Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
He paused in the doorway. “Where is Devlin, anyway? I’d like to have a talk with him.”
My brows rose. “You would? About what?”
“You,” he said simply. “You’re one hottie, and he shouldn’t dump you. But he’s going to, so I just want some heads-up.”
I couldn’t believe this man. “Aiden’s out of town right now, but I’ll make sure he calls you the second he gets back.”
“Where is he?”
“Goodbye, Henry.” I gestured firmly toward the door.
Henry gave an exaggerated sigh and stepped outside. I locked the door behind him before he could change his mind and wander back in.
I walked back through the office toward my desk. I’d already filed the Answer for Nana’s case, but I wanted to draft discovery requests before the weekend.
I sat down, booted up my computer, and worked for a couple of hours, losing myself in the rhythm of legalese and coffee. Eventually, I stretched, rolling my shoulders until they popped.
I needed to go home, let Brickhouse out, and find something edible that didn’t come from a vending machine. I wished Aiden were coming home tonight. The thought made the office feel even emptier. I put on my coat, shut everything down, and double-checked the locks before heading outside. The rain had softened into a mist, beading on my hair as I crossed the lot to my car. The Fiat was cold inside, the leather seat stiff and smelling faintly of oil and rainwater.
As I pulled out of the lot, my phone buzzed in the cup holder. My sister Donna’s face lit the screen.
“Hey, Donna,” I said, putting the call on speaker. “What’s up?”
Maybe she’d made dinner, though that was wishful thinking. Donna’s cooking was hit-or-miss—mostly miss.
“Luanne just called me from the Clumsy Penguin,” she said without preamble. I could hear the crunch of tires beneath her car as she drove. “Nana and Nonna are there. Doing shots.”
I almost hit the brakes. “Wait, what? Shots?”
“Yup. Luanne says they’ve been at it for hours. They’re loaded.”
“Oh, God.” I rubbed my forehead. “They came all the way over from the valley to drink?”
A horn honked across the line. “Apparently.”
I flipped the car around. “I’ll meet you there. I think Tessa stayed over in the valley tonight. Should we call anybody else?”
“Move it, truck,” Donna bellowed. “Don’t call anybody. Let’s figure out what’s going on before we drag the rest of the family into this.”
“Good plan.” I hit the gas, following the familiar winding road around the lake toward the Clumsy Penguin. The wipers squeaked against the windshield as the headlights bounced off the wet pavement.
When I finally pulled into the parking lot, Donna was just getting out of her SUV. She slammed the door, and we both ran through the rain toward the entrance.
Inside, the place was loud, full of that humid warmth that comes from fried food and spilled beer. Luanne waved frantically from the far end of the bar. We hurried over.
Sure enough, Nana O’Shea stood confidently behind the bar, shaking a bag of chicken wings in flour and spices like she owned the place. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was slightly off-center, and she was humming a tune that might’ve been “Danny Boy.”
Nonna sat on a stool on the customer side, chewing on a maraschino cherry. “Girls. How nice of you to join us.” Her eyes were bright and her words just a touch slurred.
“Oh, crap,” I muttered, looking over the bar. “Nana, what are you doing?”
Luanne threw her hands up, exasperated. “I’ve asked her to move out from behind the bar several times.”
Nana didn’t even look up. “This is a much better way to coat the wings, dear. Especially with the green accents to celebrate the holiday. Watch.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Luanne backed away.
“Nana,” I said, moving closer.
She looked up, smiling widely. “Oh, hello, Anna. And Donna too. How nice of you to join us.”
She must not have heard Nonna say the exact same thing seconds earlier. Her cheeks glowed crimson, and her green eyes appeared bloodshot.
Donna leaned in and whispered, “They’re hammered.”
I nodded grimly, watching Nana proudly dust her hands and reach for another bag of wings.
We were going to need divine intervention, or a gallon of coffee, to get those two out of there alive.
“How much have you had to drink?” Donna asked, her voice tight.
“Oh, not much,” Nonna said, reaching over to pat Donna’s arm and nearly falling off the stool in the process.
Donna lurched forward and caught her. “Whoa.”
“Thank you,” Nonna said, smiling proudly, as if she’d just executed a flawless ballet move.
Across the bar, Nana sighed. “I am getting hungry. How about you, Elda?”
“Yes,” Nonna said. “Are you about done shaking those?”
Luanne looked like she wanted to sink through the floor. “Excuse me, but Mrs. O’Shea, we can’t serve food prepared by anybody but us in this establishment.”
“That’s just silly,” Nana said, her Irish lilt strong enough to make the words bounce. “This is the proper way to coat the wings.”