Page 47 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

“Because there’s an ordinance that requires at least four hundred yards between any establishments with a liquor license.”

I grinned at the sassy smirk on her pretty mouth. “You’ve done some research.”

“No, I’ve just been here many, many times. Pops has lived here his entire adult life and loves to tell stories. I know a lot about Quincy. Even if I don’t know the people yet. Even if I’m an outsider.”

Oh, did she hate that word. I guess in her shoes, I’d hate it too.

“The ordinance was my great-great-grandmother’s idea,” I told her as we made our way across those four hundred yards toward the Old Mill. “My great-great-grandfather founded Quincy. Our family has lived here ever since. The running joke in town is that you can’t throw a rock without hitting an Eden.”

With aunts, uncles and cousins, I had countless relatives living in town. My parents had taken the unofficial helm of the family. Most of the businesses that had been started by my great-great-grandfather and his descendants had funneled down to my grandfather. He’d then passed them to my father.

Some of my other relatives were entrepreneurs in town, but for the most part, my parents, my siblings, or I owned and operated most of the businesses with the Eden name.

“Old Mill was the first bar in Quincy,” I said. “Started shortly after the town was founded. The story goes that my great-great-grandmother allowed my great-great-grandfather to open the bar but only if the bartender was employed by her. That way, she could set the rules.”

“The rules? Like how many drinks he could have?”

I nodded. “And how late to serve him. But she was worried that someone else would come in and open another bar. According to family rumor, she was a fairly shrewd businesswoman herself, so she suggested the ordinance, and since the Edens were pretty much in charge at the time . . .”

“It passed.”

“Exactly. The town was only two blocks at that time. She figured it would take a hundred years for it to double in size. A four-hundred-yard radius not only gave her control of the alcohol in town, but control over her husband’s drinking habits.”

Winn smiled. “And it hasn’t changed.”

“Nope. The town grew but that ordinance stuck around.”

“Which makes sense why Willie’s isn’t on Main.”

“It’s not long enough, so they established it five blocks off Main and it became the locals’ hangout.”

And the place where I’d never expected to meet this intriguing creation.

We passed two men, tourists based on their polo shirts, jeans and unscuffed boots. They both looked Winn up and down. It wasn’t subtle and her mouth pressed into a line as she ignored them, her eyes aimed forward.

Brave men, not only because she was wearing a gun, but because I was a possessive bastard. With one glare from me, they each dropped their eyes to the sidewalk.

That would always be a problem with Winn.

She was too beautiful. You didn’t expect to see a woman so stunning walking down the streets of Quincy. Her hair was down today, straight and long as it draped down her spine. Without sunglasses to shield her eyes, those blue irises sparkled beneath the afternoon sun.

We reached an intersection and she checked both ways before crossing the street and marching to the bar. Her shoulders were square and her serious face in place as she opened the door.

Old Mill wasn’t the over-the-top scene that was Big Sam’s. It was more of a sports bar, and if I wasn’t up for Willie’s, I came here to catch a game and have a drink. Flat screens were mounted between neon beer signs. Three keno machines hugged the wall just inside the door. Above them hung a framed Quincy Cowboys jersey. Two different baseball games were playing tonight, the announcers’ voices muted through the bar’s sound system.

“Does your family still own this place?” she asked as we walked toward the bar.

“Not anymore. My parents sold it to Chris when I was a kid.”

“Who’s Chris?”

I pointed to the bartender.

“Is there another ordinance in Quincy requiring all bartenders to have bushy white beards?”

“Not that I know of.” I chuckled and pulled out a stool for her at the bar before taking my own. “Hey, Chris.”

“Griff.” He nodded to me, then held his hand out to Winn. “You’re Covie’s granddaughter, right?”