In the middle of my shift, Cole comes in. He takes a seat at the bar a few stools down from Neil Cannon, the town’s local retired NHL legend. People ask for his picture or autograph when they recognize him. To those of us that grew up here, he’s just Mr. Cannon. He’s a sweet guy, if somewhat grouchy.
Cole shakes his hand and buys him a round when he orders a beer with a burger.
“Coming right up.” I salute before pouring his drink.
He scrutinizes me. “You all good?”
“Yup,” I say brightly as I set his beer on a coaster in front of him.
He grasps my wrist gently to stop me from pulling away. “But for real?”
I duck my face. “Yeah. Thank you.”
His piercing gaze is unwavering. “Tell me if that guy ever bothers you again. I’ll make sure he’s not a problem for you. No one treats you like that.”
My knees grow weak. I nod, gripping the sink behind the bar for balance when he releases me.
“Not eating dinner with my parents tonight?” I ask when I have myself under control.
The side of his mouth quirks. “I wanted to keep you company.”
I twist my fingers in the bar rag. Hammy interrupts my fluttering heart with aboof.
Smiling, I give him a scratch behind his ears. “You’re the best company.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Cole jokes.
I huff out a laugh. He leans on the bar and props his chin in his hand.
“The dog,” I correct.
“Woof.” His grin stretches slowly at my amused eye roll.
I drift around to check on everyone. Once I handle refills, Cole’s food is ready. I pop into the kitchen to get the order, then return to find Hammy has Cole off his stool to pet him. My brother’s also arrived.
“Hey. Are you here for a drink?”
“I just stopped by to talk to Matt about brewery stuff,” Benson says.
“Mr. B’s in the office.” I jerk my thumb to the hall that leads back there.
“You too good to drink with me?” Cole pauses from showering the dog with attention to elbow Benson.
“Fine, fine. Pour me whatever’s on tap.”
I get it for him, keeping half my attention on Cole and the dog while they chat about an upcoming practice for their beer league team.
I bite my lip around a smile. He’s beyond enamored with Hammy. I don’t blame him, Hambone is one of the sweetest dogs ever.
Folding my arms and leaning on the bar, I watch them playing together. “You should get a dog. Didn’t you talk about it all the time?”
Cole hums, massaging Hammy’s ears. He leans into Cole’s legs, tongue lolling in bliss.
“I would in a heartbeat. I just worry about having enough time with all the travel. If I got a dog, I’d want to give it all the time I could, or it wouldn’t be fair,” he says.
“The team doesn’t travel that much. Except when they make it to playoffs and the championship. You could get someone to watch him. Like me, I’d do it.”
“I would, too,” Benson says. “You could take it to the rink.”
