I’m not talking aboutyour”—the emphasis he puts on theyourmakes me want to punch him—“Poppy.”He swings his drink to the side, sloshing some over the rim.“I’m talking about Space Buns.”

“Space—” I scrub a hand over my face, try to process what the fuck he’s saying, but my head is getting fuzzier by the second.“What’s a Space Bun?”

“Those”—he gestures to his head—“buns girls wear.The two of them on their head.”

“Like Princess Leia?”

“No, dude.That’s, like, over her ears.Space Buns are on the top of the head.”He jerks his chin to a table in the corner.“See?”

I noticed the table of women—mostly because Poppy has gone over to them more than once already.

I just…hadn’t noticed the buns.

Or not the bunssittingat the table.

Poppy’s, on the other hand?—

And Christ, I’m cutting myself off.

That was the worst Dad Joke of all time and I’m not even?—