She frowned as she looked around. “I’m sorry. I think there’s space at the bar, but there are no available tables right this moment.” She glanced at her book and then at the television screen. “If you give it fifteen more minutes, the game will be over, and a lot of these people will clear out.”
“I’ll grab a seat at the bar,” I told her, eyeing an empty stool on the end.
I made a beeline to the spot and narrowly avoided getting elbowed in the face when a blocked shot caused the room to erupt.
“Sorry,” a man apologized quickly, before high-fiving a bunch of people around him and then sitting back down.
I climbed onto the stool and directed my attention to the large screen in front of me. Players hustled across the court, scrambling for the ball, and everyone around me was riveted. I took that opportunity to grab the bartender’s attention.
“Hey! Welcome to Stadium,” she greeted me with a bright smile. Even though her eyes looked tired, she seemed upbeat. “I’m Trina, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. Our late-night menu is right here. Is there anything I can get for you now, or do you need me to circle back in a few?”
“Hi, I am going to order food. But for right now, I’ll just take a Blue Motorcycle,” I told her, handing her a twenty-dollar bill.
She winked. “Thank you.”
The basketball game ended just as I placed my order for a bacon cheeseburger with seasoned fries. The chaos resulting from the come-from-behind win caused most of the patrons to leap to their feet. Some people left, but most of the others were standing, yelling, and causing a commotion. The cloud of gambling failures and financial loss hung in the air, and the place was in disarray. It was so wild to witness the collective shock followed by the immediate stampede around the bar.
Looking around, I sipped my strong drink with my eyes wide. The remaining members of the crowd were rowdy, angrily recapping theend of the game. There was so much going on, I didn’t know if there was going to be a fight or a mass exodus.
I’d wanted a distraction, and I got it.
My attention bounced from the people in the bar to the large television in front of me. Someone changed the channel from the basketball game highlights to a football game from the previous season. A large portion of the crowd cleared out after that. But it was still noisy enough for me to not be alone with my thoughts. I knew the outcome of the game already, but I was still interested in how everything played out on the field.
“Here’s your food,” Trina announced.
I gawked at my dish. “Oh wow. Thank you.”
Pulling my hand sanitizer out of my bag, I cleaned my hands and then took a big bite of my burger.
“Mmm,” I intoned as the burst of flavors exploded in my mouth.
“That looks good,” commented a man who sat in the recently vacated seat next to me.
My first inclination was to put my guard up and tell him I had a man and that I wasn’t interested in making small talk. But the conversation with my girls popped in my head, and I chose a different route.
I just nodded politely.
I heard him, but I didn’t truly acknowledge him. I hated talking to strangers while I was eating—especially in Chance. And since he wasn’t really talking to me, he was talking about my food to himself, I didn’t engage. I just stared at the large television in front of me and continued to chew my burger.
Seconds later, he lifted a large hand to flag down the bartender, and his cologne hit me, stealing my attention. I closed my eyes for a moment and inhaled the bergamot-and-cedarwood scent. It was intoxicating.
He didn’t just smell good. He smelled luxurious, expensive.
I glanced over at him as I swallowed.
When the male bartender started walking our way, he tugged down on his dark blue fitted cap. I couldn’t get a good look at his face, but he smelled like he looked good.
I shifted my eyes so he wouldn’t catch me staring. Popping a fry into my mouth, I turned my attention back to the game.
The bartender took the man’s order as I minded my business.
“Wasps or Monarchs?” the man asked.
I looked over at him to see if he was talking to me, and he was watching the instant replay.
“Wasps or Monarchs?” he repeated.
“Monarchs,” I answered, staring at his profile.
