"This is..." Piper hesitated, clearly searching for the right word as she adjusted the collar of her blouse, still looking every inch the polished professional he really wanted to see relax, not rush.
"Not quite what you expected?" Zach offered with a hint of amusement playing across his features.
She nodded, seeming slightly uncomfortable as she surveyed the room.
"It's got character," she finally said, her posture still rigid.
Zach leaned in slightly. "You're allowed to relax, you know. No clipboard police here."
Something in his gentle teasing seemed to reach her. Piper took a deep breath, removed her tailored blazer and draped it over her arm. With a determined motion, she pulled the elastic from her hair, letting it cascade in waves around her shoulders. The transformation was subtle but immediate—like watching a tightly wound spring uncoil slowly.
"Better?" she asked, a challenge in her eyes.
"Much," Zach said, his gaze lingering perhaps a second longer than strictly necessary. "Come on, let's grab a booth."
In the corner, a four-piece band was setting up equipment. The guitarist tuned strings while the drummer assembled his kit. The crowd was diverse with professionals unwinding after work mingling with tattooed artists, college students, and neighborhood regulars. Above the well-worn bar, neon signs advertised various beers alongside quirky slogans that had probably hung there for decades.
Zach led the way through the crowd, with Piper trailing behind him. He nodded at a couple of guys he knew as they hollered greetings, threw up a hand for a quick high five here, bumping fists there.
Piper carried herself like she was on a site visit. Out here, he was in his element. Piper? Piper was learning the room.
"Zach, my man," Brek, the owner and bartender with a closely trimmed beard and sleeve tattoos, called out. "The usual?"
"Yup," Zach replied, gesturing toward Piper. "And anything the lady would like."
"I'll have a whiskey sour," Piper said.
The slight hesitation in her voice didn't go unnoticed, but he said nothing.
They slid into a high-backed booth with worn leather seats that had seen decades of patrons. The table between them bore the scars of countless beer glasses, carved initials, and what looked like a decade's worth of spilled drinks.
"This is your natural habitat, then," Piper observed, running her finger over a heart carved into the wood.
"One of them," Zach admitted with an easy smile. "I like places with stories. Every scratch on this table happened because someone was living their life. They were having a great night or a terrible one, celebrating or commiserating."
Piper looked around with new appreciation. "I don't usually frequent places with quite so much... living."
"Corporate events not known for their wild parties?" Zach teased.
"Unless you count enthusiastic karaoke at holiday parties..."
Zach nearly choked on his water. "Please tell me you take videos."
"A professional never reveals her secrets," she replied primly, but her smile gave her away.
Brek arrived with their drinks, sliding them across the table with practiced ease. "So, you finally bringing someone to meet the crew, Dvornakov? About time."
Piper twisted a strand of hair between her fingertips, slightly ducking her head.
"Brek, this is Piper. She's planning Anna's wedding," Zach clarified.
"Ah, wedding planner Piper?" Brek nodded knowingly. "Aspen's told me about you. She thinks you're the shit."
"Oh?" Piper didn't seem to know what to do with that.
"Noah was just asking about you, Zach. Said you're working on something big with the Stallions?"
Zach nodded. "Big stuff happening, man."
