The Grub was warm the second they stepped inside. It was like walking into a hug that smelled like barbecue sauce, cedarwood, and slow-roasted heaven. The baby dozed peacefully in the carrier as Fish led him through a crowd of cheerful regulars and toward the bar.
“Jed!” Fish called. “Got a soldier here in need of brisket.”
Behind the counter, a burly man with forearms like tree trunks and a sly grin looked up from garnishing a plate with something green and artistic.
“Welcome to Grits & Grub.”
“Paul Winters, meet Jed Winchester,” Fish said. “World-famous chef. Also known as Jami Chou’s other half.”
Paul’s eyes widened. “Jami Chou? As in the food critic?”
Jed smirked. “Was. Now she’s the boss around here. I just make what she tells me.”
“I’ve read her stuff for years,” Paul said, a little stunned. “She’s brilliant.”
“That's why I married her. Want to taste her food?”
Paul nodded, settling into a seat.
Fish leaned closer with a grin. “You might have noticed this town has a few Chous in it, and most of them cook. Jami cooks here at Jed's. Jules, my wife, runs the sugar free bakery. I know that sounds like an oxymoron.”
“The sugar free bakery? Or the your wife part?”
Fish smirked and went on. “Jacqui is head chef at Chow Town. I worked there for a couple of years before managing to get a ring on Jules' finger.”
“Is that all?” Paul asked hesitantly. “That all the Chou women who cook?”
“Bunny Chou makes a mean tea. Her baby sister Kitten is a painter. And then there's Birdy who…”
Paul stiffened slightly. Fish didn’t miss it.
“You met Birdy, huh?”
“We had a... conversation,” Paul said carefully.
Fish let out a low whistle. “Man, I hope you were wearing protective gear.”
“Not exactly. “
Fish chuckled and took a sip of the beer the bartender set in front of him. “She’s tough, yeah, but she’s solid. Has to be. Half the women in town owe her their peace of mind.”
“You talking about Birdy?” Jed walked past again, balancing a tray. “That woman would take a bat to your front door if it meant protecting a client. She’s scary—but the good kind.”
Paul looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be smiling. At ease. The kind of small-town comfort that wrapped around your shoulders like a blanket. And it would appear the Chous had a lot to do with that. Including Birdy.
CHAPTERNINE
Outside the frosted window, the snow had slowed to a gentle drift, flakes settling softly like secrets too heavy to stay in the sky. Inside, the silence buzzed like static in her ears.
Birdy sat behind her desk, her back straight, shoulders locked into the kind of posture that said,You will not break me. But the screen in front of her was doing its best to try. Her laptop still sat open to the chat window.
The strong don’t show up to be heroes. They show up because someone has to.
She hadn’t closedthe browser. She couldn’t. It was like some part of her still clung to the idea that he might reappear, that the words on the screen could overwrite what he’d said—what he really thought of her.
You can’t be her.
The words echoed like footsteps down a long, empty hallway in her chest. She’d heard variations of that her whole life, hadn’t she? Too much. Too blunt. Too smart. Too sharp.
