“Hey, it’s so good to see you again.” He wears a broad smile as he clasps my upper arms, pulling me to him to press his lips to my cheek.
Before I can protest, he lets go and brushes past me.
“Busy morning?” He raises his eyebrows as he glances up and down my body.
“Always. Mondays are restock days here.” I gesture to the quiet bar.
He turns away, his gaze wandering the corners and shelves.
I’m sure this decor isn’t exactly up to the level it looks like he’s used to. My old beer logo mirrors and tin pin-up style signs probably are pretty low class for him.
“It’s cute. I haven’t really been in here after you and Chris bought the place.” He idly spins one of the stools as he steps by it.
“That was a long time ago.” I think it was shortly before Ava died.
He nods, his lips pursing as he bends over the jukebox. “Yea, we all kind of left town.” But then he stands, his dark eyes pinning me. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out sooner.”
It hurts to rekindle the memories of that night.
“Have you ever heard from Chris?” Eli leans his corner against the bright edge of the music machine, but there isn’t amusement in the set of his jaw.
“No,” I say bluntly.
“Hmm.” He pushes away to move in front of me, lowering his face until it’s even with mine. “Don’t you think it’s a little strange how many of my friends have gone missing around here?”
A small shiver works up my spine with his tone.
“We’re getting old, Eli.” I shift away to behind the bar.
It’s my comfort zone.
“Want a drink?” I grab myself a Diet Coke and tilt it towards him.
“No, I’d like to take you out on a date. I mean, since our days are numbered.” His sideways smile reveals the heat in his words.
“Yea, about that.” Popping the top on my soda sends a spray of carbonation over my hand. “I’m already seeing someone.”
Even if he won’t talk to me.
“Oh?” Eli slides onto the stool with an easy smile. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
Shit. How do I say I’m with someone who was a kid the last time Eli was around?
“The youngest McCullough,” I say, shrugging my shoulders in a hope Eli doesn’t get weirded out.
But his jaw tightens and the cords of his neck bulge as he pushes himself away from the bar.
“What?” he chokes. “How could you, after what he did?”
“Sawyer hasn’t done anything,” I snap back, suddenly defensive.
Eli’s palm runs down his face, then scratches his neck leaving pink lines behind. “Wait. The kid?”
My arms cross my chest. “He’s not a kid. He’s in his twenties and very much a man.”
And he’smine.
Well. As soon as I figure out how to get him back.
