Page 19 of Chasing Smoke

“Hey, handsome. Usually only see you in the morning.”

Dottie wipes down the counter. She’s in her fifties, though that’s a guess because I know better than to ask her. Her dyed blond hair is pulled back, and she has her lips painted in her signature bright red lipstick.

The café is much like its owner—eclectic. At least that’s how I’d describe a place that has a pink neon open sign, a mounted deer head, and a signed photograph of the Rat Pack on the wall.

“I missed you, what can I say?” I sit on one of the fixed stools in front of the counter.

She winks and tosses the cloth over her shoulder. “You look like maybe you could use a Reuben on rye.”

I chuckle. “Not tonight. Just here to grab a couple of drinks. Got somewhere to be.”

Not that I’m excited about what I’m doing tonight, but I’ll do anything if it helps Collins.

“I’ll let you off easy this time, but a growing boy needs to eat right, Ansel. Mark my words.”

“Growing boy?” I place my hand over my heart. “You insult me. I’m almost thirty-three, Dottie.”

“Doesn’t matter. All those muscles of yours need feeding. Now I got tables, what do you want?”

That’s why we love Dottie. She doesn’t do long conversations—probably because she likes secrets, like what brought her to Echo Lake.

“Can I get my usual mulled spiced cranberry juice and a peppermint white hot chocolate to go, please?”

Dottie’s head tips to the side, her eyebrows scrunching. “That’s Collins’s drink.”

Almost every time I’ve seen Collins during the winter months, she’s had a peppermint white hot chocolate in hand. Seemed like a safe bet.

I don’t plan on drinking tonight because I have to be at the firehouse early tomorrow morning, and it seems rude to show up empty-handed, even if I think she’s probably going to drink wine tonight.

“It is. We have plans tonight.”

Dottie’s mouth drops open for a moment, then she slowly nods. “Good for you. Finally got that girl to come back to the land of the living, did you?”

Her comment makes me want to cringe, but she’s not wrong. Collins hasn’t been living since Caleb died.

“I’m doing my best. It’s what Caleb would have wanted.”

“You can say that again. All right, give me a few minutes, and I’ll get your drinks together.”

She turns and gets to work as my phone buzzes in my coat pocket. I slide it out to see a text from Hollis.

Hollis

You coming to poker? Wanted to see if you need a lift. It’s my turn.

Uncle Roy has hosted a Saturday night poker game for as long as I can remember. It used to always be at his place, but then when Elliott had Baylor, we’d sometimes move the game over there so that he could put her down for the night before we started.

Usually, Hollis and I take turns being the designated driver.

Me

Not this week. I’m on shift.

He answers almost immediately.

Hollis

Shit. Guess I just have Elliott’s money to take this week then.