were with me.”
“How fascinating.” Elli leaned on her hand and waited for more.
Lou wagged her finger in the air. “Uh-huh. You owe me a story first. You’re visiting alone. What’s the deal? Need a quiet place to write your novel?”
“Not exactly.” For the last several years, Elli had repeated a scripted, “We’re doing well. Keeping busy. Everything’s going great.” to anyone who would ask of her and Neil. Now was her chance to be honest, to say what she wanted instead of what was expected. “I lived with my boyfriend in Michigan. We split, and I moved home to Illinois a few months ago. I love my parents, but I needed a break to figure out who I am without them. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but they can be…”
“Parents,” Lou finished. “I know what you mean. After my divorce, I opted to keep the lake house. My ex moved to Virginia with his new girlfriend. My parents were visiting and checking up on me every two minutes at first. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to rely on myself for a change, you know?”
“Yes.” Elli pointed at Lou in confirmation. “That’s exactly it. Here I am trying to be independent and two, admittedly decent, guys swoop in to save me. I don’t want to be saved.”
“Aw, hon, sure you do.” Lou smiled, her cheeks lifting. She was pretty with her wavy hair and her tanned skin, and mostly with her generous, open personality. Hashtag goals. “We say we don’t want to be saved, but what we mean is we want to be respected. It’s rare to find chivalry.”
“Chivalry can also be code for a guy poking around for a weak spot,” Elli mumbled against the rim of your glass.
“Did a number on you, your ex, didn’t he?” Lou asked gently.
Elliott set her glass down and pulled in a deep breath. “Nothing I can’t come back from, but since we’ve been apart, I keep uncovering layers upon layers of crap I have to deal with.”
“Relate.” Lou raised her glass, and they both drank to that.
From that topic, they moved to lighter talk of great places to eat and shop in Evergreen Cove. Lou pointed out some of the locals in the restaurant and gave Elli the rundown on who they were and where they worked.
They ordered a second beer apiece and a huge plate of nachos to soak up the beer, and then Lou was off to the restroom, leaving Elli at the bar by herself.
Typically, she’d be tempted to bury her attention in her phone, but she was too intrigued by the cast of characters in Salty Dog. Including the guy two stools down, who’d been drinking steadily since she and Lou arrived. He looked utterly miserable hovering over a glass of beer and a shot of whiskey. Elli felt for him. He ordered a refill, but the bartender shook his head.
“Sorry, Patrick,” the bartender answered, leaning on the bar top and showing off impressive tattoos tracking up his left arm. His trimmed beard was neat, his voice gruff and firm. “I’m not serving you anything else. For your sake, man. You won’t want to be you in the morning if you drink another.”
“Gimme a break, Xavier,” Patrick slurred. He finished his glass of beer and slammed it down. “Refill that, too.”
Xavier shook his head. “Not happening, man. I’ll buy you a cheeseburger and a coffee, though.”
“Fuck you,” Patrick snapped. Voices quieted in the bar. Next, he iced Elli with a glare, and she decided to check her phone after all. The drama between this guy and the bartender was none of her business. She’d come here to fix her problems, not invite new ones.
She was digging through her purse when she sensed another presence and looked up.
A navy blue policeman’s uniform blocked her view of Patrick. The cop’s shirt stretched over a muscular back and his hair was neatly combed back. His arms were at his sides, thumbs hooked into his belt. She admired his muscular forearms and the pale hair covering them.
Hot-cop alert.
The cop told Patrick he didn’t want trouble, which was so cliché that Elli had to smile. Then he asked if Patrick’s brother was around, and Patrick’s arm appeared from behind the cop to point across the room.
Out of curiosity, she looked that direction, too. She spotted Lou at a far-off table laughing with a few friends. At the table next to that one, a guy regarded the bar unhappily. Patrick’s brother,