Page 24

“Four years.”

Her slim brows pull together, and she glances up at me again. “Why?”

Placing the bottle on the bar, I take out a can of sprite and some orange juice. “Pretty early in the night for that conversation.”

“So it wasn’t just for love of our country?”

“There might have been other reasons.”

“Okay, we can table that.” She climbs onto one of the wooden stools across the counter from me and puts the picture aside. “What are you making?”

“Modified tequila sunrise.” I have ice in tumblers, which I fill half way with soda before adding a few fingers of tequila and topping off with orange juice. “See what you think.”

Green eyes meet mine, and her smile is genuine. “It’s good!”

“Don’t sound so surprised. Hungry?” I slide her plate toward her and lean against the bar where my plate remains.

“I can’t eat all of this.” She lifts half a poboy and inspects the side. “Chicken salad. My favorite. How did you know?”

For a second I consider taking credit. Nah. “André made them for us. I told him we’d need something quick and easy.”

“He knows me so well.”

I’d like to know her so well. “So you grew up here?”

She nods, chewing a minute before answering. “Born and raised. What about you? Where were you before all of this?” She twirls a finger in a circle over the bar.

“My family is in Charleston.”

“Is that where you graduated high school?” She’s rocking on the stool, and I take another sip of my drink.

“Yep.”

“Football player?”

“Yep.”

She puts her sandwich down and picks up her glass. “Let me guess… Star quarterback, captain of the football team. Straight-A student, graduated college with honors.”

Straightening, I cross my arms over my chest. “Guilty as charged.”

Her eyes flicker to my biceps then to my eyes again. Yeah, I did it on purpose.

“Such a good boy.” Her tone is softer, and she takes another sip. “What brought you to Oceanside Village?”

I walk around the bar and pull out the stool beside her. It’s close enough that our knees touch, but not so close to be crowded. “I like the beach. I finished my tour of duty, and I wanted peace and quiet, something small.”

“If by peace, quiet, and small you mean boring, backward, and closed-minded, you’ve come to the right place.”

I only laugh. The tequila is warm in my blood, and I like being close to her. “I haven’t found it to be that way.”

“Give it a little more time.” She trades the glass for her sandwich and takes a small bite. My eyes travel from her slim shoulders up her neck to her full lips.

“My turn. Let me guess… Preacher’s kid, wild child, drove all the boys crazy—”

“Hold it right there.” She drops the sandwich and holds up a finger, laughing. “Preacher’s niece, and just because I don’t like Uncle Bob’s shouty sermons, I’m not as wild as you think.”

“You’re not a wild child?” Disbelief is in my voice, and I reach out and trace my finger down the line of the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. It’s an infinity symbol with the word Believe in one curve.