Excerpt from Those Pink Mountain Nights by Jen Ferguson, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Cam cracked himself up. Out loud.

And Berlin, standing by the dish sink as if Jessie needed supervision taking her parka off, fired him a look. Even after months, working side by side, she hadn't warmed. Not a degree. Why Cam thought working together would change things, he couldn't figure. Because he'd known her forever. The lore between their families was that he'd been present at her birth, strapped to his mom's frontside in one of those baby-wrap getups.

"Yeah, don't mind the dirty aprons," Berlin said as Jessie tried and failed to find a cleanish one. "Tonight, after close, you and I will throw on a load. It's not our task, but we'll get it done."

"I can start one now," Cam offered. "I'm hydrated so break's done."

Berlin blew air out of her mouth noisily. "Cameron," she scoffed.

"We might as well do things right, wash everything at once. Instead of half finishing the job."

"Only offering, Bee." She was so stiff—about everything. He threw up his hands. "But we'll do things your way."

"It's not my way. It's just the right way." Berlin was like a flight attendant doing the safety demo who really believed a seat belt would do its job if the plane got into real trouble at thirty thousand feet. "Clock in here. Be sure to remember to do it at the start of every shift. It's key to getting paid."

Yet even in the dirty apron, she somehow seemed put together. Maybe she didn't ever unclench. Maybe she couldn't. Some things were beyond a person's ability. Cam had his troubles, sure. But at least he could laugh.

Her mom was all hard work, but sunshine too. The perfect pediatrician. Sami loved appointments with Dr. Chambers, loved running into Dr. Chambers at the grocery store, or pulling up next to her Prius at a stoplight—and generally, Sami didn't think much of doctors, what with them poking her, measuring her, telling her what she supposedly couldn't do because of an extra chromosome. Dr. Chambers only ever encouraged Sami, had even gotten her started with sign language. Berlin's dad, the other Dr. Chambers, was real smart, too, in that super-intimidating way. But he also belted out tradish folk songs while gliding along the cross-country trails.

Berlin was, as far as Cam could tell, all work.

No play.

She was a dull, tiny, curvy human with a ponytail sticking out of her PMP ball cap, her bangs swept to the side and crushed.

She stressed him out. By breathing. By the no-nonsense way she wore those glasses when another person would have been wearing them to cosplay sexy librarian. Pushing off the prep table, Cam abandoned his empty Coke can. He rushed to the front of the shop.

Hoped it hadn't looked like he was trying to beat her.

It was the small things. Tâpwe.

A few emptied inserts were stacked by the handwashing station. Pizza pans hung out on the bottom track of the oven. Cam wasn't the kind who did dishes while making dinner. Tuning out Bee's detailed instructions on how to answer a phone like it was rocket science, he grabbed the neon chalk and, checking the notes on his phone to be as sure as he could to transcribe it all without mistakes, in his best hand, he started with the twenty-four-hour special.

Pizza of the Day:
The Pupperoni
Saltwater crust, our homemade heirloom tomato sauce,
crafted charcuterie* uncured pepperoni, fresh mozzarella
rounds. Each large Pupperoni comes with a small bone-shaped
pie for your pup(s). 32
 
* DO NOT write shark coochie—last time, nobody thought
that was funny.

He appreciated his own jokes. Cam's sisters thought he was a riot. His mom too. His dad used to laugh the hardest, before—

The Before place was too rocky. Cam pulled himself back to the now.

Tonight, locals would eat this up and tourists wouldn't be able to hold back either. A pizza for the fam and one for the pupper. Or the kids. It was pure brilliance. And as this was Cam's brainchild, he'd earn an extra $3.50 per sale, on top of the already fair hourly wage Joe paid.

Excerpted from Those Pink Mountain Nights by Niall Ferguson. Copyright © 2023 by Niall Ferguson. Excerpted by permission of Heartdrum. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.