Page 65 of Moonshine Kiss
“Sure,” I said, sliding in so she could take a seat.
June folded her menu neatly and slid it to the edge of the booth. “I spoke to the landlord yesterday. She came down another hundred dollars on the rent,” she told Leah Mae.
“That’s great! When do we sign?” Leah Mae asked.
“I’m holding out for another hundred. Cheaper rent gives you more breathing room on your profit and loss,” June said.
June was partnering with Leah Mae on her clothing boutique. Leah Mae was bringing the creativity and the products. June was bringing the cash and the negotiating skills.
Leah Mae blew out a nervous breath. “Do you think she’ll drop it again? I think I can swing the rent as is.”
“We’ll hold out,” June said firmly.
“No one knows business in this town better than June,” I promised Leah Mae. “You’ll get your cheaper rent and be open before you know it.”
She chewed on her lip. “Okay. Okay. Ooh. Meatball sub!”
“Ugh,” June grumbled.
“Don’t you like meatball subs?” Leah Mae asked.
“Don’t get her started,” I begged. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“How about the fact that you’re dating Bowie Bodine?” Leah Mae suggested, brightening.
“Let’s go back to the meatball sub,” I suggested.
“You and Bowie?” June asked.
“We’re not dating. We had a moment and now I’m furious with him and never forgiving him,” I explained lamely.
“I’d like to hear about this moment,” Leah Mae prodded.
“I’d like to hear solutions on how to get rid of a man that I don’t want to date.”
“I’d like to know why there aren’t any turkey sandwiches on special today,” June muttered.
“You look stressed,” Leah Mae said to me.
“I feel like I’m five seconds away from losing my damn mind,” I confessed.
“You know what you need?” Leah Mae asked.
“A turkey sandwich?” June suggested.
I picked up my menu and smacked June on the head with it.
“Girls Night Out,” Leah Mae said.
32
Cassidy
Iwas absolutely crazy for being here, I decided, easing down the drive to the rambling, cedar-shingled house on the lake’s edge. Yes siree. I’d done gone and lost all my marbles. I was mad at my dad, pissed off at Bowie, annoyed with my sister, and the only thing I could control was work.
I’d been on patrol, cruising through Bootleg, hoping that I could get some air and settle my thoughts. And get away from those damn pastries.
When I’d swung down Speakeasy Drive to look in on some of the bigger lake estates and spotted a car in the Kendalls’ driveway, I’d pulled right on in.
