Chapter 7
Daniela
“How come a pretty girl like you is here all by yourself?”
Gag.
I peel my eyes away from the soccer game I’ve surprisingly become immersed in on the screen above the bar. The bride and groom are out on a date night and Jackson is at a friend’s house, so I decided to dress up a little and explore. Somehow, I ended up sitting at a bar watching sports by myself.
I face the owner of the voice speaking way too close for comfort and find a slightly older man with red cheeks and awful beer breath.
I hate beer .
“Oh, I’m just waiting for the love of my life to swoop in and woo me. Bonus points if he smells like stale beer and has a tan line on his ring finger.” I flutter my lashes.
He scoffs. “You’re a pleasant one. Good luck with that.”
Then he walks off to find his next prey.
I chuckle to myself as I turn my attention back to the game, completely unbothered.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been hit on by creeps in bars. I spent a lot of time in dive bars and clubs for a few years there after college. I can always spot them coming a mile away.
“Sorry about that. What can I get for you?”
The tall, tattooed bartender is standing in front of me, his hands resting on the bar so his arms flex just enough to be noticeable. He looks very comfortable there.
“That’s okay,” I say with a smile. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”
“Coming right up.” He smiles back, and I notice two big dimples. Cute.
The bottle of gin is already in his hand, and he pours it right in front of me. Then he slides it over with gentle ease, the corner of his lip still turned up in a playful manner.
“You from around here?” he asks.
“No.”
“On vacation, then?”
“Yep. ”
“By yourself?”
“Yes. Any more questions?” I ask with a smile.
“You a big soccer fan? Seemed pretty into the match.” He hasn’t moved from his spot in front of me. His arms are still flexed, and his eyes are assessing me.
“Not at all,” I reply.
“Hmm. Could’ve fooled me.”
“I fool a lot of people.” I flash him a sweet smile.
“I bet you do,” he replies, his eyes narrowing, his smile teasing.
His attention is finally pulled away as another patron beckons him. He flashes me one last grin before striding to the other side of the bar.
Interesting. That might have been more than just a friendly exchange, but he is a bartender, after all. Small talk is their forte. I don’t mind a little fun banter, but there’s no way I’m hooking up with anyone around here this summer.
I turn my attention back to the game, sipping my gin and tonic. It’s strong and I feel a welcome burn as it goes down. Just what I needed.
During the school year, I hardly drink at all. I’m usually too busy. And I don’t count sipping on a half a glass of wine while grading papers at home by myself. But summer is my time to let loose a little, to relax before I have to go back and do it all over again .
I continue watching the game, and maybe fifteen minutes pass before I see the bartender returning out of my peripheral vision. I keep my eyes glued to the screen.
“You sure are into that game for someone who doesn’t like the sport,” he says, settling back into his spot in front of me. “Or do you just watch because the guys are hot?”
I take my time turning my head to look at him. “So what if I do?” I raise my eyebrows in challenge.
He puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, my bad. That is absolutely your prerogative.”
I nod in satisfaction. “That’s better.”
“So, where are you from?”
“Delaware,” I lie.
This guy is definitely hot and normally would be my type, but for some reason, I’m not the least bit interested. And, like I said, I have no interest in having any flings here this summer. Still, he’s fun to talk to and mess with.
“People actually live there? I have literally never met a single person from Delaware. And I meet a lot of tourists coming through here.”
“Yep, it’s true.”
“What city?”
Shit.
Math is my thing. Maybe a little bit of English and Science. But geography? I don’t even remember half the capitals.
He looks at me suspiciously as I sit frozen on the spot .
“You’re not really from Delaware, are you?”
“No. I’m not,” I admit with a grin. “I’m from Sacramento and I’m a shitty liar, apparently.”
The bartender laughs. “Well, that was a first.”
“I get that a lot,” I tease.
As I look up at him, laughing, his head turns to the side, and he waves, smiling at someone.
“What’s going on, Dex?”
My head whips around so fast I’m surprised I didn’t throw my neck out. Oops.
My smile drops as my eyes land on Dex, standing just inside the doorway, frozen, his gaze bouncing between the bartender and me.
My stomach does flips.
“Damn this small town,” I mutter.
“You know Dex?” the bartender asks, turning his attention back to me.
“Oh, we’ve met once or twice…”
“I thought you weren’t from around here?” His brows furrow in confusion before his smile creeps back in. “Are you lying to me again?”
“No. Born and raised in Sacramento, I promise. I’m staying for the summer with a friend who’s getting married. Dex is the best man, I’m the maid of honor—It’s an unfortunate happenstance.”
“Ahh. That makes sense. His buddy Liam, right?” he asks. “Haven’t personally met him, but Dex and I chat now and then when he pops in for a visit or I grab a bite to eat over there. I’ve heard Dex mention the wedding.”
I nod.
“You do know he owns the restaurant just a couple buildings down, right? Among other businesses around here…”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.” he nods as a mischievous grin creeps onto his face.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing. I just wonder why you’re so surprised to see him when you picked a bar just a couple doors down from the restaurant he practically lives at.”
The fucker winks at me, grinning as he walks away.
He’s so wrong. There are only so many places to go around here…
Am I supposed to drive twenty minutes away to the next small town just to find another good bar?
I don’t think so. I may not want to see Dex constantly, but I’m also not about to give his smug ass the satisfaction of knowing I purposely go out of my way to avoid him.
I pull more than enough cash out of my purse and toss it on the bar as I get up to leave. I take one last big gulp of my drink, then turn to leave.
On my brisk walk out, I don’t spot Dex’s dark head of hair anywhere among the crowd. Not that I was looking too closely.
Did he leave already because he saw me here? Can he really not stand to be in the same room as me anymore ?
The bartender—whose name I never learned—waves from behind the bar. I lift a hand, returning the gesture.
Then I head home.