Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
He leans back in his chair. “After the party, you take back your money,” he counters.
“After the party, we’ll see how it goes, and I’ll take back ten percent.”
“You’ll take it all back.”
“Twenty percent,” I counter, and he glares at me. “Also, that look doesn’t scare me. I’m not a little girl anymore.”
He tries not to laugh at me. “No, you aren’t,” he agrees. “I can see that being back home, you’ve got your backbone back.” He nods. “Twenty percent, and if you don’t take it, I’ll fire you.”
Now, it’s my turn to laugh at him. “I think I own a third of the company.”
He pushes back and gets up from his chair. “I had an idea about how to bottle the new blend,” he tells me. “Take the bottle they used to use in the Prohibition era, and on the front, we do what they did back then, a doctor’s note.” He picks up a picture he must have found, and I see the front on the bottle.
“It looks like a script from a pharmacy.” I see that the patient’s name is on there with directions on how to take it. “This could be really cool. What if we did the theme from the twenties?” I start getting all the ideas. “You know who is going to love this?” I try not to laugh. “Brady.”
“Oh, he’s going to love this,” my father agrees. “I’m going to go and bottle a few and see how it looks.” He walks out and stops. “Love you, kiddo.”
I smile at him. “Love you too, Dad.” I watch him walk away from me with a vow that I’m going to do everything I can to make him proud of me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Charlie
I walk into the bar just after seven, and see it’s slower than usual, but it’s also a Monday. I head to the bar, seeing Brady behind it. “Hey,” I say, looking around to see if I spot her, but she isn’t here.
The bell from the kitchen rings. “You can go get that and take it back to her,” Brady suggests. “She’s in the back going over the menu for the party.”
“Okay.” I walk over to the kitchen, finding the chef there smiling at me.
“Hello, Mr. Barnes.” He nods at me. “You taking the food to Ms. Autumn?”
“I am.” I pick up the plated burger. “Can I get one also?”
“Sure thing,” he says and I walk out. It’s been two weeks since my parents have been to town. It’s also been two weeks that I’ve been at the bar every single night. I don’t think it’s a secret I’m there for Autumn, but I also haven’t come in the bar and made out with her in front of everyone. Not that I would care, but I know she would. Even though we go to bed with each other every single night, and it’s no secret when I leave her house and get home. I also don’t give a shit if anyone knows, but I want to make sure she’s ready for it. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve even helped out in the bar on nights when they’ve been slammed. Which has surprised everyone, including them. It’s like the black cloud of the Cartwrights has been lifted off them. But I also know it’s because of all the hard work Autumn has been doing to bring in new business. In fact, every single weekend their tables are full, turning them over three times. They are even talking about hiring someone.
I walk into the back and find her with her head down as she writes things on a paper. “Knock, knock, knock,” I say. She glances up at me and looks exhausted. “Brought you food.” She’s been working every single day for the past two weeks. Starting as early as I walk out of the house and finishing sometimes after midnight. Every single night we fall into bed with each other, and no matter what time I try to wake up before the alarm, I never do, and even when I do, she always wakes up when I get out of bed.
She smiles. “Thank you,” she says as I walk around the desk and put the plate at the edge of the desk before leaning down and kissing her lips. “Hi,” she murmurs softly when I let her go. “Is it busy out there?” She motions with her chin toward the door.
“Nah,” I reply, “about six tables. I think he has it covered. Eat.” I point at the plate as she takes up a french fry and dips it in ketchup. “Are you almost done?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I never thought this party would be as big as it is,” she admits, taking a bite of her burger and then offering it to me for me to take a bite of it. I shake my head, knowing that this is probably the only thing she’s eaten today. “When I brought this up,” she says, “I thought maybe thirty people.”