Page 26 of Finding Home

“Yep.” The tiny group laughed in unison.

“I’m going to need a drink to handle you people and beer makes me bloat, so I’m going to grab something at the bar.”

“They don’t have Dom Pérignon here, Ms. Fancy No-Pants,” Janet bellowed as Elle headed toward the bar.

Zigzagging between the mix of tables and patrons, Elle approached the well-used bar. A blue Dutch door separated the long counter from the banquet room that held so many memories from Elle’s youth. A yellow glow of hanging lamps lit the room with a sense of comfortable casualness reminiscent of a pair of well-worn jeans.

The last time she had been here was a week after her twenty-first birthday. Uncle Pete bought Viet and her their first legal drink here.

“What can I get you, honey?” The backwards cap-wearing bartender drawled.

“Can I get a Ketel One and soda?”

“We don’t have Ketel One.”

“Oh, how about Tito’s?”

“Sweetheart, this is a VFW.” The bartender smirked.

“Vodka soda with whatever you have, please.” Noticing the pitcher of beer at their table was getting low, she thought a refresher would be needed to fuel Janet’s cheers and the guys’ aim. Just like her uncle, she was always anticipating her people’s needs. “Can I also get a pitcher of Genny Lite? Thank you. What’s your name?”

“It’s Laney. You?”

“It’s Eleanor.” She winced.“Uh…Elle, I mean. Sorry. Legally my name is Eleanor, but I go by Elle.” She bit her lip to stop her runaway blurting.

“Nice to meet you Eleanor uh Elle,” Laney sassed, placing the drink in front of Elle. Then she filled a pitcher with foamy beer.

“Thank you. How much do I owe you?” Elle asked, digging her wallet out of her purse.

“No worries, it’s on him.” Laney shot a glance behind Elle.

She turned to find a sly smile, gray eyes, and a Team Paw Patrol T-shirt hugging a muscular chest. “Clayton.” A far-too-big smile invaded her face.

“Elle.” His was equally large.

“I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“Bathroom.” His voice dipped low, somehow making the word “bathroom” sound sexy. Inching closer, he caged her between his strong arms and the bar. “Let me carry this.” His hot breath kissed below her ear as he spoke.

Clayton straightened, stepping back with the pitcher in one hand and her drink in the other. His gaze was pinned on her, the air between them sizzled.

Calm yourself, Elle!

“I can carry things,” she protested, scrunching her face at the lackluster retort, she took her drink from his hand.

“I know… Just sharing the load.”

Her heartthump-thumpedat the flirtatious nature of his tone. “So, you’re the other half of Team Paw Patrol?”

“Will you be cheering for us?” he asked, his mouth curled into a playful grin.

“I’m Team Walk the Line.”

“What would Fitz say?”

“I’ll just give him belly rubs. I hear it’s very effective.”Her voice was breathy. The ghost of Marilyn Monroe was in possession of her again. Leaning into it, she gazed over the brim of her plastic cup and batted her lashes, trying to appear sexy and aloof despite the urge to blanche at the sour taste of what was, no doubt, moonshine.

“Extremely effective.” The deep timbre of his voice vibrated across her body.

---