brewpub located on the old gin mill property along with the Busy Bean Café, where we sit, and the Gin Mill, another bar specializing in Vermont beers.
“Are you sure?”
Given my history with alcohol, people are cautious about asking me to visit establishments that serve the damning liquor. Still, as long as there is good food and I leave before the rowdy crowd starts, I’m okay in a place that pours my past poison. I know my limits. While I appreciate Scarlett’s concern, I don’t want my friend to be squeamish about us eating at the brewhouse.
“Are you willing to take your baby to a bar?” I tease, recalling a similar line in one of our favorite movies, Sweet Home Alabama.
“Well . . .” Scarlett chews her lip.
“Want to call that hunky husband of yours and ask him to join us?”
“What I’d really love is a night off mommy duty. I promised to help you find a stud, and we haven’t done that yet. That is if Jake isn’t already the one that you want.”
I laugh at the reminder that I once told Scarlett I needed a stud because she hooked up with a man named Bull.
“Let me just check in with Bull. We can keep it just us girls tonight.”
“Us girls and Harley as our man,” I tease of the baby, bouncing him on my lap. Scarlett excuses herself a second, and I’m grateful. Sometimes, it’s difficult to listen to the sappy happiness that drips from her to Bull. I’m thrilled my friend has found a happily ever after, but I’m also slightly envious. The sweetheart and honey endearments, plus the way they look at one another like no one else is in the room . . . gag me with a spoon.
“Your mommy and daddy are so in love, Harley man,” I coo at him with a sickening tone, but in my head, I add, And they are so lucky.
We are just finishing up our dinner as Speakeasy begins to fill up. Tomorrow will be another long day of splitting my time between the law practice and Building Buddies, so I need to put an end to my evening.
“Oh my God,” Scarlett whispers, reaching over for my wrist as we’re settling the bill.
“What?” I glance up, curious at her lowered voice.
“Louisa Miller has found herself a new man.”
Craning my neck, I stare across the room at the youthful, raven-haired woman who had a thing for Bull Eaton when Scarlett arrived on the scene.
“Stud alert,” I mutter, and Scarlett turns her attention back to me.
“What?” She chuckles.
“That’s Stud. The man behind her.” Standing at Louisa’s back is a man all too familiar to me. The same man who hours ago had his hand on my neck and his face next to mine, whispering calming words into my ear as I thought of Ian. “That’s Jake.”
“That’s Jake? Your Jake?”
“Well, he isn’t mine—”
“Rita, he isn’t hot.” Her incredulous tone has my gaze remaining on Jake as he escorts Louisa to a table in one of the most possessive moves ever—his hand on her lower back. It’s a sign of “we go together,” and now I have a Grease classic playing in my head. I hate that hand on Louisa’s back.
“Well, I—”
“He’s fricking hot.” Her grasp on my wrist tightens. “He’s flaming hot. He’s sex on a stick hot. He’s—”
“I get your point, lady. He’s hot.” I chuckle as the simple word does not do him justice, but Scarlett has to take it over the top.
“We need to get him away from Louisa.”
“We need not do any such thing.” My voice rises with the real fear that Scarlett will cross this restaurant and make a scene.
“But he can’t be with her.”
“Yet it looks like he is.” The two of them take a seat, and Louisa drags her chair closer to Jake. Maybe she just wants to hear him better. It’s loud in here with the high ceilings and the wood accents. Of course, I’m only making excuses. If I was on a date with Jake, I’d want to sit closer to him, too. Alas, I am not on a date with him. I haven’t been on a real date in seven years. “Time to go.”
I hastily stand, sending my chair scraping across the wood floor, adding to the symphony of noise in the place. Keeping my head lowered, I lift Harley’s diaper bag as Scarlett already holds the baby. As I glance up, I notice Jake across the space looking at me. Our