Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)

by Elsie Silver

One who starts pulling up a stool every Sunday through Tuesday to drink chamomile tea until midnight, so I don’t have to close by myself.

And then I head straight for where the best part of my day always is. The place that I’ve come to associate with both peace and purpose. The stool at the end of Bailey Jansen’s bar.

“Remove your fucking hand. Or I’ll do it for you.” Beau’s voice is lower than usual, quieter. More menacing.