“I’ll have a shot of Wild Turkey, please, Tucker,” Suzanne said, sitting herself down on a barstool. She’d sworn she’d never drink bourbon after her boozy night with Grady, but she’d developed a bit of a taste for it, and the man was safely out of reach.

Tucker quirked an eyebrow at her harried request but just said, “Coming right up.” By the time her parents sat down, one on either side, he’d placed her bourbon on the bar. As tempting as it was to throw it back, Suzanne picked it up and took a sip before she introduced her parents.

“Pleased to meet you,” Tucker said to her father before turning to her mom.

Simone St. Michelle smiled at Tucker in that way she did, super-sexy and über-confident, and he blinked. Her mom may be in her late fifties, but she liked to flirt. For as long as Suzanne could remember, men had been falling under her spell, and Tucker, a good-looking guy probably twenty-five years her junior, was no exception.

Her mother’s work was highly sexual, highly eroticized, and she’d told Suzanne when she was fourteen that a good artist was always aware of sexual discourse between people because how art appealed to people sexually was what made it come to life. Suzanne wasn’t sure she believed the sentiment, which probably explained why her paintings were lifeless and her mother was a lauded sculptress. Also why her mom got along so well with Winona and why charming men was as natural to her as breathing.

Even if that superpower seemed to have gone awry somehow with her husband.

“Hi, Tucker.” She smiled. “What a great name—it really suits you. Can you point me to the restrooms, please?”

Tucker blinked again and pointed to his left. “That way.” On the wall, a sign with an arrow indicated the direction.

“Thank you,” she said and smiled again before heading off.

Tucker seemed a little bewildered as he asked Albie, “Can I get you something to drink?”

Her father ordered a beer, and Tucker delivered it promptly before pushing off to serve a couple of older guys and a young woman who had arrived at the bar. Suzanne seized the moment to talk to her dad one-on-one.

“What’s going on with you and Mom?”

She dived straight in—there was no time for subtleties right now. She half expected her father to deny anything was wrong. He was the everything’s-going-to-be-all-right parent. So it was quite shocking to hear him sigh heavily and say, “I don’t know, Suzanne.”

“She said you two might be…breaking up.”

Even more shockingly, her father nodded. “Yes. Maybe…”

Suzanne threw back the rest of her bourbon, welcoming the burn. “But why? What happened?”

He shrugged. “She doesn’t see me anymore but she’s perfectly happy to flirt with other men.” He lifted his chin in Tucker’s direction.