1. Sawyer #2
One of our regulars, Gerald, waved at me to bring him a shot.
“A chance for what?” I shouldn’t keep engaging. I had a job to do, customers to take care of, but it was like I couldn’t move. The world quieted a little as I focused on the man in front of me.
“To check off more stereotypical small-town clichés from my bucket list. It’s quite extensive.”
“I don’t even know your name,” I called, spinning around to grab the whiskey for Gerald. Without stopping, I walked down to the old man and set a glass on the table. If I had any luck at all, Rich Boy would take the hint and leave. I didn’t need the distraction right now.
“You okay, darlin’?” Gerald asked, bushy brows furrowed. “Seemed like there was a bit of a ruckus down there.”
“I’m fine,” I said, sliding the glass his way. “Just some asshole who thought he deserved the VIP treatment.” I didn’t often cuss, but sometimes you had to call it as you saw it. “Another customer stepped in and taught him some manners.”
Gerald peeked around me and huffed. “That was nice of him. Don’t look like he’s from around here.”
I glanced over my shoulder, noticing the stranger was staring at me with a note of curiosity.
It should’ve bothered me that he was being so brazen, but I kind of liked it.
Which was stupid because what could a small-town girl like me offer a man like him?
It was clear he came from money. Something about the way he swaggered in with curated confidence and the knowledge that he could likely bribe the county sheriff not to take him to jail.
“He’s definitely not. I’m thinking California,” I mused. To be honest, I had no idea what made someone look like they were from California, but it just seemed like a safe bet. “Maybe New York.”
Gerald nodded. “Bet you’re right. Don’t know what it is.
” That made me feel better about the snapshot judgment.
“You just let us know if you need help down there. I may not be young, but I got this bad boy, and it can do some damage.” He grabbed his cane from beneath the bar and gave it a good shake for emphasis.
My laugh was a little nervous. The thing about Gerald was I never really knew if he was joking or not.
He was absolutely unpredictable. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d seen him threatening to wallop someone.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s really necessary, Gerald. I can take care of myself pretty well.”
He grunted, turning to his shot. I patted his hand, feeling Rich Boy’s gaze on me before I’d even turned around. Sure enough, his eyes bore into me as I walked toward him.
“Beckett,” he said, immediately sticking his hand out and stopping me in my tracks. “Pleasure to meet you. And yours?”
Jeez. Even his name sounded rich. What the hell was a guy like that doing in Pinecrest?
Returning the whiskey bottle to its spot, I nodded toward his empty glass. “Are you a one-and-done kind of guy, or can I get you another?”
Beckett’s hand lowered, his smile slipping ever so slightly. “I bet your teachers really hated you with a name like that, didn’t they?”
I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the bar. “Ha ha. Very funny.”
“Is there, like, a nickname you prefer to use? Honestly, it just seems like a mouthful if that’s what I’ll have to say every time.”
My gaze narrowed at the twitch of his lips. He was enjoying this too much. “You’re not going to stop until I tell you my name, are you?”
Even though we were in a crowded bar and the boom of conversations filled the air, my attention was locked on Beckett.
The conversation was electric. It left me wanting more, craving more.
It wasn’t my intention to turn into every single rom-com cliché I’d ever read, but I even had those stupid butterflies in my stomach when he stared at me.
“What do you mean? Is that not your real name?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a sharp exhale. It was clear I had no choice. Maybe then, he’d leave me alone, but I highly doubted it. “Sawyer. Are you happy now?”
“Sawyer.” My name sounded downright decadent falling from his lips as his fingers delicately traced the rim of the glass. “Well, that’s much prettier. Rolls off the tongue well, too. I like it.”
Oh god. There went those stupid bugs again. How did I get them to stop?
Did I really want them to stop?
Glancing down at his drink, I said, “Now that you know my name, will you be ordering another drink?”
Beckett followed my gaze. “If I do, will you answer my question?”
“Depends on the question, I guess.”
He tilted his head. “The one I asked earlier. You know, about the small-town bucket list.”
Answering that question felt dangerous. Even more so than flirting with him.
Right now, I held the upper hand, but what if we flirted somewhere else?
It would take me out of my comfort zone, and force me to give up just a bit of control.
He’d have the power, and something about that made me nervous in the best way.
I think.
“Why me? I’m sure you have no shortage of lady friends who’d love to help you out.”
Beckett shook his head and leaned over. “No, no. The powers that be have put us together for a reason. You’ve officially been appointed as my small-town bucket list guide.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up his hands. “We just have to accept our fate. Sorry.”
He was a walking red flag, with all his smooth talk and city-boy charm.
And yet, despite the alarm bells ringing in my mind, I found myself smiling at his absolutely infectious smile. The way it set my heart racing with no sign of stopping.
I stepped forward, placing my hands on the bar. We were the closest we’d been all night. I could smell his cologne—the warm musk making me a little weak at the knees.
“Well, what did you have in mind?”