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The dancing had been good, though. Tempting, difficult to rein in his feelings, and very hard to ignore how much he’d missed having her in his arms, but good. Nice. And shehadgone unkissed. He was proud of that. He’d been able to remember that all of the reasons not to kiss her were still valid.
If he thought she was staying forever, it would be a different situation.
“Have you decided what you want?”
Beau looked up at Ellie, the owner of the bar. “Hey, Ellie. Um, yeah, I was thinkin’ a burger with garlic sauce.” He glanced at Becca. “But are you ready?”
Becca picked up a menu and scanned it. “That sounds good.”
Ellie propped a hand on her hip. “I’m not asking about food.”
Beau blinked up at her. “You’re not?”
“’Course not.” She waved her hand. “You always get a burger. It’s already bein’ prepped. No garlic sauce though.”
“What if I want garlic sauce?” Beau asked.
“I don’t have garlic sauce.”
“You do. I’ve had it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t have garlic sauce tonight.”
“You sure? Maybe I should check with Cora,” he said of Ellie’s best friend and the main cook.
“Cora’s not giving you garlic sauce either,” Ellie said. “Get over it. And give me the intel I’m over here for.”
Beau rolled his eyes. “What about Becca?”
“She’s getting the shrimp and grits. That’s her favorite.”
Beau looked at Becca. She shrugged. “I do really like the shrimp and grits”
“We don’t even get to place orders here?” Beau asked Ellie. “Isn’t that how restaurants work?”
“I don’t really care how ‘restaurants work’,” Ellie informed him. “This ismyplace, and when you’re here, it’s like you walked in the front door of my house and you get what I’ve got on the stove.”
Beau knew that. Ellie’s bar and “restaurant” was essentially an extension of her home, and she’d opened it more so she’d have room for her big and expanding family than because she wanted to run a restaurant. Now she had the ability to feed all the people she loved according to their various crazy schedules.
However, she also happened to serve lots of people who lived in Autre, and handfuls of tourists who happened in after they got off the swamp boat tours her grandsons conducted from the docks across the street or when they left the animal park that more of her grandkids ran just to the south of the docks.
“What about those people?” Beau asked, nodding toward a table of tourists. “Did they get to choose what they wanted?”
“Sure. I don’t know them,” she said.
“That matters?”
“Of course. Food is one of my love languages. I want you to leave here feeling loved, so I want you to have what you like best. Them? I don’t care if they order something that’s not quite right.”
Beau liked that answer. But he narrowed his eyes. “Isn’t all of your food wonderful?”
“Absolutely. But certain things are just right for certain people.” She leaned in. “And garlic sauce isnotjust right for you tonight.”
He leaned in too, fighting a smile. “Why not?”
“Because I also love Becca.”
He chuckled and glanced across the table. Becca was watching them with amusement and affection.
