A round of cheers went up and my mouth dropped open in shock.

Max gave me a wink. “Come on over, and we’ll start passin’ ’em out.”

“Why would you do that, Max?” I asked quietly as I followed him behind the bar.

He grabbed a mug and started filling it up with the beer on tap. “Had to get ’em all in a good mood,” he said, then lowered his voice. “Some of ’em are partial to Lula. She’s a pretty little thing and sweet as honey. They might not be too happy with you for fillin’ in for her.”

I was starting to understand why Max put up with Lula’s antics.

“In any case, they’re gettin’ free drinks because you’re here, which will make them happy,” he said, handing me the first mug. “You’ll get better tips now.”

I stared at him in surprise. The cynical part of me might have accused him of wanting to maximize his own share of the tips, but Ruth had told me that he never took his share. He only asked that we share ten percent with Tiny and whoever was helping him—either a man named Samson or a woman named Bitty, a nickname Tiny had given her that had stuck. Ruth said she couldn’t even remember her real name. Samson’s name was supposedly legit, and while he was working tonight, I had yet to get a good look at him.

When I had a tray full of mugs, I carried them over and started handing them out. Ruth was busy with another table, but she shot me a wink and mouthed, You’ve got this.

I knew what she was up to. She was giving me a chance to butter up the crowd.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” I asked with a huge smile, letting my Texas drawl slip in.

“Doin’ great, little miss,” one of the men said, and while I wondered at his choice of words, he seemed innocent enough. He was old enough to be my grandfather and he had a friendly face. “Whereabouts you from?” he said as he took a full mug from me. “Because I know every pretty girl on this side of the mountain, and I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Georgia,” I said, forcing a smile to remain plastered on my face while my heart hammered against my rib cage. The old me had been born and bred in Texas. The new me was from Michigan and had moved to Atlanta after high school.

“Georgia,” his friend next to him spat in disgust.

But a man at the next table perked up at the mention, keeping his gaze on me.

I placed a mug of beer in front of the Georgia-hater and winked. “Obviously, I learned the error of my ways. I’m here in Tennessee now, aren’t I?”

The table let out an uproarious wave of laughter. I glanced up at the bar and saw Max pulling the tap as he filled a mug, but the approval on his face let me know he was pleased. A happy boss was a good thing. I hoped I could keep it up.

I took the tray to the table with the man who’d perked up at the mention of me being from Georgia.

“Y’all from around here?” I asked.

Four men sat at the table and two of them snickered. “Honey, we’re all from around here.”

I cast a glance at the sandy-brown-haired guy. “You got family in Georgia, then?”

He stared up at me in surprise and confusion.

“I just noticed you took interest when I mentioned my home state is all. Was looking for a fellow Georgian.”

The guys at the table turned to the man with perplexed expressions.

“You got kin down in Georgia, Dewey?” one of his friends asked. “How come this is the first I’ve heard of it?”

Dewey shot me a glance that suggested I was an imbecile. “Not me. Looks like Sweet Thing here is anglin’ for more tips.”

He was lying. He’d been interested, and his denial only made me nervous.

I cocked my head to the side and gave him a beaming smile. “Just tryin’ to be friendly. It’s not always easy bein’ the new girl.”

“We’ll make you feel welcome, Carly,” a man at the next table said.

I nodded in acknowledgement but kept Dewey in my sights. “Nice meetin’ you, gentlemen. I’m sure I’ll see plenty more of you before the night is through.”

I passed out the rest of the free beers, meeting all thirty or so men. Most of them were friendly, although a few asked me when Lula would be back. I assured them I wasn’t out to steal her job. One man sat by himself in the corner, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. He looked to be about sixty and was so rail-thin I suspected he’d blow away in a strong wind. I could tell that he’d gone a few rounds in life and hadn’t ended up winning any of them. My heart went out to him, so I respected his space and left the beer in front of him.

Once I’d passed out the free drinks, Ruth pulled me over and gave me a beaming smile. “You’re doin’ great.”

“Thanks.” But how hard was it to give away free alcohol? The real test of whether my waitressing skills were still intact would come once I started taking food orders.

“I see you met Jerry.”

I gave her a blank look.

“Jerry”—she nodded toward the door—“The odd duck in the corner. He rents one of Max’s rooms across the street. He keeps mostly to himself, barely talkin’ to anyone, but he likes to hang out here on Monday nights. Most of the guys leave ’im be, but every so often one of ’em gives him a hard time. Max doesn’t tolerate that shit and will kick ’em out quicker than lickety-split, so if you see anyone botherin’ him, you let us know.”

I nodded, casting a glance at him. Jerry had a quarter in his hand that he tapped on the table while staring at his beer. His gray hair hung over his ears, though the length looked like less of a style choice and more of a lack of maintenance.

Ruth leaned in closer. “His wife died about five years ago. Her income paid the mortgage and Jerry lost his home. Max put him up in number one at the Alpine Inn. He says Jerry lives on social security, but it ain’t a lot, so I don’t think Max charges him much to stay there. We always slip him meals and tell him that Bitty or Samson screwed up an order in the kitchen, otherwise he won’t take it. He’s strange, but he’s harmless.”

If I was looking for proof Max, Ruth, and Tiny were good people, this was surely it. They reminded me of the friends I’d left behind in Arkansas, and I let my guard down a tiny bit. “I’ll look out for him. I haven’t seen him eat since he got here an hour ago. I’ll make sure he gets something soon.”

Ruth smiled. “I knew you had a good heart.”

Her compliment made me smile. “Thanks.”

I started taking food orders, and when I took them to the back, I told Tiny that Jerry was in my section.

He nodded and gave me a warm grin. “I’ll have something up for him soon.”

The median age of the Monday Night Football crowd was around fifty or sixty, which made sense given what Wyatt had told me. If the town had run on tourism and all the visitors had stopped coming, most of the younger guys had probably moved away to find jobs.

At a certain point in the evening, there was enough of a lull that Ruth and I retreated behind the counter with Max for a momentary break. I’d decided my waitressing skills were mostly still intact, but before I could say as much to Ruth, I heard a dull roar of engines outside.

She shot me a look with raised eyebrows. “Now the real action starts.”