It’s not a “hearts in my eyes, box of chocolates in my hand” kind of Valentine’s Day.
It’s an “acid in my eyes, knife in my hand” kind of Valentine’s Day.
No matter what any stupid tummy flips and too-pretty strangers waltzing into my life have to do with it.
For Pretty Boy’s sake—and mine—I hope there aren’t as many fights tonight as usual.
But it’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m not counting on it.
CHAPTER 2
Neon Moon
At around eight o’clock, there’s a lull in the action, and it’s time to start the annual candy hearts exchange.
Heading to the storage room, I take the heart-shaped bowl from its perch at the top of the shelf. Then I dump in dozens of packets of candy hearts inside and carry it to the front door.
Luke watches me approach, his bright crystal eyes flicking from my face to the bowl of candy hearts and back again.
His gaze doesn’t linger on my body.
Which is fine. Totally fine.
I’m not everyone’s type. It’s cool.
I put the bowl of candy hearts by the door and lean against the frame.
“Here’s the deal,” I explain. “We have a dumb but entertaining Valentine’s Day tradition here at Mad Dog’s.” I pat the bowl. “Everyone who comes in gets a packet of candy hearts. Then, they’re supposed to give it to someone else inside.”
“I see,” he says, in a way that makes me think he doesn’t actually see. He looks vaguely skeptical of everything I just said, so I figure he needsmore explanation.
“Sometimes,” I continue, “you get two people who give their candy hearts to each other, and love—or at least a date—or a hookup—happens.”
He nods. “Smart business strategy. Give all the single people a reason to come out and drink on Valentine’s Day.”
“Or, you know, give them the chance at a brief moment of happiness and connection in a cold, hard world.” I flip my hair behind my shoulder. “But yeah, it’s good for business too.”
His eyes track my hair flip. “Anything else I should know?”
“Whoever ends the night with the most candy hearts given to them wins the grand prize.”
I point to a pink, heart-shaped, red velvet cake from the best bakery in town, currently sitting in its plastic box under a decorative reading light I put over it to make it fancy.
“It’s a really good cake,” I sigh. There’s more than a hint of longing in my voice. “Red velvet is my fave.”
I start to walk away when Luke says, “How many times have you won it?”
I stop. “What do you mean?”
“I assume you’ve won the grand prize plenty of times.”
He thinks I’d be that popular?
My cheeks heat. “Nope. I’m off-limits.”
The next few hours keep me busy at the bar. For singles, Mad Dog’s is the only game in town. We get big groups of women doing a “Galentine’s Day” and we get plenty of guys who know the ladies will be here.
By midnight, I already know who’s walking away with that cake at the end of the night.
