“They are. You’ll find someone.”
“I’m not so sure. I can’t blame my lack of love life on the man shortage here. Not entirely. I didn’t date when I was away at college, either.” She shrugged. “I haven’t told anyone, Mom. I’ll talk to Nevada and Montana in a few days. If you wouldn’t mind, I thought you could tell my brothers after that.” Denise would explain what had happened in simple terms, and it would be a whole lot less embarrassing than coming from her.
Her mother nodded. Once her sisters knew, they would want to rally, but there wasn’t anything to do. Her body was different. Most of the time she was okay with that.
“You’re still on the list to get a baby from Kazakhstan?” her mother asked.
“Yes. Eventually I should get a call. I’m staying positive.”
“That’s important. I know you don’t love working on the reality show, but it’s a nice distraction.”
“It’s beyond crazy. What were they thinking? Mayor Marsha is terrified something bad is going to happen. You know how she loves the town.”
“We all do,” Denise said absently. She frowned slightly. “Just because you haven’t fallen in love yet doesn’t mean you’re not going to. Loving someone and being loved is a gift. Relax and it will happen.”
Dakota hoped she was right. She leaned toward her mother. “You got really lucky with dad. Maybe it’s a genetic thing, like being a good singer.”
Her mother grinned. “Meaning I should start dating again? Oh, please. I’m too old.”
“Hardly.”
“It’s an interesting idea, but not for today.” She rose and walked toward the refrigerator. “Now, what can I fix you to eat? A BLT? I think I have some frozen quiche, too.”
Dakota thought about pointing out that this wasn’t a problem that could be fixed by food. Not that her mother would listen. Denise was nothing, if not traditional.
“A BLT would be nice,” she said, knowing it wasn’t the sandwich that would make her feel better, but the love that went into it.
DAKOTA WAS MEETING her sisters at Jo’s Bar. She arrived a little early—mostly because her house had gotten too quiet, with only her thoughts to keep her company.
She crossed to the bar, prepared to order a lemondrop martini, only to realize that Finn Andersson was standing in the center of the room, looking more than a little confused.
Poor guy, she thought as she walked toward him. Jo’s Bar wasn’t the usual kind of hangout where a man went at the end of a difficult day.
Until very recently, most of the businesses in Fool’s Gold were owned by and catered to women. Including everyone’s favorite bar.
Jo was a pretty woman in her thirties. She’d moved to town a few years ago, bought the bar and converted it into the kind of place where women felt comfortable. The lighting was flattering, the bar stools had backs and hooks for hanging purses, and the big-screen TVs were tuned to Project Runway and pretty much anything on HGTV. Music always played. Tonight it was ‘80s rock.
The men had their place—it was a small room in back with a pool table. But without preparation, Jo’s Bar could be shocking to the average male.
“It’s okay,” Dakota said, coming up behind Finn and leading him to the bar. “You’ll get used to it.”
He shook his head as if trying to clear his vision. “Are those walls pink?”
“Mauve,” she told him. “A very flattering color.”
“It’s a bar.” He looked around. “I thought it was a bar.”
“We do things a little differently here in Fool’s Gold,” she told him. “This is a bar that mainly caters to women. Although men are always welcome. Come on. Have a seat. I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Is it going to have an umbrella in it?”
She laughed. “Jo doesn’t believe in putting umbrellas in drinks.”
“I guess that’s something.”
He followed her to the bar and took a seat. The padded stool seemed a bit small for his large frame, but he didn’t complain.
“This is the craziest place I’ve ever been,” he admitted, glancing at her.
“We’re unique. You heard about the man shortage, right?”
“The very piece of information that brought my brothers to town.”
“A lot of jobs traditionally held by men are held by women here. Nearly all the firefighters, most of the police, the police chief and, of course, the mayor.”
“Interesting.”
Jo walked over. “What’ll you have?”
The words were right, Dakota thought, telling herself not to blush, but Jo’s look of speculation promised many questions to come.
“I’m meeting my sisters,” Dakota said quickly. “I rescued Finn. It’s his first time in.”
“We generally serve your kind in the back,” Jo told him. “But because you’re with Dakota, you can stay here.”
Finn frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
Jo grinned. “Not the brightest bulb. Too bad.” She turned to Dakota. “Your usual?”
“Please.”
Jo strolled away.
Finn glanced at Dakota. “She’s not going to serve me?”
“She’s bringing you a beer.”
“What if I don’t want a beer?”
“Do you?”
“Sure, but …” He shook his head again.
Dakota held in a laugh. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry. Jo’s a sweetie. She just likes messing with people.”
“You mean men. She likes messing with men.”
“Everyone needs a hobby. So how are things? Have you convinced your brothers to leave?”
His expression tightened. “No. They’re determined. Solidarity in numbers and all that.”
“I’m sorry things aren’t working out, but I’m not surprised. You’re right about the solidarity thing. I’m a triplet and my sisters and I always protected each other.” She thought about the conversation she was going to have with them later. “We still do.”
“Identical triplets?”
“Uh-huh. It was fun when we were younger. Now it’s less thrilling to be mistaken for someone else. We try to look as different as possible.” She tilted her head. “Now that I think about it, looking different has gotten easier as we’ve gotten older and started developing our own style.” She glanced down at the blue sweater she’d pulled over jeans. “Assuming we have something close to style.”
Jo appeared with her lemondrop and a beer. She set down the drinks, winked at Finn, then walked away.
“I’m going to ignore her,” Finn muttered.
“Probably for the best.” Dakota took a sip of her drink. “What happens now? If your brothers are staying, are you going back to Alaska?”
“No. I talked to Geoff.” He took a drink of his beer. “I threatened him, he threatened me back.”
“And you’re taking a house together on the shore?”
“Not exactly.