Page 17 of Cherished Lands
The plastic was warm against my palms. I smiled. No matter how many times I told Mom how small my refrigerator was, she always tried to send me home with food. If I took everything she pressed on me, I'd never need to cook for myself. But I never could resist pot roast. The frigid temperatures would keep it cold in the truck until I got home.
"Thanks, Mom." I gave her a one-armed hug and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
Dad's voice stopped me as I turned to leave. "Elliot." I looked back, meeting his eyes. "Have some fun."
"Sure, Dad."
He was so serious. I wondered what he'd seen in my expression that had him using his fatherly tone. To be fair, I did need to have some fun. I also needed to get laid. But shit had been so busy. Maybe that's why I was drooling over Tessa.
Perhaps I could convince Andy to head over to the resort tonight. Find some willing tourists.
"I don't trust her.And I don't want her money." I leaned against the bar and drummed an impatient rhythm on the scarred wood with my fingers. As usual, we'd ended up in Callaghan's. By any objective standard, the place was a dive, and it reeked of stale beer and decades of cigarette smoke. But it was comforting in its own way. Reminded me of simpler times.
The jukebox in the corner crooned some old country tune, barely audible over the din of conversations and the clack of pool balls. I scanned the room, taking in the usual suspects for a winter Friday—weather-beaten farmers drowning their worries, young idiots thinking they were tough shit, and the occasional tourist who wandered in looking for 'local color.'
"Seems like that ship has sailed, bud," Andy said, tipping back his beer. "Has she done somethin' to make you think she's not worth trusting?"
"It's Tessa."
"Right, it's Tessa. You guys have that whole family feudthing going on, but to the rest of us, she's just Tessa. She's good people, El. Maybe you oughta give her a chance."
I shook my head. He didn't get it. Sure, his wife, Sarah, was good friends with Tessa. Sure, we ran in the same circle since we were kids. But she was a Belmonte, and I was an Everton. We were fundamentally different, nothing could change that.
I knocked back the rest of my whiskey, savoring the burn. The glass hit the bar with a satisfying thunk.
"Another?" Kai, the bartender, gestured at my empty tumbler. I nodded. Just then, a cold gust of air burst from the opening front door.
Tessa.Of course.
She was followed by a short, curvy brunette I didn't recognize. They stamped the snow from their boots and shucked off their coats, scanning the room for a table. Tessa spotted me staring and winked. I shook my head, turning back to the bar.
"I can't fucking get away from her." My frustration bubbled over like the head on a badly poured beer.
Andy gave me a sidelong look. "You sure you want to?"
"The fuck does that mean?" I growled, tightening my grip on my glass.
"I saw the way you just looked at her. Like you wanna fuck her six ways to Sunday."
"I don't?—"
"I have been your best friend since we were five. Don't think you can lie to me." He pointed a finger in my face. "I know you. And I know you've had a thing for her since... forever."
"Thatthingyou're talking about is hate. I hate her."
"Fine line between love and hate, my friend."
Before I could tell Andy where to shove his armchair psychology, the door swung open again. Chase sauntered in, cocky as ever. He zeroed in on Tessa and her friend as they settled into a booth, his gaze lingering a beat too long on the brunette. I fought the urge to roll my eyes as he made his way over to us, that shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
"Seems my happy hour invite got lost in the mail." He tipped his head to Kai and got a glare in return. They had some sort of weird unspoken conversation that resulted in Kai relenting and sliding Chase a beer.
"What was that all about?" Andy asked.
"Passed out on Kai here's bar last night. He had to tuck me in on his office couch. Now, I know what you're thinking, but he did not take advantage of me. He's a really upstanding gentleman."
He said it with a deep chuckle, like it was the funniest damn thing he'd heard all week. Andy and I gaped at him, but it was Andy who spoke first. "The fuck is wrong with you, Chase? When you gonna grow up?"
Chase shrugged. "Hopefully never."
