“Pretentious?” Elli asked with a small laugh. “Far from it.”
“That’s a big, fancy house you live in.” Lou hoisted an eyebrow.
“You’re one to talk.” Elli shot her chin out at Lou’s behemoth.
“Divorce isn’t always a bad thing.”
“I thought I’d head out around six tonight. I have to pick up a tire for my Beemer from a guy named Anthony Renaldo.”
Lou narrowed her eyelids in what might be recognition.
“Do you know him?” Elli ventured.
“Yeah. I know him.” Lou gave nothing away in her tone, but Elli could feel there was a story there. “I can show you how to find his place.”
“Sounds good,” Elli said. “Thanks.”
Maybe this making-friends thing wasn’t so hard after all.
Chapter 5
Anthony Renaldo’s “shop” was actually a huge garage-slash-warehouse next to a beautiful log-cabin-style house. The crazy-tall doors hinted that he stored a boat there on the off-season, and the rest of it looked like an ode to sawdust.
The man himself was an attractive, wide-bodied guy with a big grin and fantastically long eyelashes. He flashed her one of those grins when she introduced herself.
“Elliott McKinley.” She extended her hand, and he shook it.
“McKinley. Got it. I’m Ant.” He released Elli’s hand and lifted his chin. “Lou.”
“Ant.” Lou, arms folded, turned and walked among the tables, chairs, and shelves.
“Did you make all this?” Elli asked.
“Every bit of it,” Lou answered for him. “He’s also a chainsaw artist. Ever seen anyone do that?” She pointed out a tall log in one corner, its top and sides had been carved into an intricate owl on a nest.
“You did that with a chainsaw?” Elli walked over to the piece. The detail was stunning. The owl’s toenails and the twigs making up the nest were carved with amazing precision and detail.
“Yeah.” Ant joined her and Lou. “I’ve done garden benches and wedding arches, too. Some brides believe it’s lucky to have one of my pieces in their wedding.”
Lou harrumphed.
“I said some.” Ant smirked.
There was definitely something going on between these two, but Elli wouldn’t find out more here. She’d fare better at Salty Dog after Lou had a pint in her.
He addressed Elli next. “You’re here for your tire, not a dining set, I assume.”
“Yes. Your work is lovely, though.”
“Appreciate you saying so.” His eyebrows jumped. “Tire’s patched and ready to go. Did you bring the Beemer? I can put it on for you.”
“Yes, but, no. Thanks. I’m going to do it myself.” Elli felt Lou’s interested gaze on the side of her head.
“Hutch said you’d say that.” Ant chuckled.
“Hutch?”
“Hutchins. Brady. Have a look around, and I’ll replace your tire.” He held out his hand. “Keys.”
“No, like I said—”
“I respect that you can, Elli, but it ain’t happening. I took in a tire with a hole in it. I patched it. I’m not sending a lady out to hunch down and replace the tire I just patched. Even if Brady wouldn’t castrate me for doing a half-ass job, I’d insist on putting it on myself before you drive it. Yeah?”
Elli looked from Ant to her brand-new friend and found Lou’s expression had softened.
“You can trust him,” Lou told Elli.
Elliott fished her keychain out of her purse and offered it to Ant. Before he took the keys from her, she pulled them away slightly and insisted, “But I’m paying you.”
“Sorry again, Beemer” he said with a smile. “Your bill’s settled. You don’t like it, take it up with Hutch.”
With a tall, frosty glass of beer in front of her, Elli settled onto the barstool at Salty Dog. The large U-shaped bar took up most of the right side of the restaurant, the warm woods and shining bar top welcoming any thirsty patron. The restaurant beyond was lined with booths and tables, the chatter offering up the right amount of background noise. The atmosphere was at once comfortable and lively.
“What did Ant mean about a wedding arch?” Elli asked Lou, dying for a hint at what was behind the silent drama that’d unfolded earlier.
“He made the arch I stood under with my ex to say our vows. I was the one wearing white who took monogamy seriously, my ex was the asshole in the suit standing next to me.”
Elli winced. “I’m sorry.”
“Ancient history.” Lou waved a hand. “We’re here to have fun, and stories about my ex-husband is a surefire way to guarantee we won’t have any.” She poked Elli’s arm playfully. “What’s your story with Brady Hutchins? And why did he pay your tab? And how did he come across you when you haven’t left the house?”
Elli took a hearty gulp of her own beer. Apparently, Lou had her own curiosities. “He was leaving the gym, and I was trying to change my tire. The jack gave, and he swept in to save the day.”
Lou laughed. “Sounds like him.”
“I can’t let him pay for my tire. That’s too much.” It bothered her to take advantage of a stranger almost as much as it bothered her to feel like a charity case. She’d been doing too much of that since she left Neil. “I have money.”
“It’s not about money,” Lou said. “Brady’s good friends with Ant. Probably agreed to buy one of Ant’s tables or something. I wouldn’t sweat it too much. Ant wouldn’t have charged you anyway since you were with me.”
“How fascinating.” Elli leaned on her hand and waited for more.
Lou wagged her finger in the air. “Uh-huh. You owe me a story first. You’re visiting alone. What’s the deal? Need a quiet place to write your novel?”
“Not exactly.” For the last several years, Elli had repeated a scripted, “We’re doing well. Keeping busy. Everything’s going great.” to anyone who would ask of her and Neil. Now was her chance to be honest, to say what she wanted instead of what was expected. “I lived with my boyfriend in Michigan. We split, and I moved home to Illinois a few months ago. I love my parents, but I needed a break to figure out who I am without them. They’re great, don’t get me wrong, but they can be…”
“Parents,” Lou finished. “I know what you mean. After my divorce, I opted to keep the lake house. My ex moved to Virginia with his new girlfriend. My parents were visiting and checking up on me every two minutes at first. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to rely on myself for a change, you know?”
“Yes.” Elli pointed at Lou in confirmation. “That’s exactly it. Here I am trying to be independent and two, admittedly decent, guys swoop in to save me. I don’t want to be saved.”
“Aw, hon, sure you do.” Lou smiled, her cheeks lifting. She was pretty with her wavy hair and her tanned skin, and mostly with her generous, open personality. Hashtag goals. “We say we don’t want to be saved, but what we mean is we want to be respected. It’s rare to find chivalry.”
“Chivalry can also be code for a guy poking around for a weak spot,” Elli mumbled against the rim of your glass.
“Did a number on you, your ex, didn’t he?” Lou asked gently.
Elliott set her glass down and pulled in a deep breath. “Nothing I can’t come back from, but since we’ve been apart, I keep uncovering layers upon layers of crap I have to deal with.”
“Relate.” Lou raised her glass, and they both drank to that.
From that topic, they moved to lighter talk of great places to eat and shop in Evergreen Cove. Lou pointed out some of the locals in the restaurant and gave Elli the rundown on who they were and where they worked.
They ordered a second beer apiece and a huge plate of nachos to soak up the beer, and then Lou was off to the restroom, leaving Elli at the bar by herself.
Typically, she’d be tempted to bury her attention in her phone, but she was too intrigued by the cast of characters in Salty Dog. Including the guy two stools down, who’d been drinking steadily since she and L
ou arrived. He looked utterly miserable hovering over a glass of beer and a shot of whiskey. Elli felt for him. He ordered a refill, but the bartender shook his head.
“Sorry, Patrick,” the bartender answered, leaning on the bar top and showing off impressive tattoos tracking up his left arm. His trimmed beard was neat, his voice gruff and firm. “I’m not serving you anything else. For your sake, man. You won’t want to be you in the morning if you drink another.”
“Gimme a break, Xavier,” Patrick slurred. He finished his glass of beer and slammed it down. “Refill that, too.”
Xavier shook his head. “Not happening, man. I’ll buy you a cheeseburger and a coffee, though.”
“Fuck you,” Patrick snapped. Voices quieted in the bar. Next, he iced Elli with a glare, and she decided to check her phone after all. The drama between this guy and the bartender was none of her business. She’d come here to fix her problems, not invite new ones.
She was digging through her purse when she sensed another presence and looked up.
A navy blue policeman’s uniform blocked her view of Patrick. The cop’s shirt stretched over a muscular back and his hair was neatly combed back. His arms were at his sides, thumbs hooked into his belt. She admired his muscular forearms and the pale hair covering them.
Hot-cop alert.
The cop told Patrick he didn’t want trouble, which was so cliché that Elli had to smile. Then he asked if Patrick’s brother was around, and Patrick’s arm appeared from behind the cop to point across the room.
Out of curiosity, she looked that direction, too. She spotted Lou at a far-off table laughing with a few friends. At the table next to that one, a guy regarded the bar unhappily. Patrick’s brother, she assumed.
In a blink, the man rose from his chair and collected his brother. Some terse words preceded Patrick and his brother exiting the bar, but after the door shut behind them, everyone went back to business as usual.
Xavier pulled Patrick’s glasses from the bar top. “Good timing as usual, Hutch. Coffee?”
Hutch? Elli’s cheeks warmed. Ant had referred to Brady as Hutch.
“Yeah. Thanks, Xav.” The cop turned, giving her a view of his profile and her world lurched into slow-motion.
“You.”
Brady Hutchins—Officer Brady Hutchins—faced her and smiled the same way he had in the parking lot the night she arrived. “Elliott?”
He was ripped like she’d reluctantly noticed that first night. Sinewy forearms, strong shoulders, that long, lean build with plenty of long, lean muscle to go with it… He was too hot to be a civil servant.
“Are you a stripper or something?” she asked.
Lou guffawed as she retook her seat next to Elliott. “Oh my God, did you seriously just say that?”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” Elli’s cheeks grew warmer. She hadn’t had enough practice in society for this level of surprise.
“Not a stripper. And the gun is real,” he answered with a cheesy wink. “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”
He should. His dark-blond hair was offset by even darker eyebrows, eyes that were an alarming shade of green, full lips and a firm jaw. In that uniform, Brady could easily pass for a stripper.
“How’s the tire?” he asked, those paralyzingly gorgeous eyes locked on Elli.
“Fine. Great. But I owe you—” She stuck her hand into her purse and felt his warm touch on her arm.
“Ant and I worked it out.” He pulled his hand away, thanked Xavier for the coffee, and threw a five-dollar bill on the bar.
“Brady. Uh, Officer, I can’t let you pay my way.”
He faced her again, his handsome mug stunning her stupid. “No? Why not?”
Why not, indeed. When an answer eluded her, she shook her head and admitted, “I can’t remember.”
He grinned one last time and dipped his chin. “All right then. You think of a reason, you let me know.”
With that, he was off, stopping to chat with a couple and their children lounging in a booth. She watched until he walked out, staring in his wake.
“You’re drooling.” Lou offered up a napkin.
Elliott faced front in her barstool in time to catch a hint of a bemused smile from Xavier.
“Are you a stripper.” Lou laughed.
“Shut up.” Elli snatched the napkin from Lou’s hand, but laughed, too. It felt good to laugh. And maybe Lou had a point. It did feel nice to be treated well. By anyone.
But especially by Officer Brady Hutchins.
Chapter 6
Nearly a week had passed since the Bar Incident.
Elli was fairly certain Brady couldn’t care less about her accusing him of taking his clothes off for money, but she felt as if she owed him an apology anyway. And a thank-you for covering the tire repair.
It was like she’d lost all semblance of how to be a polite human over the years of solitude with Neil.
After debating how to appropriately show her gratitude to Brady, she settled on buying him coffee. She knew he liked it, since he’d ordered some from Xavier. Though she had no idea if Brady’s coffee had been black or creamed or sugared, or both.
While Salty Dog was a great place for beer, she doubted it was the best place to buy coffee. Instead, she drove down Endless Avenue before spotting Cup of Jo’s and stopping there.
The coffee shop was cozy with its rich mahogany tables and upholstered chairs. A long, tall table was the centerpiece of the room, complete with metal stools lining both sides. Cup of Jo’s was charming, smelled amazing, and she had no problem spending money while she was there. In addition to a branded mug, a bag of freshly ground beans, and a medium caramel latte all purchased for herself, she bought coffee for Brady.
Correction: she bought four coffees for Brady in a variety of ways he might take it.
Drink carrier on the passenger seat of her car, she drove to the police station. She had no idea if he was here, but she figured someone here could tell her how to find him. By the time she arrived, though, she lost her nerve and circled the block once. Then one more time. By her fourth loop, she was beginning to feel foolish and was slightly worried someone was watching her and growing suspicious.
She parked and stepped into the warm June sunshine, a speech prepared for whomever she encountered inside, when the man in blue himself walked out of the building and saved her the trouble.
She was once again struck by how capable and safe Brady looked in his uniform. Shiny shoes, dark pants, belt, gun, badge, all the way up to the full-lipped smile that spread his generous mouth the second he recognized her.
Hot cops weren’t common in Grand Rapids, but the Cove seemed to grow the men nice around here if Ant, Xavier, and Brady were anything to judge by. Before she could objectify him further, she stepped forward with the tray of coffee cups.
Might as well get this over with.
“Brady. Hi. Um, should I call you officer?”
He ambled down the steps to the sidewalk, thumbs hooked in his belt. “Do you want to call me officer?”
Her heart skipped a beat, no doubt due to the extra shot of espresso she’d already enjoyed in her Cup of Jo’s latte.
“Making a delivery?” He nodded at the drink carrier in her hand.
“I wanted to thank you, so I brought you a bunch of coffee.” She pointed at the one in the ten o’clock position on the tray and went clockwise around it as she described them. “This one is an Americano. This one is a plain, black coffee. This one is decaf, and then I panicked and ordered you what I ordered myself: a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso, which I’m now regretting, because I can feel how fast I’m talking.”
His grin endured, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“I have cream and sugar in the car if you need them. And a stir stick, because I hate when you put in the cream, and then it sits in the middle of the coffee instead of turning it a lovely pecan color. I’m still talking, aren’t I?”
He laughed, a deep, throaty sound as warm
as the sun on her shoulders. “Yeah, but I like it.”
“Coffee?” she asked, a blush warming her cheeks.
“I was referring to you talking, but I like coffee, too.” He stepped forward, pointed at a cup and asked, “Black?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” He took a sip and licked those very full lips while she stared. “It’s not necessary to pay me back, Elliott, but I appreciate the coffee. You meet Jo yet?”
“The barista’s name was Zack. I didn’t know there was an actual Jo.”
“She’s great. A staple in the Cove.” He took the tray and gestured across the street. “Want to sit in Library Park and enjoy one of these with me?”
“Um…” Did she?
“I’d hate for the caramel… What was it?”
“Caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso.”
“I’d hate for the caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso to go to waste.” He gestured for her to go ahead of him, and she did, trekking to a bench at the edge of the park facing the police station.
“I also wanted to apologize for accusing you of being a stripper,” she said as she sat down. “I hope I didn’t offend you.” Or flatter him to death, which she suspected was more likely.
“Again, I appreciate the gesture, but you don’t have to pay me back in coffee beans. I saw a woman in need and wanted to help. Comes with the job,” he said dismissively.
She suspected there’d been more to him helping than that. He seemed like a guy who was duty bound in every aspect of his life.
“Not all men are so magnanimous,” she mumbled.
Quietly, he assessed her with electric green eyes, his smile gone. He was more attractive when he was serious. “Talking about your Navy-SEAL boyfriend?”
“There is no Navy-SEAL boyfriend. Only an ex not worth mentioning.” Only now she sort of had. Dammit. She took a sip of her coffee to keep from saying more.
“Now you have my curiosity piqued. First you arrive alone in the Cove in middle of the night with a flat tire you refuse to let me help you replace—”
Bad Boy Blues (Evergreen Cove Book 1) Page 3