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Once inside, I nearly clapped with joy. Burgers were being prepared on a flame grill in the open kitchen and smelled so good. And, instead of strippers, there was a drag show taking place on the stage. Beau led me over to the bar, where there were two open seats. “How’s this?” he shouted over the noise of the music and the crowd.
“Perfect!”
He smiled, pointed to the tap where I only saw one beer, and I nodded. Beau motioned to the bartender, who thankfully, didn’t appear to know him.
“What can I get you two?” she asked when there was a break in the show.
“Two beers. Two burgers,” Beau told her.
“You got it.” The woman looked at me and winked.
“No menu. You get what you get,” Beau explained.
“My kind of place.” I turned my stool around to face the stage, waiting for the next act to start. Beau handed me a beer, then clinked my glass with his, and I took a long sip.
“Sometimes, there’s nothing better than an ice-cold lager.”
“I thought you Brits preferred your beer at room temperature.”
He laughed and made a face. “I’ll remind you I was born in the States, and therefore, I’m not a Brit per se. And it’s hardly room temperature, although I’ll admit, sometimes it’s too warm for my taste.” He took another sip.
“Beau—” I said at the same time he said my name.
“Go ahead with what you were going to say.”
I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
He shook his head, took my hand, and squeezed it. “It’s me who’s sorry.”
“Can I ask you a question?” I said when he let go.
Beau groaned. “Get on with it.”
“What happened with you and Daphne?”
He took another drink of his beer, then set the glass on the bar. “Honestly? Nothing. We aren’t what everyone thinks.”
“I’ve seen the two of you together in the past. Clearly, your relationship wasn’t platonic.”
“Right. However, not the love of my life, either.”
“It seemed as though you were angry with her.”
He raised and lowered his brow, took a deep breath, and cocked his head. “Her interruption wasn’t ideally timed.”
“Beau! She lives in Australia. It isn’t like she planned it.”
“A mere eighteen hours from here,” he muttered.
“Come on, ’fess up. There’s something else going on.”
He picked up his beer and took another swig. “It was rude of her to ask you to step away.” He raised a hand when I opened my mouth to argue. “And to be perfectly frank, I’m tired of being scolded for wanting to be on my own.”
I’d done that too. “I’m sorry.”
“You, I’ll accept it from. No one else, however. Other than my father.”
“The only two people whose calls you haven’t blocked.”
