“I’ll pay it by cookin’.”

“Sassy, ain’t you?”

She laughed out loud. “No, sir! That’s the cat.”

Chapter Eight

Jolene parked near the door of the bar on Saturday night and dug around in her purse until she found her phone. She’d programmed in Dotty’s number the night before so all she had to do was hit a button, and it started ringing.

“Please don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind or you’re not coming in tonight,” Dotty answered.

“Not at all,” Jolene said. “I’m parked right outside. Would you open the door for me?”

“I’m on my way,” she said.

Jolene slid out of the truck, tucked the phone into the hip pocket of her jeans, and slung her purse over her shoulder. Dotty was waving from the door before Jolene rounded the end of her vehicle.

“Get on in here before that wind blows you right over the bayou into Louisiana, and we know what that means.” Dotty laughed.

“It’d be tough to leave, right?”

“You got it, darlin’. My daddy loved his home state almost as much as my mama did.” Dotty followed her across the floor.

“Like my dad. He talked about Louisiana a lot,” Jolene said.

“Where’re they buried?” Dotty asked.

“Aunt Sugar, Uncle Jasper, and I scattered their ashes in the Gulf of Mexico near Panama City Beach. They’d honeymooned there, and I wanted to take them where they’d both been happy,” she answered. “Know what you do when life gives you lemons?”

“You add tequila.” Dotty snapped her fingers and did a three-second rendition of a salsa dance.

“Or throw them in the trash and make a chocolate cake,” Jolene giggled.

“Now you’re talkin’ my language. I love chocolate.” Dotty started across the floor. “From that full parking lot, it looks like we’re in for another busy night. Guess word got out that I’ve got a hot new bartender.”

“Oh, come on now.” Jolene smiled.

“It’s the truth, chère. They’re coming to try to see if you’ll go home with them.” Dotty opened the door, and the first rush began. Within five minutes all the barstools were full and the jukebox was going full blast. Jolene drew up pitchers of beer to Blake Shelton singing “Kiss My Country Ass.” Every time he sang the song title, everyone in the bar raised their glass and sang along.

“Got us a rowdy bunch tonight,” Dotty said.

“Looks like it. Where’s Bubba?” Jolene looked around the place for the bouncer from the night before.

“He called in this afternoon and quit. See that big old boy over there in the shadows by the door? That’s Mickey, and he’s promised me that he’ll stick around awhile,” Dotty answered.

Jolene glanced that way. Even though Mickey wasn’t a tall man, he threw off an aura that said he could take down one of those muscled-up television wrestlers.

“Not what you expected?” Dotty asked.

“He looks like he can do the job,” Jolene answered.

“Yep, he can.” She smiled.

“And you know this because?” Jolene wiped the bar.

“He’s got a reputation with several bars in this area for bein’ a good bouncer. Trouble is he don’t like to stay in one place very long. But I think he’s shacked up with a woman,” Dotty told her.

Jolene made a Jack and Coke for a customer. “That’s his business. Long as he keeps a little peace in here, that’s all you’re interested in, right?”

“Amen to that!” Dotty gave her a thumbs-up. “I was thinkin’ maybe Mickey might ask you out when I hired him.”

“Ha! He does kind of remind me of my first boyfriend, though. I was thirteen and he was fourteen. He gave me my first kiss. His grandma brought him with her to the inn that summer for a whole week.”

“Did Sugar know?” Dotty asked.

“Nope, I didn’t tell her,” Jolene answered.

“How old were you when you had a serious boyfriend?”

“Sixteen. Right after Daddy died, but we broke up after two months. He wanted me to drink, and even then I wouldn’t touch the stuff,” Jolene answered. “What about your first boyfriend?”

“That’s a story for later,” Dotty answered.

Another bunch of customers pushed into the bar, pausing in their conversation with the new noise. Jolene turned around to see Lucy and Flossie claiming two empty stools as soon as their occupants left and headed out the door. Lucy’s hair had been freshly done, and they both wore jeans, boots, and western shirts with pearl snaps.

“What can I get you ladies?” Jolene asked.

“Two of them things you made Flossie last night. She’s been talkin’ about them all day,” Lucy answered.

“I can’t believe you are here, Lucy,” Jolene said. “And drinking, too?”

“One drink won’t hurt me. Jesus drank wine Himself. And I need to know that Dotty is takin’ care of you proper,” Lucy said.

“Lucy admitted that she’s got a crush on the preacher who did the funeral for her last boyfriend,” Flossie tattled. “We ain’t never goin’ to shake the religion out of her this time if she sweet-talks him into her satin sheets.”