He drinks the tea.
We don’t talk, but he watches me. I see him spinning the mug between his broad palms. I feel the outline of his keys in the back pocket of my jeans.
Pete, our cook, walks out of the back at 10 p.m. “You all good out here, Bails? Kitchen’s closed.”
I scan the bar. It’s busy, but not unmanageable. We’re only open for two more hours on a Monday night anyway. “Yup. All good here,” I reply, giving him a brief thumbs up.
Pete returns the motion and heads out the front doors.
It’s when I check Beau’s tea again that he stops me. “So, he leaves and you’re here alone for the rest of the night?”
I shrug as I take his mug to add water. “Yeah. I’m a shift manager now, so if it was busier I’d have kept a server on, but I cut her early.”
He rests his forearms on the bar, pads of his long fingers pressed together like he needs something to do with them. “But you’re alone? You shut down alone?”
Steam rises as hot water pours from the dispenser.
“Correct.” I slide the mug across the bar top until it bumps into the tips of his fingers as I try to remember how many refills I’ve done since the tea is looking awfully watery.
I crouch down and rummage through the box of tea on the bottom shelf. The Railspur is not a big tea place, but I find another bag of chamomile and drop it into the mug.
When I tie the string around the handle, Beau doesn’t move his palms from around the cup, like he’s desperate to soak up the heat.
“That’s not safe for you. What if something happens?”
My fingertips brush against his hand as I complete the knot.
I peek up now, lifting one eyebrow. “Like some guy pitching a fit and knocking beer all over the place?”
He glares at me, and I try to keep from smirking at him.
With a nonchalant shrug, I answer the question. “I deal with it.”
The only thing Beau gives me in response is a hard stare and a grunt.
But he doesn’t leave. He drinks tea at my bar all night long. For hours, he sits there, keeping watch. And when I kick everyone out at midnight and shut things down, he stays behind, silently guarding me.
“Are you sober?” I ask as he walks me through the darkened parking lot to my car.
“I’ve been drinking fucking chamomile tea for four hours. I’ve never been more sober or hydrated in my life.”
I suck in a deep breath and pull his keys from my back pocket, holding them out to him on a flat palm. “Don’t pull that shit on me again, Beau.”
His throat works as he reaches forward and swipes the keys from me. “You’re not how I remember you, Bailey.”
I let myself smirk now, because, of course, we all change. I couldn’t stay that frozen, terrified little girl forever.
I wanted to change.
“You’re not how I remember you either, Beau.”
His eyes shift back and forth between mine, like he’s searching for something in them. “What nights do you work?”
I snort, looking down to pull my own keys from my purse. “What nights don’t I work?”
“Okay, what nights do you work alone?”
“Sunday through Tuesday,” I reply, zipping my bag.
Beau nods and says a terse, “Okay,” before spinning on his heel and giving me his back, looking every bit the military hero he is. Head held high, shoulders perfectly straight.
Regal, like the prince everyone treats him as.
He must have missed the memo though. Because this man seems to think he’s some sort of knight in shining armor.
One who starts pulling up a stool every Sunday through Tuesday to drink chamomile tea until midnight, so I don’t have to close by myself.
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Books by Elsie Silver
The Chestnut Springs Series
Flawless
Heartless
Powerless
Reckless
The Gold Rush Ranch Series
Off to the Races
A Photo Finish
The Front Runner
A False Start
Acknowledgments
I’m not sure I’ve ever written a character I relate more to than Winter. Motherhood is a wild ride, and while I’ve had the most incredible supportive husband with me from the start, I still had days where I wanted to hide in a closet and cry. Single moms: you are the real heroes. Seriously, standing ovation to you.
With that said, this book didn’t come about without the support of some seriously amazing people in my life. Major thank-yous going out to . . .
Mr. Silver, I’ll always thank you first because you get up and make me a coffee every dang morning before I even get out of bed at 5 a.m. so that I can stumble into my office and write. I don’t even really know if I’d be able to do it without that daily ritual. You are my rock, and most favorite barista.
Shoutout to my son whose current favorite joke is calling me Elsie Shrimp. It’s not that funny if I think about it, and yet it makes me giggle every time, so it deserves to be immortalized. You’re only seven and make me laugh every day, and there’s something incredibly special about that.
My parents, who are always my biggest supporters. Thank you for the love and cheerleading, even when I disappear into weird writer headspace and don’t communicate for days.
Catherine Cowles . . . these stress boners are for you! I promised I’d work that into a book, and goddamnit, I delivered. You’re an incredible mentor, and even better friend. I am so grateful for you. And if anyone is wondering, I send Catherine a disturbing number of voice memos on a daily basis and one of them involved telling her about how my dog gets stress boners.
Kandi and Lena, my Spicy Sprint Sluts, you make writing these books easier. And a whole lot less lonely. Waking up to your texts is always a highlight.
My assistant, Krista, who pretty much runs my life. No one looks better in fishnets than you. Also, you’re my daddy.
Stephanie and Kody who both make #teamelsie complete and help me balance all my socials. You’re both lifesavers!
To Echo Grayce, my incredibly talented cover designer, who didn’t get annoyed at me when I changed and tweaked a million things on these covers—thank you! They are truly stunning.
Paula, my editor extraordinaire. My professional back-patter. My fellow butter-lover. Don’t ever leave me. Because I’d find yoouuu.
My developmental editor, Júlia. Your insights are next level, and pretending you had the wrong number when you sent me graphic voice memos breaking down the sex scenes in this book brought me great joy and was truly a highlight in this production process. Thank you for tolerating me.
To my proofreader, beta reader, and—gosh, what don’t you do? Leticia, this book is so much better for having had your hands on it. Thank you.
To my beta girlies who never fail to crack me up as they read. Trinity, Josette, Amy, you are all so wonderful, thank you for gifting me with your time and opinions. I so appreciate you all.
Saluting my agent, Kimberly Brower, who has done so much for these books and this series. I’m very lucky to have you. Thank you for all your hard work.
Rebekah West, my editor at Piatkus, I so enjoyed working on this book with you. Thank you for believing in me so hard. I am endlessly flattered by all your support.
Finally, to my ARC readers and street team members . . . I don’t even know where to start. You make a bigger difference than you’ll ever realize. Every post makes me smile, every review has an impact. I don’t care how many followers any of you have, you’re all wonderful and deserving and I appreciate each and every one of you more than you know. Thank you for helping me build this career.
About the Author
Elsie Silver is a Canadian author of sassy, sexy, small town romance who loves a good book boyfriend and the strong heroines who bring them to their knees. She lives just outside of Vancouver, British Columbia with her husband, son, and three dogs and has been voraciously reading romance books since before she was probably supposed to.
She loves cooking and trying new foods, traveling, and spending time with her boys—especially outdoors. Elsie has also become a big fan of her quiet five o’clock mornings, which is when most of her writing happens. It's during this time that she can sip a cup of hot coffee and dream up a fictional world full of romantic stories to share with her readers.
www.elsiesilver.com