She leaned closer and murmured, “It’s been a week.”
Logan sighed. “I know.”
“Hey, Logan,” Tyson called out from his seat at the end of the bar. “Come have a beer with me.”
Logan nodded. “Go finish your shift. I’ll wait for you.”
He crossed the crowded room, stopping to say hello to a few people. One of the best—and worst—things about living in the same small town your whole life was that everybody knew everybody else. And not just in a “passing acquaintance” way, but in a “remember you when you were knee-high to a grasshopper” way.
As such, his buddy, Joel’s mom, Ms. Rodriguez had no compunction about asking him for the millionth time how he could have let that lovely girlfriend of his go. He politely told her the breakup had been Jane’s decision, not his.
TJ didn’t mind slapping him on the back and joking he’d been smart to avoid putting on the ball and chain. Then he’d not-too-subtly reminded him that his daughter Macie was still single.
Logan simply raised one eyebrow. “I think Macie is too much woman for me.”
TJ laughed loudly, the sound booming across the room. “Yeah. She probably is. What about my baby girl, Adele, then?”
TJ was always trying to play matchmaker for his daughters. Something that drove Macie and Adele nuts, since all those efforts were made right in front of them.
“Ignore him, Logan. We suspect dementia is setting in,” Macie called out from behind the bar. “And dear God, Dad. Why are you still here? You’re not even on the schedule to work today.”
“It’s happy hour,” TJ called out, lifting his beer and clinking glasses with Coach Carr.
Sparks Barbeque was actually TJ’s restaurant, but he left the cooking, waitressing, management, basically everything to the girls. And between the seven of them, they had put the restaurant—and by extension, Maris, Texas—on the map. The place had been featured in several national magazines as one of the best barbeque joints in the country, and just last month, Paige had received a call from the Food Network about filming a show there. For several days, the local gossips had been all abuzz about the possibility of their little town appearing on TV.
Finally, Logan made it to the bar, claiming the stool next to Tyson. “Busy in here tonight.”
Tyson shrugged. “It’s Friday in Maris.” He let the comment stand as if that explained it all, which it did. With the exception of Cruisers, which was on the outskirts of town and catered more to the party crowd, Sparks Barbeque was the only other option for social drinking. It was quieter, and it attracted the older men who liked to toss back a few with TJ, and the established couples out on dates, looking for a place where they didn’t have to yell to be heard over the loud music.
“Budweiser?” Macie asked him, even though she was already pouring the draft.
Logan nodded his thanks as Macie went back to the other end of the bar, continuing the story she’d been telling Coop without missing a beat.
“You know,” Tyson said, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe we should get the band back together.”
Logan laughed as he shook his head. He, Tyson, and their friends Harley and Caleb had formed Ty’s Collective back in high school. When Caleb and Tyson went off to college, they’d do local gigs whenever the guys were home over holidays and then they had resurrected it full-time after Tyson graduated from med school and returned to Maris. “Hell no.”
“Why not?”
Logan lifted his hand as he ticked off his reasons. “For one thing, Cal’s too busy running his father’s Feed and Seed while he recovers from his heart attack, and Harley moved away. Band wouldn’t sound the same without her killing it on the banjo.”
Harley Mills had been an integral part of their group of friends for the past thirty or so years, but that changed when she took off to Florida a year ago after her brother’s death. They all felt her absence. With her departure, the band had dissolved. Logan missed the music and the camaraderie, but he also knew Ty’s Collective only worked with Harley on the stage with them.
“I can be the lead singer,” Macie interjected.
“Jesus, Mace. How do you do that?” Tyson asked. “You’re in the middle of a conversation with Coop, yet you’re listening in on ours.”
Macie shrugged. “It’s not that hard. Besides, I don’t like to miss stuff. Like Mrs. Higgins over there bitching about the new sign outside the Baptist church. Let it go, Agnes.”
“I’m not bitching,” Agnes called out. “I just said it was hard to read.”
Macie ignored the woman’s outburst and pointed to TJ. “And Dad’s over there making a bet on next week’s Rangers game with Coach Carr, even though he promised my mom he wouldn’t gamble anymore.”
TJ frowned, hotly denying what everyone in the place knew was true. “I am not. And don’t be feeding your mother those stories either.”
Macie rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Logan and Tyson. “So I can be lead singer.”
Tyson shook his head vehemently. “No way. Never. Not in a million years. I’ve heard you sing, Mace. It’s bad. Really bad.”