Chapter 3
Stepping inside the building, Sadie felt a wave of relief wash over her.
The interior was rustic with hardwood floors that were clean despite the scuffs from years of boots tromping in and out.
There wasn’t a hint of the sticky-floored, grimy-bartop atmosphere she’d been half-expecting.
Her stomach was empty enough that she would have eaten almost anywhere, but her standards hadn’t completely abandoned her to desperation.
The long wooden bar stretched along the left side of the room, its surface as worn and scuffed as the floor, but clean.
On the right, a scattering of tables held a few families and small groups, laughter and conversation buzzing low in the background.
More tables filled the back, and the place had a homey feel that put her at ease.
She scanned the space and smiled to herself.
If families were here, the food had to be decent.
And at this point, it didn’t even matter, considering her stomach was already tightening with hunger.
She scoffed, knowing that as hungry as she was, she could probably gnaw the bark off the wooden walls and find it satisfying.
Rather than commandeer an entire table for herself, she climbed up onto the end bar seat, settling onto the worn leather that had been softened by countless patrons before her.
The bartender, a middle-aged man with graying temples and kind eyes, approached with practiced efficiency, taking her order for a hamburger, fries, and the beer on tap.
While waiting, she let her gaze wander across the interior space.
Everything was made of wood. Floors, tables, walls, and even the exposed-beam ceiling created a cocoon that absorbed sound and light in the most comforting way.
The darkness wasn’t oppressive or creepy.
Instead, it felt like being wrapped in a favorite blanket, safe and protected from the outside world.
She could imagine coming here on a cold, snowy day and immediately feeling at home and warm.
This couldn’t be more different from the assault of tropical pastels and palm trees that had decorated every restaurant she’d encountered in Florida.
Not that she’d had many opportunities to explore dining options during her months there, but when desperation had driven her away from her own cooking or the dismal hospital cafeteria, she’d invariably ended up at some Copacabana-themed establishment with fluorescent cocktails and synthetic Caribbean music.
She knew it was an exciting atmosphere for many, but she had never felt at home there.
Of course, the reason for her extended stay in Florida had certainly negatively affected her enjoyment.
She’d barely ventured out while there—the grocery store, the pharmacy, the doctor’s offices, and then the hospital.
Most days, she hadn’t wanted to leave the room at all, her heart too heavy and her body too drained from the constant caretaking.
When she did go out, it was always nearby to someplace fast, and usually forgettable.
But this place… this felt raw and real.
Sipping her beer, she noticed a man sliding into a bar seat several stools down from her. He moved with the kind of unconscious confidence that suggested familiarity with the space, settling in as if he belonged there.
His hair was a rich brown that caught golden highlights from the overhead fixtures.
It wasn’t long enough to be considered shaggy, but definitely not military precision either.
It stuck up slightly at the front, as if he’d run his fingers through it absently on the way in and didn’t give a damn what it looked like.
No gel, no careful styling. Just... him.
Well-worn blue jeans that had earned their fading through honest use rather than designer distressing.
Scuffed leather boots that spoke of real work, construction maybe, or ranch duties, given Montana's landscape. His navy-blue T-shirt stretched across shoulders and chest that hadn’t been sculpted in any upscale fitness center but instead built through physical labor and practical necessity.
The complete package was undeniably, devastatingly attractive. And it had been far too long since any man had caught her attention with such immediate impact.
When the bartender approached him, she overheard his order, which was so similar to hers. A hamburger with onion rings and a beer.
Onion rings. The words sent a bolt of pure craving through her rumbling stomach.
She hadn’t even considered them, but now the thought consumed her attention entirely.
The man had ordered without glancing at the menu, which boded well for both his local status and the quality of the kitchen’s offerings.
When the bartender returned to check on her drink, she seized the opportunity.
“Are your onion rings good?”
He chuckled, the sound rich with genuine amusement, and dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “You want to change your order?”
“No, but can I add some as a side along with my fries?” The words tumbled out with more enthusiasm than she’d intended, but hunger had stripped away her usual reserve.
“Not sure you can handle all that food, but I have no problem putting the order in.” His tone was teasing rather than judgmental, and she appreciated the lack of commentary about her appetite.
She wasn’t a stranger to leftovers, and her hotel room’s microwave would handle anything she couldn’t finish tonight.
As she glanced back toward the other end of the bar, she found the man’s gaze fixed on her with unmistakable interest. Something that looked like appreciation flickered in his eyes before he spoke.
“I can also attest to the fact that their onion rings are exceptional.”
The realization that his attention was focused on her food choices rather than anything personal about her brought an unexpected smile to her lips. “Good to know. Honestly, as hungry as I am right now, I’d probably eat them even if they were terrible.”
“I know that feeling.” His voice carried the warmth of shared understanding. “But at least now you can be assured you’ll actually enjoy your meal.”
Soon, a man wearing a grease-stained apron stretched tight across his considerable belly emerged from the kitchen carrying a loaded tray.
He moved behind the bar with surprising grace for his size, approaching Sadie first and setting down a plate that made her eyes widen in genuine shock.
The hamburger was a work of art with a thick, perfectly cooked patty nestled between a golden bun with lettuce and tomato.
The fries were hand-cut and still steaming.
And the onion rings were a mountain of crispy, beer-battered perfection that could have fed a small family.
What she’d expected as a modest side dish had become a feast worthy of a lumberjack.
“That’s a side?” she murmured to herself, eyes widening in disbelief.
The server gave no acknowledgment, simply moving down the bar to deliver a similar plate to the man a few stools away.
Then he turned and disappeared into the kitchen without a glance back.
“Sorry about Joachim,” the bartender said with a sigh, reaching for a bar towel to wipe down the counter. “He’s not usually that grumpy, but we’re short-staffed tonight. Server called out.”
Sadie offered a small wave of understanding, barely hearing him.
She was already focused on the plate in front of her.
The scent of perfectly seasoned meat, crispy batter on the onion rings, and fried, salty potatoes created an experience that made her mouth water and her stomach clench with anticipation.
At that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only her, this glorious plate of food, and the primal need to satisfy months of grief-suppressed appetite.
She lifted the burger with both hands, compressing it just enough to fit past her lips, and took her first real bite.
The instant the taste hit her tongue, her eyes fluttered shut.
A low, involuntary groan escaped her. The meat was seasoned perfectly, with a tangy sauce mixed with the mayo.
And the bun was still warm, like it had come straight off the griddle.
The tomato was thinly sliced, the lettuce fresh and crisp.
And the melted cheddar oozed over the meat.
It was one of the best bites she’d ever had.
She reached for two fries, dragged them through the ketchup on her plate, and shoved them into her mouth. Another groan. Then came the onion rings with their thick, golden, beer-battered crust that crunched audibly when she bit in.
She chased everything with a long pull of cold beer, then returned her attention to the burger to begin the glorious cycle again.
“Damn.”
The single word, spoken with something between awe and disbelief, made her head snap toward the man who hadn’t even touched his own meal yet. Now that she could see his face fully in the bar’s warm lighting, the sight nearly made her forget about food entirely.
The realization hit her like cold water, and she blinked hard, only to discover his gaze still fixed on her with unwavering intensity.
His eyes traveled from the messy bun she’d hastily constructed for air travel, and now she desperately wished she’d refreshed before venturing out.
His gaze continued down over her face with an appreciation that made her skin warm.
His visual exploration continued over her body before returning to meet her eyes directly.
Suddenly self-conscious, she wondered if her enthusiastic eating had left her wearing half her meal. She grabbed her napkin and dabbed at her mouth and cheeks with as much dignity as she could muster.
He chuckled, the sound low and genuinely amused, shaking his head slowly. “You’re fine.”
Sadie arched an eyebrow, still clutching the napkin like a shield. “With the way you were looking, I wasn’t sure if I had half my burger smeared across my face.”
Something shifted in his expression that seemed like a flash of embarrassment, and his lips curved in a self-deprecating smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been staring. But when a very beautiful woman is making the kinds of sounds you were making while eating, a man can’t help but take notice.”
The implications of his words hit her like a freight train, and she felt heat flood her cheeks as mortification set in.
Had she really been moaning over food like some kind of barnyard animal in heat?
She scrunched her nose in embarrassment.
“I probably sounded like a wild boar that just woke up from hibernation and needed a meal, didn’t I? ”
That startled a laugh out of him, and then it was his turn to blush.
Color rose to his cheeks as he shook his head, looking mortified.
“No. No, that’s not what I meant at all.
” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair, looking downright sheepish now.
“Damn, I’m really mucking this up. What I meant was…
just that… you sounded like someone who really appreciated her food. That’s all.”
Sadie stared at him for a second, lips parted, then laughed. Not a forced chuckle, but an honest-to-God laugh that broke through the dull weight she’d carried for months.
He wasn’t slick. He wasn’t feeding her a line or playing a role.
He was flustered, awkward, and clearly just as surprised by the conversation as she was.
And somehow, that made it even better. She found herself leaning slightly toward him, warmth still on her cheeks, curiosity growing where hesitation had been.
“Are you meeting someone here?” she asked, her voice softer now.
“No, I’m flying solo tonight.” He scoffed. “I’m flying solo every night.” He hesitated for just a moment, then gestured toward the empty stool beside her. “Would I be imposing if I moved over there so we could enjoy our meals together?”
Sadie was tempted, but she never talked to strangers in bars, never invited unfamiliar men into her personal space, and never threw caution to the wind based on physical attraction and a shared appreciation for good food.
Her training, her experience, her entire adult life had been built on careful assessment and calculated risks.
But something about this moment captured her.
Maybe it was the warmth of the restaurant, the satisfaction of finally eating real food, the genuine awkwardness of his approach, or the way he looked at her like she was worth noticing.
It all made her want to be someone different.
Someone who could take a chance on a conversation with an attractive stranger without analyzing every possible threat or outcome.
And maybe this exact moment was the kind of change she’d been craving without knowing it.
She found herself smiling, the expression feeling both foreign and completely natural. “Not at all. Please, join me.” She met his gaze, surprised by how open and easy it felt to smile back as he shifted into the seat next to her, sliding his plate down the bar.
Turning once again, he grinned as he lifted his hand. “I’m Todd. Todd Blake.”
“Sadie Hargrove,” she said, slipping her hand into his.
His palm was warm and calloused, his grip steady. It was the kind of touch that made her pulse jump and her heart beat a little faster. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she added softly. He held her hand just a moment longer than necessary, and she didn’t mind at all.
When they finally let go, her fingers felt strangely empty, and she turned back to her meal, trying to ground herself in the familiar joy of food. But her thoughts kept drifting sideways, toward the man beside her.
She hoped more than she expected that the night wouldn’t end with the last bite of her burger.