Cameron’s expression is a mix of bemused and appreciative. Excellent. She could use more decent guys in her corner. He recovers quickly and turns to the bar, raising his hand. A blond giant of a man comes over from where he’s been taking in our group by the sink. He tosses his rag over his shoulder and rubs his beefy hands together. His shirt is plaid, his forearms are tatted up, his beard is bushy, and his suspenders are lime green. He’s like the Brawny paper towel guy’s hipster brother.

“Shelby, Lorelai, this is Kevin VonHause. We roomed together in college and I can’t seem to shake him. He and his lovely wife, Beth, own this place.”

I reach my hand out and find it encompassed in his warm palm. “So nice to meet you, Kevin. This is a great place. I don’t get out much, but clearly I need to be making an exception.”

Lorelai is already reading a drink menu. “What do you suggest, Kevin? Best of the best?”

Kevin leans forward and points to the menu. “The best isn’t on there. I save it for special VIP guests. My wife is probably your biggest fan, and she would murder me if I charged you for something off the menu. I know just the thing.”

Lorelai looks pleased and sits down on a stool. “Cheers, Kevin. I’m digging your suspenders.”

Cam scoffs with a friendly groan. “Don’t encourage him.” He motions me over. “Here, you can sit in my seat. I don’t mind standing.”

Kevin pulls his suspenders with a goading snap. “What can I get you, Shelby?”

“A lemonade if you’ve got it?”

Lyle mutters something under his breath, then says, “She’ll take a Long Island iced tea. I’ll cover her tab.”

Kevin freezes in his movements and raises thick eyebrows at me over his ruby-red plastic eyeglass frames.

I swallow back my frustration and hitch a friendly smile on my face. “I can pay my own tab.” I turn to Lyle. “Please don’t presume to know anything about me anymore.” To Kevin, I add, “Lemonade with ice, please. And if you have any cherries, I’d love a few. Is your kitchen open?”

He nods, his eyes twinkling with respect, and passes me another menu before fixing our drinks. “Thanks,” I tell him. “I’m starving.”

Cameron leans down over my shoulder, close to my ear, causing tiny goosebumps to erupt across my skin. He points to the menu. “Last time I was here I had the cheeseburger, and it was incredible.”

I breathe in his woodsy scent, feeling like he must’ve walked in straight from a bonfire, and have to force myself to concentrate on the words on the page.