to the cash register, Trooper meandering along behind them.
Brynne came out of the kitchen immediately, smiling at that pair of polecats in a way that made Eli feel just a tad bit crazy.
They paid their checks, chatting with Brynne about the upcoming New Year’s Eve celebration to be held right there at Bailey’s. Practically everybody in the county was planning on attending.
Eli planned on working that night, since his already small crew would be stretched thin anyhow. The prospect gave him a lonely feeling, which was odd, because he was used to holiday duty.
Plus, he’d had Christmas Eve off this year—spent part of it with his sister, and his niece and nephew, and part of it out at the Hollister ranch, with Cord and his wife, Shallie, J.P. and his highly forgettable date, and a whole bunch of other friends. He couldn’t expect to take New Year’s Eve off, too; it would be unfair, and if he could help it, Eli was always fair.
Cord and J.P. left, and Eli watched them go, silently vowing to pay them back for ditching him like this.
Brynne, still behind the cash register, gazed after them, her beautiful face expressionless.
Maybe she was watching the falling snow—fat flakes now, spiraling as they descended, picking up speed.
Presently, she approached the table.
Eli admired her trim gray slacks and dark blue blouse, which exactly matched her incredible eyes.
“Something wrong with the burger?” she asked, apparently noticing that he’d only eaten half of it. “I’ll be happy to make you another if there is.”
Eli cleared his throat. “No,” he said gruffly, embarrassed. “It’s fine.” An awkward pause followed. Then, “Brynne?”
Brynne waited, not frowning, but not smiling, either.
Eli pushed his chair back and stood. “Would you mind sitting down?”
She considered, looked around at the empty café, then peered through the front window to check the sidewalk.
No customers.
No excuse.
“Okay,” she said, sounding bemused. She pulled back the chair Cord had occupied before and sat. “What is it?”
Eli was still ravenous, but he didn’t touch his food. “Do you like it here? In Painted Pony Creek, I mean?”
Brynne looked puzzled. “It’s home,” she said. “Why do you ask?”
“Because—well—it can’t be all that exciting, after Boston.”
Her perfect brows drew together for a moment. “Eli,” she asked quietly, “what on earth are you getting at?”
“I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“Why?”
He felt a flush climb his neck. “Does there have to be a reason? We went to school together.”
“We did,” Brynne agreed, with a wisp of a smile and no trace of bitterness whatsoever. “We went steady, in fact. Then Reba Shannon came to town and you ghosted me.”
It was true. “That was high school, Brynne,” Eli reminded her, but he knew he was losing ground, if he’d ever held any in the first place. “I was a dumbass kid with a perennial har—” He stopped himself just in time. Or maybe not. “I was a dumbass kid,” he repeated.
Reba hadn’t been prettier than Brynne—practically no woman was—but she’d been willing, and to a horny seventeen-year-old boy, that made her irresistible.
She’d also been a tease, playing not only Eli himself, but J.P. and Cord, too, for fools.
A few months ago, Reba’s daughter had shown up in the back room at Sully’s, the living image of her late mother, and announced that one of them—Eli, Cord or J.P.—was her birth father.
A lot of drama ensued.
As it turned out, Cord was Carly’s dad.
In his heart of hearts, Eli still felt a twinge of disappointment at the knowledge. It would have been a fine thing to have a daughter, even if she was practically grown before he’d even met her.
Now he and J.P. were the girl’s honorary uncles, and they tended to spoil her accordingly.
Suddenly, Brynne unleashed that smile of hers—it was blinding, like headlights on a dark highway, set on high beam. “I’m over it, Eli,” she said.
I’m over you, Eli.
When he didn’t answer right away—he was still catching his breath—she went on. “What’s this all about? We were both kids, we had a thing for each other, and it ended badly, at least for me. A lot of time has gone by, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Did I ever apologize?” He hoped he had, because no matter how long ago it happened, he’d acted like an asshat.
Brynne pretended to consider the question, though her lips quirked a little at the corners. “I don’t think so.”
“Okay, then,” Eli said, after clearing his throat again, “I’m really sorry. That I treated you the way I did, I mean.”
Brynne studied