Page 108 of A Real Goode Time

Pop? That was cozy.

I widened my eyes at Poppy, because he had a sexy accent, too? I mean, come on.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” I said to Errol, “although I can’t say I’ve heard anything about you other than that you were coming with Poppy to the wedding.”

“Yeah, we’re kind of new at whatever this is, so she’s playing it kinda close to the vest, if you know what I mean.”

I nodded. “I do. My own we’re-not-sure-what-we-are situation just went back to Connecticut yesterday, so I’m still sort of reeling from that myself.”

Poppy rubbed my arm. “I talked to Mom yesterday to fill her in on our ETA, and she said your…whatever…Rhys? Is that right? Went back to New Haven and you’re sort of broken up over it, so be gentle.”

I laughed. “Being gentle would have been her letting me fill you on it myself, but it’s good to know Mom hasn’t changedthatmuch. She wouldn’t be Mom if she didn’t meddle and interfere with the best possible motives.”

Poppy tilted her head. “What do you mean, Mom hasn’t changedthatmuch? How much has she changed, and how?”

I laughed. “Oh, just wait. You’ll see.”

“That’s ominous.”

I shook my head, still laughing. “It’s not ominous. She’s just…a new and improved Mom, shall we say. Different, but good. It just takes some getting used to.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wouldn’t do any good to tell you. Just brace yourself. Things here in Alaska are…pretty crazy.”

Poppy, Errol, and I walked together back to the bar.

“Mom said something about a trip somewhere?” Poppy said, as we entered the bar.

“Yeah, to LA, on a private jet. Lexie’s fiancé is springing for us to get makeovers by a Hollywood A-list glam squad, two days at a spa resort, and dresses by some Italian designer, tailored for each of us.”

Poppy’s eyes widened. “I know he’s, like, Myles North, but…really?”

“Apparently.”

“Have you met him? What’s he like?”

Before I could answer that question I saw a man behind the bar—one of the Badd men, although I was still figuring out who was who; what with all the testosterone and badassery and insane looks, it was hard keeping them straight. I think this one was the former SEAL. His name started with a Z, I think.

He smiled at us as we sat at the bar. “Hey, all. Torie, you I know. You two are new, which means you’re Mama Livvie’s youngest, Poppy, and her friend.” He extended his hand, and they both shook it. “I’m Zane, one of the owners.”

“I’m Poppy,” my sister affirmed. “And this is Errol.”

Errol greeted Zane, and then the burly bartender slapped his palms on the bar. “Well, we’re closed to the public for the day, which means I’m allowed to assume you’re all twenty-one.”

Errol raised his hand. “I mean, I’m actually twenty-four.”

Poppy assumed an innocent expression. “I have a licensesayingI’m twenty-one.”

I glared at her. “You do not.”

She shrugged. “A friend of friend is a professional forger for some mysterious organization. It’s all very hush-hush, and I had to pose in some rather risqué outfits for his personal collection.”

I stared at her. “I feel like I may have missed some things about your life in New York.”

“Our girl is quite the adventurous type, Pop is,” Errol said. “When I met her, she was hitchhiking on the highway in the middle of Missouri.”

I frowned at her. “You’re a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl hitchhiking down a rural freeway?” Kettle, meet Pot, I know, but still.