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She smiled at Ember, then walked away.
Jake turned back to Ember. “Um…”
“A friend of yours?”
“Not really. You remember me telling you about the couple of polite dates I went on? She was one of them.”
“I see.” She smiled. “It seems she’s a little disappointed to find out you’re married.”
“Yeah. I’m going to go get that beer now.” He kissed Ember.
“If you run into any more politely dated women and need rescuing, send me an SOS on your phone.”
“Will do.”
Jake headed for the beer tent and when he went inside, he saw Joey behind the bar. He came up to her and gave her a nod.
“Joey. I heard you were back in town. Are you tending bar now?”
“No. But I can pour a draft or open a bottle. How are you, Mr. O’Connell?”
“I’m good. How’s the house coming along?”
“I’m actually going to move in this week.”
“Great. It’s a pretty cool old house.”
“I love it. It’s going to be a lot of work. But it’ll be worth it in the end. Did you want a beer?”
“Yes, please. I’ll take a bottle.”
While Joey got his beer from the cooler, he spotted a child sitting at the end of the counter. When Joey returned, he nodded toward the boy. “Is that a friend of yours?”
“Oh, um…I know. Slightly inappropriate. But I didn’t have anyone to watch him.”
“He’s related to you?”
She took a breath. “Yes. He’s my son.”
Jake raised his eyebrows. “Oh. I hadn’t heard.” The boy turned and looked at Jake, then gave him a smile. Jake stopped breathing for a moment, then looked at Joey, who seemed to have slipped into a state of panic. He laid a ten on the counter and picked up his beer. “Keep the change.”
She nodded, and Jake glanced at Finn again. “Have a good day, Joey.”
Jake returned to the table and sat down, still trying to process what was going through his head. Ember reached for his hand.
“Jake. Honey, what’s wrong?”
He looked at her. “Um…shit. I hope I’m wrong about this.”
“Please talk to me.”
He sighed. “Joey was working the bar. Her dad owns the White Buffalo, and it’s their year to run the beer tent.”
“Right. Did she say something to you?”
“She has a son. He was there. Sitting at the end of the bar coloring. When he looked at me…” He shook his head. “The boy is the spitting image of J.T. at that age.”
“Oh my gosh. Do you think…?”
