Page 42 of Against All Odds

“No way!”

I nod. “Did you know her?”

“Know her? Doreen was everyone’s favorite person here. She used to bring brownies to the school once a week for anyone the teachers thought deserved one. It was ... my favorite thing.”

I smile, remembering baking with her as a child. She knew every recipe by heart and would just go in the kitchen and whip something up, as though it was no big deal. The best part was trying to stump her and naming some weird dessert, but somehow Granny just knew, and she’d make it.

God, I miss her so much.

I smile at Max. “I’m glad you were one who got them then. I loved everything she baked.”

Everett clears his throat. “Are you here because the heat went out again?”

“Nope.”

“Electrical this time?”

I shake my head.

“Tried to paint another room?”

I snort. “Nope, none of those. It actually isn’t any housing catastrophe this time.”

There’s not a chance I’m admitting the real reason. I don’t need to look any more ridiculous than I already do.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Why are you at the bar?”

“Why are you?” I deflect.

He points over at a table to the right. “That’s one of my teammates, Killian. We came to grab a drink after practice so he can pay me back for waking up at the ass crack of dawn to check on his horse.”

“You’re going to see a horse? And help it?”

That’s so sweet.

He chuckles. “Well, yes, I am a vet.”

“I know, but I figured you just dealt with a lot of dogs and cats.”

Everett’s smile widens. “I do that too. Do you have a thing against them?”

“Of course not!” I say quickly. “You know that since your dog and I are very close.”

He laughs. “Brutus is easily won over. If I told you I also saved a cat today, would you get all excited?”

“Yes. Duh.”

He chuckles. “All right, now that I told you why I’m here, I’d like to know what has you here.”

Of course he does. “Can’t a girl just walk to the local bar for a drink?”

“She can. Is that what you’re doing?”

I could lie. It would honestly be the easiest thing, but I hate liars.

“I’m drowning my sorrows,” I admit.

“And what sorrows might those be?”

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