As his son had expected, Tyree spent Wednesday in the kitchen at The Fix. And by the time evening rolled around, and the place started to fill up with customers coming in for a drink and the Mr. April contest, Tyree had pretty much perfected a new recipe. He forced all the kitchen staff to taste—to unanimous approval—then tested the dish on a few of the after-work regulars, just to make sure his employees weren’t blowing smoke up his ass.

Since the customers had given it the thumbs-up, too, Tyree called it a win and made a note to add it to the menu, just as soon as he figured out what to call it. Somehow, BBQ Bacon Chicken Pineapple Kebabs seemed a little too wordy.

Then again, maybe he’d run it by Jenna. She’d come up with a calendar contest. Maybe she could make a contest out of naming that dish, too.

Either way, by the time he’d tossed his chef’s coat into the laundry and emerged into the main bar area, the place was hopping.

So busy in fact, that his bartender, Cameron, was looking a little crazed. Since Eric was on break, Tyree slid behind the bar himself, waving off Reece, who was hurrying in the same direction, obviously with the same plan.

“Thanks,” Cam said, as he poured dirty martinis with blue cheese stuffed olives for two women in business suits. “I had it under control when I told Eric to take his break. Then we got slammed.”

“No worries. And thanks for coming in tonight. We’re short staffed.” Not a good situation ever, but especially not on a Man of the Month night. And since Cam had recently been promoted to assistant weekend manager, this was one of his nights off.

“Honestly, it’s no big deal. I already miss working alternating Wednesdays,” Cam said. “The contest’s the best show in town.”

“You can say that again,” Mina Silver said, slipping through the crowd and climbing gracefully onto a miraculously empty bar stool. She used the footrest for leverage, then rose up so she could lean over the bar and press a kiss to Cam’s forehead. “Especially when Mr. March is on the stage.”

She eyed him up and down. “Of course the part of Mr. March I really want to see is X-rated. Better wait until after hours.”

Tyree forced back a grin as Cam shook his head in mock exasperation, then passed Mina a water.

“You laugh,” Mina said, her green eyes sparkling as she blew a kiss toward Cam. “But we both know I’ll get what I want.”

Tyree held up his hands. “I hear nothing. I see nothing.”

“A good policy,” Cam said as he pointed to Mina. “And you’re in for it later.”

Mina batted her eyes innocently. “Can’t wait.”

Cam flashed a grin, then moved down the bar as the seat next to Mina opened up.

“Oh! Grab that for me!” Tyree glanced up from the draft he was pulling to see Amanda, a local real estate agent and another regular hurrying toward the now-empty stool that Mina was saving by putting her hand on the seat.

“Thanks. I’m desperate for a cocktail,” Amanda said as she climbed up. “I need to be properly toasted in order to cheer Nolan on. I tried to convince Mom and Dad to come tonight, but they said they’d just rely on me to fill them in on the high points.”

Tyree chuckled, remembering that Amanda and Nolan, a local radio personality, were step-siblings.

“You should talk to Brooke and Spencer,” Mina said mischievously. “They might want you on camera. Giving the dish about a contestant. Could bring up ratings…”

“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.”