Chapter 2
2
T here are a lot of regulars in this bar, but Sarah Anderson isn’t one of them. She was always that cool, artsy girl in high school, the one who never really fit into the small-town mold. When she went off to California after graduation, it felt like the natural next step for her. Time flies. It’s been nearly thirteen years since we graduated, and though I’ve heard she’s been back in town, I haven’t seen her much. The last time was a couple of months ago at our Christmas pop-up event.
I’ve always been intrigued by her. Back then, she had this effortless way about her—creative, bold, someone who wasn’t afraid to be different. Meanwhile, I was the skinny kid on the wrestling team, and she’s never given me the time of day. Not that I blame her. I never gave her a reason to.
Staring at her long, toned legs, I decide to take a page out of Nicholas’s playbook. I’m going to use Cupid’s magic to break the ice.
“Claire,” I say, getting the new server’s attention. “Send a round of Jello shots to Emily’s table and tell the hot girl with the legs that they’re from a secret admirer.”
Watching Sarah for a moment, I find the heart-shaped sunglasses she’s wearing ridiculous, but on her, they work. With her light blue eyes and long, dark brown hair, she’s always been striking.
“You look so hot!” Karen, one of the regulars, interrupts my thoughts, practically panting as she leans against the bar.
I laugh, shaking a cocktail. “Thanks, Karen.”
“I can’t wait to get a photo with you later,” she adds with a wink, enjoying the spectacle of me shirtless with these ridiculous angel wings.
I flash her a smile, grateful for the brief distraction. I missed seeing Sarah’s reaction when the shots arrived at her table, but that’s probably for the best. I don’t need to overthink it. My mind starts wandering, though, thinking about what I could do next. Maybe something a little more personal.
Although, I can’t get too distracted with all the orders flying in. I buzz the office, pressing the button under the bar. Nicholas has been hiding in there for way too long. I need his help with these drinks.
“And there he is,” I tease as he finally emerges.
“We are never doing this again,” he grumbles, tugging at the wings on his back. “This is so much worse than the Santa suit.”
“Are you getting nervous about what Taylor’s going to propose for St. Paddy’s on our next call?”
“I’m Nicholas O’Malley. I have St. Paddy’s covered.”
“Good!” I sigh with relief. Looking around the crowded bar, I say, “This event might even be more successful than our Christmas pop up.”
As Nicholas grabs printed drink orders, I pause for a moment. I’ve got an idea. Something more thoughtful .
I grab a cocktail glass and start mixing. A bit of gin, some lavender syrup, a splash of elderflower liqueur—something with an artistic flair, just like her. I choose a purple garnish, subtle but striking, and smile as I look at the finished product. It’s got that creative edge that reminds me of her, something unique but not over the top.
“Claire,” I call out again, handing her the drink. “Take this over to Legs, and don’t tell her who it’s from.” I press my finger to my lips.