Chapter 1
“Hey, Perrin, I’ve been waitin’ on that beer for over—”
Perrin cracked open a bottle of bud and slid it across the counter to Mac, one of the more restless locals. “I know,” she said patiently, eyes on her regular while mixing a pitcher of sugar-free mojitos for the group of female tourists that just sauntered in. “Cut me a little slack. Singles Week is kicking my ass.”
Jasper Falls used to be just an average, nameless, small town lost in the middle of Center County. Since the new mayor got elected, the town’s been really revamping itself.
Singles Week was just one of the new events Jasper Falls was running—part of the town’s revitalization project. It was great for local business owners like herself, but small-town folk generally preferred to move at a slower pace, which tourists did not, especially the New York ones.
“Sorry, sweetie.” Mac plugged up his mouth with his beer and leered at the group of long-legged blondes. “Women certainly didn’t look like that when I was shoppin’ for a wife.”
Perrin tsked and shot him a disapproving look. “Stop that. Nadine’s a catch.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “The kind you throw back.”
Topping off the pitcher with a shot of simple syrup and another handful of fresh mint from the farmers’ market, she shook her head. “You’re rotten. Someone should throw you back.”
“Hey,” he called, just as she lifted the tray of mojitos and glasses. “How come you ain’t signed up for those singles events?”
Perrin’s lips pressed in a tight-lipped purse as she shot him a sidelong glance. “You know perfectly well why. I don’t date.”
He shook his head and sipped his beer. “You’re wastin’ your youth, missy.”
“Better to waste my youth than to waste my time.” Before he could offer another unwanted comment, she carried the tray over to the blondes.
O’Malley’s was packed with the typical Friday night crowd. Each weekend the crowd increased, which was great for business, however not so great for Perrin’s poor aching feet. It was long past the time to hire another waitress, but Perrin didn’t want to spare the expense, despite what her sister Maggie had to say about it.
“Here you go, ladies. Can I get you anything else?”
She pulled a notepad out of her apron pocket when one woman asked, “Are your salads farm to table?”
Perrin grit her molars and grinned. “Actually, all our produce is locally farmed.” Thank goodness for Ashlynn and her farmers’ market. The more New Yorkers they got, the more she was getting these sorts of questions. Next would be the bread.
“It says your salad comes with a dinner roll. Is it gluten-free?”
“We have handcrafted breads with an almond flour option,” thanks to Maggie’s amazing mother-in-law.
Once Perrin answered several more questions about the menu and if the lettuce could be substituted with kale, she finally had an order together. Sue was going to kill her.
She walked the order to the kitchen, catching six more drink orders on the way. “Sue, I need some salads.” Sticking the slip on the order rack, she quickly slipped out the back.
“What the fuck, Perrin!” Sue bolted out of the kitchen. “These aren’t on the menu”
Perrin smiled and uncapped two light beers. “Everything’s on the menu. We’re adapting.”
“Well, we need an actual cook! And do we even have kale?”
Luckily, she just bought some that morning. “In the back. Check the bottom crisper.”
She returned to the kitchen grumbling something about bullshit hipsters and their high maintenance diets. Sue was O’Malley’s senior bartender—came with the purchase of the bar, sort of like the dusty old pool tables and vinyl stools, when they bought the place last year. She was great at bartending, passable at cooking, but best as a waitress. Unfortunately, they were understaffed in all three areas, so Sue was a constant fill in.
“Here you are, boys.” Perrin dropped the two beers off at a high-top and worked her way through the crowd, zigzagging between the bar and tables for the next few hours.
By the end of the night, she’d have well over twenty-five thousand steps on her pedometer, blisters on her toes, and sweat stains on her clothes, but it was worth it. She finally got her sister to agree to expand the bar—if Perrin could figure out a way to scrape together the down payment.
The land behind the bar had been listed for about six months. They needed twenty thousand down, if they wanted to get approved for financing. They had the bar as collateral and, luckily, the bank still loved supporting local merchants. She was crossing her fingers that was enough to get them approved, even when they were offering sixty thousand less than the asking price. Perrin was pretty sure she’d do anything short of giving up both her kidneys to own the property.
Lots of ifs. But buying O’Malley’s with Maggie had been one of the greatest investment risks of her life, and it’s been paying off ever since. Jasper Falls was rising as one of Pennsylvania’s greatest small towns. O’Malley’s used to be the only night spot—just the average hole-in-the-wall Irish pub, but now, with all the revitalization projects and new restaurants cropping up, they had some competition.