Chapter 2
BOOKER
“I’m not going on a blind date and your puppy eyes don’t work on me,” I said, pointing a glass I’d been polishing for three full minutes at Seth. “I’m immune.”
“No one’s immune,” Seth said, twirling around on his bar stool. “Besides, it’s Mark trying to set it up. You love him and you wouldn’t want to disappoint your brother, would you?”
“Not. Interested,” I said, putting the glass away behind the bar and flipping the towel over my shoulder.
Mondays were supposed to be peaceful. The bar was closed all day, I had time to deep-clean and try not to cry over my accounting, work on my knitting, or experiment in the kitchen while Andre wasn’t shooing me out of it.
He was a good kid. I was glad I’d hired him.
But he did not like it when I played with his kitchen during prep hours, and I was banned outright during service. On Mondays, I had it all to myself.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love being surrounded by people I cared about like they were my own children. It was just nice to have one day of quiet.
“I feel like you haven’t been on a date since last century,” Seth said.
I dated. I’d definitely dated this century. I wasn’t that old.
I just… hadn’t dated in a while. Was that a crime?
“C’mon, Book,” Seth wheedled. “I hate seeing you all alone. You’ve got so much to give.”
“I’m not alone,” I said. “I’ve got you, and Mark, and…” I gestured around the empty bar. “All of this. Everyone who comes here. The biggest family in town.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Seth sighed. “And we all love our adopted Uncle Booker with all our hearts and frankly if you made it clear you were at all available there’d be a line all the way to the beach of people who wanted to jump on that ride, but—”
“What possible but could come after that?” I interrupted, glad it was dark enough in here to hide the fact that the tips of my ears were on fire.
“But you deserve to have someone who stays after the bar closes,” Seth said.
I snorted.
“What? You of all people deserve it.”
“Well, you’re here right now, and the bar’s closed,” I pointed out. “Besides, like you came in here to remind me, I’m too old for a boyfriend.”
“I came in here to remind you that I’m booking the bar for your fortieth and I’m not taking no for an answer. We’re celebrating. Forty isn’t dead. You’re just barely an adult.”
“You’re thirty-two.”
“Exactly,” Seth said, grinning.
I raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t clarify what I had exactly right. Other than his age, which I knew I was right about, closely guarded secret that it was.
I didn’t see why. He could’ve passed for a decade younger.
Maybe that was why. I always found Seth hard to read. Mark seemed to be able to see right through to his soul, though.
That was what soulmates were. That kind of connection.
I’d never found that. Maybe I never would.
“Just friends,” I said, caving. I’d known Seth long enough now to know that arguing with him was an exercise in futility. “Friends and people already dating or married to friends. All I want for my birthday is not to be set up with a total stranger.”
“Do you want to be set up with someone in town? Because that can be arranged.”
“Will you stop?” I asked, but I couldn’t help smiling. Seth was relentless. I knew he was doing this because he loved me, because he thought it was what I needed.
But I didn’t. I had everything I wanted. Mr. Right wasn’t about to just walk through the door, anyway.
“A stripper, then?” Seth asked as the door swung open. “Can I book you a stripper? It must’ve been a decade since you’ve seen a naked man.”
“You answered the door to me naked last week,” I said, looking over at the door, we’re closed already on the tip of my tongue.
Then I saw a strawberry blond head poking through the gap.
Great. Now the new librarian thought I was a pervert. A sad pervert who, okay, hadn’t seen a naked man in a sexy context in… a while.
Not a decade.
But a while.
“I don’t count,” Seth said, swiveling around to face the door. “Miles!” he enthused. “How’s your first day been? The bar is actually—”
“Just opening now,” I interrupted.
Seth turned, looked steadily at me for two heartbeats, and then turned his most charming smile on the new librarian. Miles.
I was having a normal reaction to finding out his name. Totally normal. Couldn’t feel my pulse thumping in my ears at all.
Dammit.
I was definitely too old for this.
“Just opening,” Seth repeated. “Which means I have to leave,” he added, grabbing his purse and click-clacking his way to the door. “Tell my friend here all about it. He’s a great listener.”
And then Seth was gone, and Miles was standing in the darkened bar with dark circles under his eyes and a general disheveled look about him. Yesterday, he’d been as neat as the whiskey I thought I ought to be pouring for him.
“Drink?” I asked.
“I was hoping there might be food,” he said, stomach rumbling loud enough for me to hear from behind the bar as though it’d heard him.
“There might be,” I said. “Kitchen isn’t officially open, but if you’re willing to try an experiment?”
“Is it edible?” Miles asked, shuffling a little closer. He reminded me of the deer that’d come right up to me for a slice of apple last summer, cautious at first, but willing to risk human contact in exchange for food.
I wanted to feed him.
Part of me wanted to wrap him in a blanket and sit him down in front of a warm fire, but I figured he wouldn’t appreciate that from a total stranger.
“Hasn’t killed me yet.” I shrugged.
“I’m game,” Miles said, closing the rest of the distance to the bar and settling himself on the stool Seth had just vacated.
“Are you a vegetarian? Vegan? Or, uh, kosher?”
“None of the above,” Miles said. “I thought about eating one of the books in the library today.”
I chuckled. “Are you driving home?”
“Walking,” he said.
I poured him that whiskey he looked like he needed and slid it across the bar. Our fingers brushed as he accepted it and it took all my willpower to stifle the way my breath hitched at the tiny spark I felt. “Here,” I said, clearing my throat. “That’ll keep you company while I handle the food.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket as I pushed open the door to the kitchen.
Seth:
*that’s* your type?