Two Bar Mitzvahs (No Weddings #3)(38)

I sighed, wishing I could obliterate all the crap. Hannah didn’t deserve to be dragged into the mud that Madison seemed hell-bent on flinging. A part of me thought f*ck it, I’ll kidnap Hannah to our tropical island, and the rest of the world would still spin, going on without us.

But I wasn’t built to escape responsibility. Letting people down didn’t exist as an option. Kristen may have offered to take over, but I knew she and the girls would struggle to handle it all. They needed me. Hannah needed me.

I just needed to figure out a way to keep the balance.





17


Weekender


As I loaded the back of the Jeep Mase and I shared, the drama of last weekend and the pressure of getting two more events nailed out began to fade into anticipation for the party at my parents’ place. I needed to relax more than I’d realized. The realization hit when my alarm sounded and I’d raced around, excited as I tossed last minute items together—without the jolt of coffee. Yeah, that happened before noon like…never.

I bent over and lifted the last box Kristen had dropped off yesterday, then slid it onto the only remaining open space on the floor. After scanning the tightly packed area, I wedged my leather overnighter into a safe place on a box between two bags of decorations. Almost set.

When I went back into the house to retrieve Ava’s supplies (her leash, crate, bowls, and food enough to last the weekend), the pup trotted behind, jumping around, unable to contain her eagerness. That made two of us.

I laughed. “That’s right, girl. We’re goin’ on a trip.”

Mase followed us out front, barefoot with a half-full beer bottle in hand. “If she stalls out, cut the engine, pump the gas, and count to ten before trying to start her again.”

Confused, I turned around, brows drawn low. “What?”

The lazy shit busted up laughing. “Just messin’ with ya’, man. Tuned her up last week. She purrs like a kitten.”

Amped about the trip, I shook my head with a snort. The Jeep was his daily driver, and I’d freaked thinking I’d have to scramble for transportation. “Do not f*ck with me this early. I’m uncaffeinated. Uncool, man.” I pegged him with a serious look. “Take good care of my bike. I’ll take good care of your wheels.”

“And my dog.” Mase squatted, and Ava raced over to him and jumped against his chest. He fell back, pretending she’d had the force to tackle him. Then he tumbled over her, growling and roughhousing.

I chuckled. “And your dog? I figured our shared custody agreement allowed for a weekend at the parents’.”

Ava and Mase really had taken to one another. Even though the dog was a gift to Hannah, Ava stayed at our place. But after all the months Mase had campaigned to get a dog, bringing her into the house had done wonders for the guy. Instead of being holed up in his room, morose when he couldn’t ride waves because of the weather—or his woman, because of her law school studies—he spent time out in the yard, bonding with his new best friend.

I patted the passenger seat while calling, “Come on, girl!” Ava looked at it, decided it was too big a leap, and jumped onto the floorboard first instead, then the seat.

After closing the door, I saluted Mase. “Don’t burn the house down.”

He flipped me off.

I grinned, shaking my head. “See ya’ Sunday.”

Before picking up Hannah, I drove over to Loading Zone, needing to drop off my draft of next year’s business plan to Ben. I knew he’d be there this early; the man lived and breathed our bar.

I parked in the shaded spaces around back and shut off the engine. Ava tilted her head as she stared at me, one ear flopping to the side.

“I’ll be right back girl.” After I closed the door, I used the remote start on my keychain to lock the doors. Then I restarted the Jeep, letting it idle with the A/C on full blast to keep her cool.

I unlocked Loading Zone’s back door and walked down the hallway to Ben’s office. He wasn’t in there, but I dropped the paperwork onto the center of his desk. Light shone down the hall from the bar area. I continued toward the front to investigate.

Ben stood behind the bar with a scowl on his face, arms propped on the edge of the counter. He glanced my way. “We have company.” The warning look he gave me shouted that it wasn’t the good kind.

“Who’s here?” I racked my brain. The time of day threw me.

“Health inspector.”

“Didn’t we just have an inspection three weeks ago?”

“There was a complaint,” Ben clarified.

I frowned. “About what?”

“Some bullshit about a bartender not handling the fruit with a gloved hand. She got sick a few hours later.”

“She?” Couldn’t be Madison. Or could it? No. The girl on the phone, crying, wanting to be different, asking for my forgiveness wouldn’t be that stupid.

The inspector walked out from the kitchen area and approached Ben. “Here’s a copy of my report. You guys run a clean shop, and I’m impressed with everything. Please remind your bartenders to wear gloves when directly handling food. Last time I was here, they were all good. It was during operating hours, and I didn’t see any infractions.”

“Hi, Spence.” It was the same inspector we usually got. “Great to see you again.” I shook his hand. “Did the complainant give their name, any other details?