The bartender swings by with fresh drinks. Small-town hospitality, apparently. I raise mine.
We keep talking.
I tell him about the time I cried over burnt sourdough. He tells me, quietly, about the panic attack in a city elevator that made him sell everything and drive west until the pavement ended. His voice stays even, but there’s something raw underneath. I don’t push. I just listen.
And somewhere between my second cocktail and his third whiskey, the space between us shrinks. My knee brushes his under the bar. Neither of us moves away.
His gaze drops to my mouth once, twice, and lingers.
Heat coils low in my belly. I lean in a fraction. “You’re staring.”
“You’re worth staring at.”
My breath catches.
He clears his throat, looks down at his glass. “That came out wrong.”
“No.” I touch his wrist, light, tentative. “It came out exactly right.”
His eyes snap back to mine. Dark. Hungry. Cautious.
I smile slowly, sunny, sure. “I like you, Nathan Edwards.”
His exhale is rough. “I like you too, Katy Moore.”
The bartender calls last call. It feels like we just got here, and I’m not ready for the night to be over.
Nathan insists on paying, waving off my protest with a quiet “Next time”, and we step outside together.
The cold hits like a slap. Snowflakes drift in the streetlights. My car’s parked two spots down from his truck.
I turn to him. “This was really nice.”
“Yeah.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “It was.”
Silence stretches—sweet, heavy, electric.
I take a breath. “Maybe we can do it again? Without the ambush?”
His gaze drops to my mouth again. Stays. “Maybe.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
“Goodnight, Nathan.”
“Goodnight, Katy.”
He watches me walk to my car. I feel it the whole way, his eyes on me, warm in the February dark.
I slide behind the wheel, start the engine, and sit there for a second grinning like an absolute fool.
Girls’ night gone wrong? No.
Girls’ night gone perfectly, gloriously, heart-poundingly right.
And I already know one thing for certain: I’m going to see that man again. Soon.
Chapter three
