Page 109 of Just One More Thing

Miss Hattie cups a hand around her mouth. “USER ERROR.”

“Thank you, Miss Hattie.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

I clear my throat and look back out at the town that’s always been here for me. “I’m gonna keep this short because I knowbetter than to stand between y’all and a party.” That gets a ripple of laughter.

“But I do want to say thank you.”

The breeze catches the edge of the banner behind me.

“Every one of you showed up today and tonight for Big Dog Ranch Rescue,” I continue. “You signed up for events. You donated. You volunteered. You bought more hot dogs than The Salty Dog legally should’ve sold.”

Miss Hattie raises a Solo cup proudly. “Dogs for dogs,” she shouts.

“We raised more money today than we did the last two years combined.” The applause swells fast. “Because of you, a whole lot of dogs are gonna end up with loving homes.”

Cheers break out across The Green. Whistles. Clapping. Somebody yells, “WOO.”

I spot Ryan near the edge of the crowd, hat low, arms crossed, easy grin in place. Wayne is beside him, already halfway into somebody else’s personal space. “I also want to thank Ryan Knox and Wayne Kerr for making the trip up from Tampa this weekend and pretending like they don’t have a season starting Monday.”

The crowd cheers louder than either of them probably expected. Ryan lifts a hand. Wayne bows dramatically, then points toward three separate sections of the crowd like he’s accepting an award.

“Thank you, Blue Crab Bay,” I say, stepping back from the mic. “Let’s do it again next year. Now we party.”

The Tail Flickers launch into the first song, something upbeat and beachy, and the dance floor fills almost immediately.

Wayne is first out there, obviously.

He attempts what I think is a hip swivel, but it looks more like a man fighting an invisible bee.

I’m at the drink table when I see her. Mo’s walking toward me through all the movement and noise, eyes locked on mine.

And damn.

She’s stunning.

The white dress catches every breeze coming off the water, soft against her tan skin, hair down in loose waves. There’s a specific kind of ache that comes with wanting something this badly and still knowing better than to grab too fast.

She stops in front of me. “You’re beautiful,” I say.

Her smile softens immediately, and she glances down. I tip her chin back up gently. “I mean it.” Her eyes hold mine for a few heartbeats.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

I hand over the drink I’d been making for her. “Made you a Salty Dog. But if you want something else, I’ll make whatever you want.”

“A Salty Dog is perfect,” she says, taking the cup. She sips, then closes her eyes for half a second. “Mmm. Okay, yeah. That hits the spot.”

“You were incredible today, Mo. Every event. All of it.”

She wrinkles her nose. “I smelled like fish for six straight hours.”

“You did.”

“Hey! You’re supposed to disagree with that.”