Free For the Love of a Lush (Lush No. 2) by Selena Laurence

it even.
    I walk into the kitchen and find Leanne standing at the stove while a dark-complexioned man in a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt, and Wranglers stands behind her, arms around her waist, whispering in her ear. It’s intimate, and I stop in the doorway, unsure whether to back right out or do something noisy so they know I’m there. Just as I turn around to tiptoe away, Leanne’s head jerks up and she swats at the man, who backs up, chuckling.
    "Hi, Tammy. Come on in. This one here was just trying to sweet talk his way into an early serving of stew. But he knows I’m not going to give it to him."
    "She’s hard as nails, my woman," the guy says, smiling as he puts his hand out to me. "Ronny Silva, and you’re definitely Tammy."
    I shake his hand, which is warm and rough in that way men’s hands are when they do work in their yards and their houses—or I suppose on ranches as well.
    "No one’s ever called me possibly Tammy, so I guess so." I smile at him because he’s got such a handsome, open face it’s hard not to.
    "I’m Walsh’s sponsor," he says as he motions for me to sit at the kitchen table.
    Leanne appears with the coffee pot and pours us each a cup before she sits down too. Ronny reaches over and places his hand on hers while he talks to me. It’s such an unconscious gesture that I nearly cry from remembering what it felt like to be that in sync with another person—with Walsh.
    "I might have heard a thing or two about you over the last six months." Ronny reaches for his coffee cup with his free hand and takes a sip.
    I cringe on the inside and probably grimace on the outside. "That can’t have given you a very positive impression of me."
    "Well, luckily for you, I don’t form impressions of people unless I’ve met them myself. And a girl as pretty as you will have a hard time creating a bad impression with this old man." He winks at me, and Leanne rolls her eyes.
    "Stop flirting with the waitstaff," she chides.
    He scoffs. "She ain’t the waitstaff any more than you’re the cook. But I do want to know how she’s going to fix things with my boy."
    Just like that, the friendly banter is over, and Ronny looks at me over the rim of his coffee cup, one eyebrow cocked.
    I fidget a bit in my chair, the jeans and t-shirt I’m wearing now seems far too thin to protect me from the eagle-eyed gaze that’s wandering over my face.
    "Ronny," Leanne admonishes. "Sponsor or not, their relationship is their business."
    "Oh?" he asks, turning his sharp look on his wife. "Is that why you hired her to work here? Found her a place to live in town? Made sure she had a way to stay while she breaks down Walsh’s resistance?"
    Oh shit.
    Leanne’s chin tips up and a fire enters her eyes. I can see how this small woman handled having a bingeing alcoholic for a husband as well as how she handles all of the recovering men who come through her doors every day now.
    "I gave her an opportunity to recover her life the exact same way you give all these men an opportunity to recover theirs. I don’t pry into what that recovery process looks like. That’s her business."
    "All right, querida . All right," he says, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "I wasn’t trying to rile you up." He turns to me. "I just wanted you to know that he’s been working hard, and he’s got what it takes to make it. Not everyone does. Just go easy on him, huh? I know you’re both hurting. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt more on my watch."
    I nod, respecting his concern for Walsh even if it makes me feel a little like the Wicked Witch of Portland.
    Leanne waves a dishtowel at him. "Get out of my kitchen now or there won’t be any lunch for your men."
    "I’m going, I’m going." He laughs as he leans in before she can stop him and gives her a hard kiss on the lips.
    I see her body sort of soften for a moment, the way my heart always does when Walsh kisses me—the way it used to when Walsh kissed me. Ronny tips his hat at