Chapter 15
JUNIPER
Nice top? I look beautiful tonight? Seriously?
What in the hell is his problem? One minute I’m chatting it up with Vance, who I’m learning I don’t have much in common with, yet is still very nice, and the next, Crew fucking Briggs decides he wants to intervene in the most abnormal way possible.
Oh, I get it. This must be some “I own the bar, I do what I want” bullshit. Well, not on my watch.
I listen, but my hands rattle against my thighs as Vance tells me all about his job in rocket engineering. Or is it aerospace? I can’t remember. All I know is that he works on rockets and that’s good enough for now.
Vance seems kind and steady.
No kids. No crazy exes. Just a normal guy looking for a normal girl.
Simple enough. Or so I would think.
A pint of beer lands in front of me, followed by a daiquiri for Vance, and I know right away it’s my favorite kind.
The dark foam at the top is a dead giveaway.
Lagers are my favorite beer, not only because they’re packed with so much flavor, but they’re bold without being overly bitter like a stout.
And it seems Mr. Suburban Daddy here has been paying close attention to my alcohol order. Does he know which food I prefer?
“Nice choice in beer. Not that I ordered it or anything,” I comment, hoping to make it known I’m onto him.
Crew smirks, and why does he have to look so hot doing it?
Vance clears his throat beside me. “Well, I for one, love an ice-cold IPA when I’m craving a refreshing wheat beverage.”
I’m instantly mortified, laughing to try and take attention off Vance’s weird comment. Crew doesn’t need to know this date won’t see past dinner. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried an IPA.”
“Oh, you’d love it. Here, try mi—”
“Onion rings, anyone?” A plate of piping hot food interrupts Vance’s sentence, Crew coming in out of nowhere. Where did that plate even come from?
“Figured you might be hungry, boss,” a tall blond guy with tattoos says from behind Crew. “Go take a break, man. We got this.”
“All good here. Just chatting with a friend,” Crew tells him, smile directed at me. I guess this was meant to be his food, yet somehow, he managed perfect timing in shoving it at us.
“That’s okay.” I wave him off. “I’m kind of busy on my date, anyway. Go ahead and eat, Crew.”
Could this be any more awkward?
“Ya’ll know each other?” Vance asks, reaching for an onion ring and dipping it into the zesty sauce.
“I’m his daughter’s doctor,” I note while Crew interrupts, “We go way back.”
I cut him a sharp look. “Way back, as in two months ago.”
“Best two months of my life,” he sings, and for the first time since we’ve met, I want to punch him square in the face.
“You something special then, man? Those women over there keep looking at you,” Vance asks, nodding toward the group of women to our right.
“Nah. They know I own the place. Nothing more.”
“That and the fact that he plays for the Strikers,” I add, anxious to call him out. He is interrupting my date, after all.
“No shit. You’re Crew Briggs. Starting centerfielder.” Vance bobs his head in amazement. “I knew you looked familiar. You’ve got a killer arm, dude.”
Crew ignores him as if he’s not even there, turning to face me once again.
His gaze lingers longer than necessary on my clavicle, dropping lower and running down the length of it.
His forest-green eyes mark my skin with heat, and home in on my hand wrapped delicately around the beer glass.
I never knew something innocent could feel so sexual.
Or maybe it isn’t innocent? But there’s no way Crew would be looking at me like that, right? Like I’m attractive to him.
“Speaking of my fielding skills,” he inquires with unfamiliar intention. “Will I see you there?”
Cocky bastard.
My eyes bounce across the room, searching for a physical clarification that he’s talking to me. “See me?” I ask, hand to my chest, and he nods. “See me where?”
“At the game Monday night.”
“Uh. Why would you see me there?” No, but really. I’m not a part of the team, nor do I have any reason to be there unless I was invited. Which I wasn’t.
“Because I like you there.”
I have to ignore him. The way my heart stops in my chest and pleads to know more about what Crew likes. I’m on a date with another man, and now is not the time. “Vance,” I say, turning toward my date. “I think I’m about ready to call it a night.”
He slurps his drink. “You sure? We didn’t get a chance to order food yet?”
“Technically—” Crew jumps to interrupt, but I stop him with my hand.
“I’m not very hungry and would like to go home.”
“Sure,” he mumbles, hesitation and uncertainty in his eyes. “Mind getting us the check?”
Crew pats the counter and throws a bar towel over his shoulder. “Comin’ right up.”
We sit in silence waiting for the check, only for Crew to slide the bill to Vance. I sit awkwardly, wanting nothing more than to get out of here and forget this date ever happened. I don’t know why I thought coming to Boone for a date was a good idea.
Silly me thinking Crew could behave like a grown adult.
Turns out, he has an insufferable side just like the rest of the male population.
“There must be a mistake,” Vance speaks up, holding the bill out to Crew. “There’s only my two daiquiris on here.”
“That is correct,” Crew agrees on a steady nod, resuming his mindless tasks. He begins rinsing our glasses when Vance speaks again. “If you don’t mind adding Juniper’s, too, that would be great. I’m covering the bill.”
Crew stills. “And I’m covering hers. It’s on the house.”
“Crew,” I interject. “You don’t have to do that. Just let him pay.”
A deep hum resounds between us, and for a moment, I fear what’s next. “Hey, Doc?”
“Yes?”
“Are we friends?”
“I think so, yes.”
“Then, you should know that friends don’t pay. You belong here. Whatever I have is yours. Take it or leave it. You take it, and you’ll never pay a dime if I have anything to do with it.”
I stare blankly, unsure what to say. I’m grateful to have a friend, but I’m also not convinced this is Crew trying to be my friend. It feels like more. “I’ll take it,” I say, standing from my barstool and turning toward Vance. “Ready?”
Vance looks confused as hell but doesn’t question it, throwing a fifty on the bartop. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s go. Keep the change.”
Crew grins, turning quickly to make a drink for another customer. “Thanks,” he mumbles, and we’re less than a few feet from the bar before he speaks again, my insides melting with heat. “Bye, Doc. See you bright and early.”
Resisting Crew Briggs is becoming much more of a roadblock than I anticipated. Can’t even go on a damn date.