"Could get me in the doghouse with my brother. Besides, do you know the crap he could say about me on the radio? He knows way too many of my secrets."
"Tell me about it," Mina said. "My brother knows all of mine. Highly inconvenient."
"Aren't you working?" Tyree asked Mina.
She nodded, then held up her water and took a big gulp. "Just hydrating."
As she spoke, Megan came up, then tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. "This looks like the best place to be," she said.
"Not anymore," Mina retorted. "I have to leave."
Megan laughed. "Even better if that means I get your stool."
Mina rolled her eyes. "No respect."
Megan waggled a finger, schoolteacher style. "We're supposed to be training for that 5K. You run this weekend with me and I'll show you respect."
With an impish grin, Mina glanced toward Cam. "I'm not usually out of bed that early on weekends..."
"Go," Cam said, laughing. "Before all my secrets are spread around this bar."
Mina winked at Tyree, then waved to the women before practically bouncing across the bar to where Brooke was discussing something about the reality show with one of the ever-present cameramen.
Megan climbed onto the vacated stool, and as she and Amanda shifted into gossip-mode, Tyree slipped into the crowd, talking with the regulars, shaking hands with the women who surrounded the stage, and then moving to the back to greet all the guys who were entered in the Mr. April contest.
He stayed there, watching from the back as the contest began, and cheering on each individual man as he strode toward the stage. With each contestant, the crowd got looser and Tyree noted that Tiffany and the other servers were hustling to fill the drink orders. Not bad, he thought, totaling a mental tab.
No doubt about it. Jenna had struck a genius moment when she'd conceived the contest. The crowd, the revenue. Hell, just the fun. On all counts, it was a top-notch idea.
So top-notch that he was a little surprised that his primary competition, Bodacious, hadn't swooped in to copy him. But so far, The Fix had the lock on local calendar contests. And when they printed the actual calendar and put it on sale in late October, that would be yet another revenue stream.
Hopefully all those streams would merge into river of enough money to keep the doors open come December.
Wistfully, he looked around the place, remembering the wreck it had been when he bought it. He'd refinished the long, oak bar himself, and Reece and Brent had helped with some of the other renovations. It was a great space. A space that he'd worked on with his bare hands. A space--and a business--that he loved. Filled with people he considered family.
He'd be damned if he'd let it go. If he'd walk away without a fight.
Not happening. Not this month. Not this year. Not ever.
With that thought ringing in his ears, he went back into the kitchen to check on the sanity of his cooks. On nights like this, things got a little crazy.
When he came back, the crowd was going wild and Nolan and the shy young woman Tyree had only met a few times--Shelby?--were locked in a clench.
His brows shot up and he turned to Reece, who was passing nearby. But all Reece did was shake his head, nod toward Nolan with a thumbs-up, and chuckle. Tyree laughed, too. The contest did seem to have the strangest effect on its participants.
Hell, maybe he should market the bar as a matchmaking venue.
A moment later, he saw that Nolan and Shelby were heading for the door. Since the winner hadn't yet been announced, Tyree considered calling them back. But he didn't. From the look on Nolan's face, wild horses couldn't keep him inside the bar.
He paused for a moment when Brent called his name, and he turned back to see his friend and partner signal for Tyree to reboot the security cameras. He flashed a thumbs-up and was about to head to the office to deal with that errand when caught a glimpse of the woman from Monday. The one who'd reminded him so much of Eva.
He froze. Simply froze. And as he watched her, a storm of bittersweet memories whipped around him, twisting up his insides and giving him no relief from the constant ache of long ago losses.
Resolutely, he forced himself to turn away. He needed to take care of the security system for Brent. More than that, he needed to get his head clear. He'd taken off yesterday to mourn his wife. Now that he was at work, he didn't need the distraction of an ex-girlfriend, too.
And yet the memories remained, and after he rebooted the system, he did the one thing that he knew he shouldn't. He sat down at his desk, opened his bottom drawer, and pulled out the battered cigar box. The one that he knew held a photo of Eva.
Slowly, he opened the box and pulled out a stack of faded photos. Elijah. Teiko. Birthday parties and Christmas scenes. And, yes, one of the funeral. Of Elijah in a suit, the nine-year-old boy trying so hard not to cry.
He forced himself to put them aside. To not get lost in the morass of memories he'd explored yesterday. Instead, he kept flipping, his eyes skimming over images of him and Charlie Walker, Reece's dad. And one of him with Reece's uncle, Vincent, just days before he'd been mortally wounded by enemy fire in Afghanistan, then died in Tyree's arms.
Another deep breath, and Tyree continued, finally finding the photograph he'd been looking for. Over twenty years old now, the colors had faded, so that Eva's dress looked pink rather than red, and the sky more gray than blue. But the love in her eyes was still there, and the face was still hers.
His heart twisted as he recalled their last weekend together in San Diego before he'd been shipped out. They'd known each other only two short weeks, but he'd been madly in love with her.
He'd learned soon enough that he'd been a fool.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, his mind filled with the memory of both the women he'd loved. One he'd lost to death. The other had turned her back on him.
Both were gone.
There was a sharp knock on his doorframe, and he looked up to see a ghost.
He blinked.
No, not a ghost. That wasn't Eva. Of course it wasn't. But once again he was struck stupid by the resemblance.
"Mr. Johnson?" Her voice was lyrical yet strong and achingly familiar. "They said I could come back. I--you are Tyree Johnson, right?"
"That's me."
She drew in a breath, as if his words were a relief.
"And you lived in San Diego?"
A chill raced up his spine, and he thought of his grandmother, and the way she'd always say that a ghost had walked over his grave.
"I did. But that was a long time ago. So what can I do for you now, Miss...?"
"Anderson," she said. "Elena Anderson."
Elena. That had been his mother's name, too, and he looked at the girl more closely. "Who are you?" he asked, even though in his gut he already knew the answer.
"My mother is Eva Anderson. Well, she was Eva Wilson before. And I think that you're my father."
Chapter Five
Tyree slumped back in his chair, all the air sucked from his lungs. He realized that he'd known what she was going to say. But anticipating her words and hearing them were two different matters.
And believing them was a third.
"I--" He cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but that's just not so. I knew your mother, sure. But somehow you've gotten your wires crossed."
She drew in a breath, looked him in the eye, and said very simply, "no."
Then she stepped over the threshold into his office and sat down in one of his guest chairs. "It's true," she insisted. "You're my father."
Tyree's head was spinning. It wasn't true. It couldn't be true. But how was he supposed to convince this girl who so obviously believed she'd tracked down her daddy?
She was obviously Eva's daughter, that part he had no qualms with at all. The resemblance was striking enough to kick him hard in the gut, after all. But except for Elena's height and her skin tone, which was just a bit darker than Eva's, there was
nothing about her appearance that seemed to come from him. More than that, he'd seen the man with her and Eva all those years ago. The black couillon who'd slid in and stolen Tyree's place. He'd been tall, too. And his skin quite a bit darker than Tyree's.
Then again, maybe the bastard had done him a favor. After all, what the hell would Tyree want with a woman who'd flip so quickly to another man and then keep the first man's child a secret from him?
Secret? No, she hadn't kept a secret from him. There was no secret.
There was no secret, he thought again, because this girl wasn't his daughter.
"Is this your family?" Her head was tilted as she looked at the frame with the photo of Elijah and Teiko. She reached for it, then turned it slightly on the desk so that she could see the image better.
"My wife," he said simply, silently begging Teiko to send him strength. "And my son."
"They're lovely." Her smile trembled a little, and she rubbed her eyebrow. "Look, I'm not here to--I mean, I'm not looking for anything. Honest. And maybe I shouldn't have burst in on you like I did. I should have called or written a letter. And so I get that I'm a shock. It's just that I found you and I wanted to meet you and--"
She cut herself off with a frown. "What is it?"
He realized he was staring at her fingers rubbing her brow, a familiar gesture he knew only too well.
He stood up, pushing out of his chair so hard that it rolled back and slammed into the wall. He bent over, hands pressed against the desktop as the room swam and he breathed hard, trying to steady himself.
He wanted to lash out at someone. Wanted to put his fist through the wall. Wanted do something, anything, to still the emotions that raged inside him.
Most of all, though, he wanted to not scare this girl. This lovely young woman who was an innocent in all of this.
His daughter.
Dear God, he had a daughter.
He closed his eyes and thought of Eli. Teiko, I'm sorry. I thought it was just the three of us.
"I really am sorry." Elena clasped her hands in her lap. "I honestly didn't mean to overwhelm you." He could see the nerves, but also the composure.
"You came in before," he said. "The other day, I mean."
She nodded, and a pretty smile flitted across her lips. "That was a baseline test."
"A what?"
Her chin lifted. "I was scared to come see you. I wanted to, obviously, but I was scared. So I did it in steps. Step one was getting through the door."
"Good thinking," he said, and an odd sense of pride filled him as he thought about this girl he barely knew and the fact that she was neither a fool nor a coward.
With a sigh, he sat back down. "Tell me about the man who raised you."
"The man?"
He didn't want to explain about flying out there and seeing her with her stepfather, so he said simply, "Anderson. Your last name's not Eva's, and it's not mine."
"Oh. Right. David and my mom got divorced when I was little. She doesn't talk about him much."
So Eva had gone from Tyree to some other guy. And pretty damn fast, too. Why? Because she wanted a father for her child? He was the damn father of her child. Why the hell hadn't she told him? Had Eva and this David asshole already been a couple even before Tyree and Eva had gone out? And then she'd run back into his arms?
The possibilities swirled in his head, each one pissing him off. He'd gone off to fight for his damn country, thinking that there was a woman waiting for him back home. A woman and the promise of a life together. Or at least the chance to explore that. To see if they fit together long term as well as they had for the short.
A lie.
Every memory that he'd clung to as bombs exploded around him--every memory that had soothed him to sleep, chasing away the nightmares of death and dismemberment--all of it had been a goddamn lie.
He wanted to shout. To lash out. To put his fist through the goddamn stone wall. But this poor child deserved none of that. She'd come looking for a father--for him--and no matter what else he might be, he wasn't asshole enough to take out his anger on her.
Slowly, deliberately, he forced himself to calm down.
"So what happened?" he asked. "Between your mom and this guy? David Anderson, right?"
"Right, and like I said, I was little. Only four. But from what she told me, they weren't compatible. As far as my life went, I was raised by a single mom. David didn't stay in the picture. Like, not at all."
"Not an easy life raising a kid alone." Eli had been older when Teiko had died, but still young. And it had been so hard that there'd been times when Tyree was afraid he was going to lose the kid for good to drugs or gangs or worse.
Eva and Elena at least had Eva's father to turn to. Leroy Wilson had the resources to help his single daughter and granddaughter out.
"We did okay," Elena said. "I had a great childhood." She fidgeted a little, as if she was afraid she'd said something wrong. "I only mean that I didn't come here because my life is crap and I wanted you to fix it. My life's great. My mom's great. I really only came to meet you."
He sat back, made some sort of agreeable noise. The best he could manage, because at the moment he wasn't riding the Eva's Great train.
Elena looked down at the hands in her lap, her fingers twisting together. "She told me stories about you."
That surprised him. "About me?"
"Sure. She wanted me to know about my dad, right? She told me about you being a Marine. Said you were a hero."
Since he didn't know what to say to that, he said nothing.
"I wanted to know you so bad. And I missed you, too. Even though I'd never met you, I missed you. Does that make sense? Am I freaking you out? I'm sorry if I'm coming on too strong, but I--"
"It does make sense," he said gently as that little voice trilled in the back of his head. A daughter. He had a daughter.
And it did make sense. Because he'd missed her, too, without even knowing she existed, he'd missed her.
"I know it's probably crazy, but I've wanted to know you my whole life," she said. "And so when I learned that you weren't dead, I just came. I really am sorry if I'm being pushy, but I--"
"Wait." He leaned forward, his blood turning cold as he replayed her words in his head. "Who told you I was dead?"
"Well, I just knew. I mean, as I was growing up, and--"
"But who told you?" he repeated.
"I did."
He turned his head sharply toward the voice. Toward the woman standing in the doorway, a battered duffel bag hanging from one arm. A vision. A beauty.
A ghost.
His heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, time stopped as memory layered onto reality. She wore her hair short, just as she had back then. As Elena did now. And she had those same huge eyes, that same wide mouth, those same striking cheekbones.
She'd put on some weight, but it looked damn good on her. At nineteen, she'd been a skinny thing. Now, she was a woman, with curves in all the right places. The same, yet different. And so damned lovely it made his heart ache.
Once, he'd believed she was his woman. Now, he didn't know what the hell to think other than that she'd betrayed him. Cut him more deeply than he could have ever imagined.
"I told her you'd died in combat," she was saying, and Tyree realized that the memory had crashed over him in the space of an instant.
A tear snaked down the side of her nose, and the lyrical voice he'd remembered so well sounded rough. "But you have to understand--"
"Understand?" He hadn't felt the rage building until it burst out of him, pushing him to his feet. All of his grief, his anger. All of his fears of being inferior. He'd known she was well-off. And he'd damn sure known that her father didn't approve of him. He'd thought it was real between them, but now--hell, now he knew that she'd just been having a fling. Screwing around with the soldier while she waited for her life to really begin.
"Understand?" he growled again. He saw Elena's eyes go wide and he tried to ramp it back, but
it was as if seeing Eva had opened a floodgate, and two decades of buried pain had rushed back into him.
"You couldn't even tell her the truth?" he demanded as Eva stood frozen and mute, her eyes as wide as her daughter's.
He moved around his desk and took a step toward her. She stiffened, but she didn't move. Just stood tall and still and silent.
His anger spurred him on. "Had to kill me off. Had to make me out to be some hero who'd died in combat saving the goddamn world? Couldn't give her one shred of truth about us."
He was only inches from her, so close he could hear her sharp intake of breath. He wanted her to answer him. He wanted a fight, and he remembered only too well how quick Eva's temper had been. "Or was there ever really an us at all?"
He didn't see it coming, but he damn sure felt it when her hard slap landed against his cheek, leaving it stinging.
Her eyes flashed with fury, and he could see a slew of words building up behind them. He waited, welcoming the tongue-lashing. The knockdown, drag-out he craved.
But she didn't say a word. The slap notwithstanding, she'd learn to control her temper.
She turned slightly to face his desk, and he realized that she was looking at the photo of Teiko and Elijah. Then she turned back to him, her eyes flicking down to his wedding ring before she met his eyes, and in that moment, a feeling like shame crashed over him.
He pushed it back. He didn't have a goddamn thing to be ashamed of.
For a moment, she simply studied him. Then she shifted her attention to Elena. "You have some place to stay?"
The younger woman rolled her eyes. "No, Mom. I've been here a week sleeping under bridges. Yes, of course I have a place. I'm watching a friend's apartment while he's doing summer studies at Cambridge."
Eva nodded, the gesture brisk and efficient. "Good. Marianne booked me a room at the Driskill. I'm going to go check in, and I'll text you my room number. You be there at nine o'clock tomorrow and we'll go have breakfast." She shot her daughter the kind of stern look that Tyree had seen generals use to quell the troops. "Do not be late."
"No, ma'am."
She nodded again, this time in satisfaction. Then, after shooting Tyree a look so cold it about froze his testicles, she turned and walked out of his office, her movements stiff, as if she was holding a storm inside of her.
That he understood. Because he damn sure was, too. And before he had the chance to either tamp it down or let it go, Elena was on her feet, her words and temper flying. Apparently that was a trait she'd inherited from both her parents.