Page 41 of No More Hiding

The waitress nodded her head. “That’s Declan’s brew. He’s proud of it. It sells well.”

“Declan?” he asked.

The waitress smiled politely. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Not a year yet,” he said.

“Declan is the bartender. His father, Patrick, is the owner and the chef. Declan brews his own beer in the back. We started selling it on tap about six months ago.”

“He should bottle this,” he said.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.” He gave his order and she walked away.

“That was nice of you,” Vivian said.

“What? Giving a compliment?”

“Yes. But not many would go to that extent.”

He turned his head and could see the waitress talking to the bartender. He was a big guy sporting a military cut. He waved his hand and nodded. Brent did the same.

Vivian and he continued to talk as the place filled up so that there wasn’t one table open by the time they were getting their check. Many tables had turned over on top of it. It was close to seven thirty and he didn’t want the night to end, but there was a line at the door of people wanting a seat.

“I think they need this table,” he said.

“I was going to say the same thing,” she said.

The waitress had brought the check over almost at the moment they’d said that. He pulled his credit card out and paid.

He didn’t want this night to end, but they made their way through the crowd of people and to the parking lot. “My burger was out of this world.”

“So were my tacos,” she said. “You can never go wrong with great pub food.”

“No,” he said.

They drove back to her place and he parked in the driveway.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked. “Or do you need to get home to Sammie?”

He thought of his puppy and figured she’d be fine for another hour. “I’d like that.”

He shut his vehicle off and got out. They went in the front door. It was a typical colonial, the stairs right there, what looked to be an office to one side, a formal dining room to the other.

Down a short hall, they walked into a family room that was open to a kitchen and a small breakfast area off to the side with glass doors that led to outside.

“Very nice,” he said. “I’m almost embarrassed by my place.”

“I’m sure your place is fine,” she said. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Water is good,” he said. He was never one to drink much. Especially if he was driving.

“My ranch isn’t anything special, but it works for me. Space for an office was more important. Three bedrooms, two baths. I’m one person and don’t use much except my living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom.”

“And your patio,” she said.

“I didn’t use it before Sammie, but now I’m out there quite a bit.”

“Either you’ve got shade or you bought sunscreen,” she said, handing him the water and putting her hand out for him to sit in the living room.