Jack shrugged. “I gave up trying to figure out how my father’s mind works a long time ago.”

“And yet you work for the bastard?” Something Cooper never could understand.

Sidestepping his remark, Jack said, “He’s upping his offer on the bar.”

Jesus Christ, what was it with the people in his life that they couldn’t take a hint? First Dana. Now Ian. It was good he had control over his anger because right now it wanted to simmer a little too close to the surface. He stepped even farther into his old friend’s space to drive home his point. “You tell your father what I’ve told him every year since the bar became mine . . . I. Am. Not. Selling. And while I’ve got breath in my body I never will. You tell him if he ever comes back here with another offer, he and I will have a serious problem.”

Jack nodded, face still blank, stepped back, and then walked away.

No fight. No argument. No cajoling.

This was the first year Ian Devlin had sent Jack to make his case. It was also the first year Cooper had gotten rid of a Devlin boy in under a minute. Usually they tried to irritate him into considering an offer for the bar.

He frowned, watching Jack walk away.

Nothing about his old friend’s behavior made sense.

Unlocking the bar, Cooper took a moment after shutting the door behind him. His adrenaline was up. He wanted to throw his coffee at the wall or punch his fist through it. Anything to expel the horrible burn in his blood.

He took a sip of the coffee. Reminded himself that the coffee was too good to be wasted over Devlin.

But it wasn’t Ian Devlin’s persistence that had pissed him off.

As always, it was seeing Jack.

He just couldn’t figure that shit out.

Thirty years he’d known Jack, ever since they were six years old and Jack defended him during recess when a bigger kid was picking on Cooper. Despite the fact that Jack was a Devlin and came from the moneyed south side of Hartwell, and Coop didn’t have much and came from the north side, they’d become best friends. And then as they got older they realized they had more in common than they thought—they both had really shitty fathers. Cooper’s took off and Ian Devlin might as well have taken off, too, for how little attention he paid to his wife, his third son, and his daughter. By the time Cooper and Jack were teenagers their lives were actually pretty similar. They were both on the football team, were both popular, both had part-time jobs, and more importantly both looked out for their mothers and sisters. Cooper was the man of his house. Jack was the only man in his house that seemed to give a real damn about his mom and sister.

As far as Cooper was concerned Jack Devlin was his brother and they had a bond stronger than most. They’d had each other’s back always. Jack cried by his side at Cooper’s mother’s funeral and helped him take care of all the arrangements.

For Christ’s sake, he’d even tried to talk him out of getting serious with Dana.

“She’s no good, Coop. You keep thinking there’s something deep buried under all that pretty, but that woman is as shallow as a kiddie pool.”

It was the only time they’d fought about anything. Jack apologized soon after, but he’d never been very warm toward Dana.

Jack had been the truest man he knew.

Until suddenly he quit his job and started working for his old man—something he’d sworn his whole life he’d never do. Cooper knew then something was up, but Jack got distant and closed off, wouldn’t talk about it at all.

And then he’d fucked Dana.

Cooper had to wonder if Jack had secretly been attracted to his wife the whole time . . . but that didn’t sit right. He knew how Jack was with women he was attracted to. At least he’d thought he did.

He’d thought he’d known Jack Devlin better than anyone.

Turned out he never knew him at all.

And that was the betrayal that cut the deepest.

That was what hurt the most.

Not losing Dana.

But losing his best friend. His brother.

Pain Cooper kept buried deep shot up and across his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered, wincing.

He took a fortifying gulp of coffee and willed that pain back down.

That evening the bar was the busiest it had been in a while. It was closing in on high season and his business was feeling it. The place was filled with regulars and tourists now.

The busyness of the place was the reason he was trying to curb his irritation with his waitress as she rounded the bar from the staff room, tying on her apron.

“Lil, you’re late. Again.”

She flushed at his scowl and threw him a pretty, pleading smile. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get my car to start.”

Damn it, she couldn’t even come up with decent excuses. “What? That brand-new Toyota you can’t really afford?”

She flushed again and hurried to clear away plates. The kitchen was now closed, but an hour back they could have really used her.

“Done, boss.” Crosby appeared at the end of the bar. He gave Cooper a nod, clapped Old Archie on the shoulder, and headed out. That was Crosby’s way these days. He kept himself to himself. Cooper tried not to worry about his cook. Not while he was in the middle of worrying about his waitress.

She was becoming a problem. The kind of problem he liked to avoid in his life. He decided to do just that and took an order from Riley, who had been filling in for Lily out on the floor.

“Good thing I’m a multitasker,” Riley said as he poured the two gin and tonics she’d ordered. “It’s getting busy.”