Chapter 6 #2
“Of course.” Phantom’s tail curled lazily. “And I suppose the forty-five minutes you just spent in the bathroom doing your makeup was also because you’re … hungry?”
Andrea felt heat rise to her cheeks. “I always look presentable when I go out. It’s called self-respect.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Phantom yawned dramatically. “Well, don’t let me keep you from your … meal.”
Fifteen minutes later, she escaped Phantom’s version of Twenty Questions, gave Crumpet his dinner, and headed out in search of Frost & Flame.
Fortunately, in a small town, everything was clumped together in a central location and she managed to snag a parking spot next to a stretch of sidewalk that appeared to have been recently shoveled free of snow.
The pub was exactly what she’d expected from a small-town Vermont pub—warm amber lighting, exposed wooden beams, and walls lined with vintage skiing memorabilia.
A horseshoe-shaped bar dominated the center of the room, surrounded by mismatched wooden tables and chairs that somehow looked perfectly intentional.
A dartboard hung in one corner, and a small stage in another suggested there might be live music on the weekends.
What she didn’t expect, however, was to find Wes himself sitting at the bar, with one hand wrapped around a pint glass, laughing with the bartender.
She stopped just inside the pub, wondering if she should go over and say hello.
Would he think she was there because of him? Because she’d been hoping to see him?
Then she wondered if perhaps she had…
She quickly scoffed at the thought and shook her head, her silver hoop earrings jangling. The damn cat had gotten inside her head.
In the end, her deliberation was pointless, as before she could make up her mind, Wes turned and saw her, his smile widening in recognition.
He raised a hand and waved, before glancing down at the empty bar stool beside his.
Andrea found herself walking toward him before she could overthink it, drawn by his dimpled smile and the promise of company that didn’t have whiskers or fur.
She smiled as she got within earshot. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I did recommend the place,” Wes replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Though I can’t take credit for the excellent timing.”
“Fate works in mysterious ways,” she said lightly, shrugging off her navy blue wool coat.
She’d dressed in a sweater dress with a pair of dark tights and chunky, ankle booties with spiked heels.
Nothing flashy, but warm and form-fitted enough to her generously poured hourglass figure to give her a confidence boost—especially when she noticed Wes subtly taking in her curves over the rim of his pint glass.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slid onto the stool as effortlessly as she could.
The two stools were fairly close and she caught a hint of Wes’s aftershave, the spiced scent masculine and warm.
A flicker of Phantom’s teasing ran through her mind and she hoped her own perfume wasn’t as overwhelming as the cat claimed.
“So, is the burger as good as advertised?” she asked. “Or was it all just small-town pride talking?”
“Cross my heart, best burger in the county.” Wes chuckled as he made an X motion over his chest before sliding her the narrow two-sided menu.
“No, no. I’ll trust your judgment.” She smiled and slid it back, then glanced down the bar where a petite redheaded woman was pulling an amber IPA from a tap. “Though I think I’ll start with a glass of wine.”
“Hey, Molly,” Wes called, catching the bartender’s attention. “When you get a second.”
The woman—Molly—smiled in their direction before delivering the pint to a man sitting at the opposite end of the weathered bar. She said something to the man, drawing a smile from him, before brushing her hands off on her apron and turning in their direction.
“Hey, hon, what can I get you?” Molly asked, soft laugh lines showing at her mouth and eyes. A streak of gray roots peeked out through her otherwise vibrant red hair, her oval face and warm smile almost reminding Andrea of a fifty-something Carol Burnett.
“Red wine? Whatever you recommend.”
Molly tapped her palm against the bar and widened her smile. “Coming right up.”
“So,” Wes said, turning toward her as Molly departed. “How’s the cookbook coming along?”
Andrea hitched one shoulder and wished she had something to do with her hands.
She had a bad habit of playing with a strand of magic energy, guiding the sparks into various figures, sort of the way a pipe smoker might blow rings.
In Hecate’s Kitchen such a trick would hardly warrant a passing glance from a fellow patron in a pub, but here, in Maple Crossing, the nervous habit would have to stay firmly under wraps.
“I haven’t lost my final shred of sanity just yet, but let’s say it’s on the brink,” she replied. “I mean, honestly, there are only so many ways to jazz up a red velvet recipe.”
Wes chuckled and lifted his glass to his lips. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. How much time do you have?”
Andrea tucked her chin, staring at the knots in the wood. “Two weeks. Less than, actually.”
Wes stopped short of taking another sip and winced. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” She huffed a dry laugh as Molly returned with a generous pour of what looked like pinot noir. “Thank you,” she said, accepting the glass.
Molly nodded, her eyes twinkling a bit as she looked between Andrea and Wes. “Can I get you anything else?”
Wes glanced sidelong at Andrea, silently prompting her to go ahead, and Andrea smiled, appreciating that he wasn’t the type to order for her. “I’ll take a burger, please. Medium. Barbecue sauce on the side. No pickles.”
“Oh, come on, the pickles are the best part!” Wes teased.
Molly winked at him. “I’ll put hers on yours.”
“You’re an angel!” Wes called after Molly as she went to turn their order in to the window between the kitchen and bar area, apparently already knowing Wes’s burger order by heart.
“She’s sweet,” Andrea commented once the woman was out of earshot.
“Funny story,” Wes said, pausing to take a sip. “She used to babysit me and my brother. She was in high school and lived a couple houses down from us.”
Andrea blinked. “Really? Wow. This place really is Mayberry, huh?”
Wes laughed. “You have no idea. Where are you from? Maya said California, is that right?”
“Los Angeles,” Andrea replied with a nod as she swirled her wine and took a deep inhale of the scent, picking up notes of red plum among the more earthy undertones.
“Ah, the City of Angels,” Wes said. “I’ve never been, but I’d love to get over there someday.”
Before Andrea could think of something to say, Wes’s phone buzzed on the bar between their elbows, and the screen illuminated to show a notification bar along the top.
The background image was of a young girl with dark brown hair and even darker eyes.
Andrea was terrible at guessing the ages of children, but she thought the girl might be six or seven, with a missing front tooth and the same dimples that the man sitting beside her bore.
A slight pang of something—curiosity, perhaps—flickered through her chest, and she quickly looked away, taking another sip of her wine, not wanting to pry or be caught staring at his personal photos.
Wes glanced over and tapped the screen off again.
Molly came over with two baskets, each loaded with steak-cut fries and their respective burgers.
Andrea momentarily regretted her choice of meal, as she realized that the monster-sized burger was going to require unhinging her jaw like some kind of snake if she wanted to take a bite, and she laughed to herself.
Back in LA, if she were on a date, she would have ordered a salad, light on the dressing, so as to avoid a mess.
But then, this wasn’t a date. Was it?
“A little more than you bargained for?” Wes asked, his dark brown eyes gleaming as Molly settled the baskets before them and then fished a healthy stack of napkins from the front of her apron.
Andrea met his gaze and returned his easy grin. “I can handle it.”
One side of his mouth curved up a little higher and he plucked a fry from his basket. “Good to know.”
Heat flushed across Andrea’s cheeks, but she quickly blamed it on the wine, and set about rolling up the sleeves of her sweater dress above her wrists, hoping the delicate knit would forgive her.
A comfortable silence settled between them as they dug into their burgers, save for Andrea’s stifled moan of satisfaction at the first bite. “Okay,” she said after swallowing it down. “You were right. That’s the best burger I’ve had in a long time.”
Wes grinned and dunked a fry in ketchup. “I’m glad.”
When she ate all she could manage, she pushed her basket away and asked Molly for a doggy bag.
Crumpet would appreciate a few nibbles of the patty.
As she waited for Wes to finish his own meal, she turned on her stool and nursed the rest of her glass of wine, feeling full and warm and satisfied.
She noted a dartboard in the corner where a couple of locals were finishing up a game.
“Do you play?” Wes asked, following her gaze.
She turned and found him watching her. “Darts? Um, sure. It’s been a while, but I could shake the dust off, if you want to give it a go.”
“All right.” Wes grinned and wiped his fingers off on a napkin. “Should we make it interesting?”
Andrea cocked an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”
“If I win, you bring me a batch of your top-selling cupcakes.”
Andrea laughed. “Really? That’s it? And what if I win? Are you going to bake something for me?”
Wes chuckled and spread his hands on the bar. “Only if I can phone a friend.”
Andrea cracked a grin. “Is her name Betty Crocker?”
Wes tilted his head back and laughed. “I was actually thinking about my grandmother.”
Andrea’s heart warmed. “Aww, that’s actually really sweet. I wish I still had my grandma. She passed when I was in college.”