Does she think about me? Did she like the extra bourbon I added to the last batch of cookies? What’s she like outside of work? What are her hobbies?
I know she liked the bread I made. I know Merv speaks highly of her. I know she’s patient with Patrick and quick to adapt. But I need to know more.
I glance back at the muffins, Thermos of soup, and the two loaves of garlic herb bread I made for her.
Yeah, I’m being super obvious. If she didn’t already suspect I had feelings for her, she probably does now. It’s clear as day I’m driving down here specifically for her. I don’t have a plausible explanation for the bread she gushed over.
Does this scream “unhinged psycho stalker?”
I’mnotstalking her, though. If I were, I would have stayed behind and followed her home after the time we spent together in August. That evening? It was special. I think about that half an hour daily, and it leaves me craving more. Fate has given me multiple chances with Mikey, and I haven’t made the most of them yet.
I hope fate is feeling generous today.
“Ah-ha!Pat, you owe me twenty bucks. I told ya he’d be back.” Merv cackles and slaps his hand on his knee as soon as I’m inside the lobby. There’s no one here, and Merv and Patrick are both behind the desk. Must be a slow day.
“Damn it,” Patrick whispers, pulling out his wallet.
“Saint! Did ya bring more cookies? I’m withering away here and need to pad up for the winter.” Merv pats his belly and leans back in the chair.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Merv, but not today.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of the van. “I have?—”
“Yeah, yeah. Somethin’s wrong with your van, and ya need to get it checked before you can go back to Cupid’s Cove. Mikey’s not here.”
I try to hide my disappointment, but my shoulders sag with defeat. “I didn’t think?—”
“Sure ya didn’t. It’s okay, son. Mikey’ll be back tomorrow if your problem is still there.”
I really should get back to Cupid’s Cove. I just wiggled the light connectors loose, so I can plug those back in and fix it myself. I should cut my losses and take this as a sign to stop this nonsense.
“I’ve gotta head back tonight, so if someone else has time to look, it’s just my tail lights…” I trail off, feeling like a really big idiot.
Patrick and Merv share a look before Patrick stands and holds out his hands. “You know, this might take a while. You shouldn’t sit here and wait in an empty lobby. There’s a bar down the street, Rooster’s, you should check out. Good food, good drinks.”
“Rooster’s is a great place. Might findexactlywhat you’re lookin’ for there,” Merv adds pointedly.
Why the hell are they trying to get me to go to a bar at three o’clock on a Thursday?
“I uh… I guess I’ll be at Rooster’s? Do you need my number to let me know when the van is done?”
“Nah. We’ve got it. Your van is in good hands. Go find what you need, and don’t let it go once ya got it.” Merv nods resolutely, shooing me out the door.
Merv toldme Rooster’s was a few blocks east on the left, and I have no trouble finding it once I turn a corner and see the bright red neon sign with a rooster wearing a cowboy hat, holding a beer stein.
The outside has a brick facade with metal signs of the different brands of alcohol they serve pinned against the wall. The only other bar I’ve been to is Kiss & Tell in Cupid’s Cove, so I don’t have much to compare it to, but it looks clean.
When I walk in, though, the vibes are vastly different from Kiss & Tell. Rooster’s is kind of a dive, with cracked vinyl seats lining booths and heavy wooden stools along the bar. There arelow-hanging lights that look like eggs set low and warm. Rooster and chicken decorations take up every available surface.
It’s kitschy, but the decor is clearly not hurting business.
Once I’ve adjusted to the light inside, my gaze lands on a head of familiar brown hair. She’s sitting at the bar with a woman who looks to be in her early fifties, glasses of amber liquid in front of them. I’d recognize the slope of her nose and the curve of her cheek anywhere. Her hair is down in messy waves today, which is new, but I know it’s Mikey.
Did they know she’d be here?
Am I supposed to say something?
I should just slip out of here and?—
“Hey, man, sit wherever you want!” the bartender yells, drawing every eye in the room to me, including Mikey’s. Her teal eyes are shadowed by the dim lighting, but I still see them widen in surprise.
