“Tradition,” she repeats, like it’s a new word in her vocabulary. Like she doesn’t quite believe he’s used it in the correct context. Like anything except her beloved town events can qualify as such a thing. Her eyes meet mine for a split second.
“That’s right,” Rich continues. “No place else I’d rather be tonight, right, Jay?”
“No matter how hard I try to keep you away, Rich,” I say with a chuckle.
“Been coming here since Jay opened the place.” Rich grins. “Best damn beer in the mountains.”
Hollis doesn’t hide her shock. “Opened it?”
Saw that coming.
I say nothing, letting the smile tugging at my lips do the talking as I wipe drink rings off the bar with a rag. Rich chuckles, oblivious, gesturing with his beer before returning to his table.
“Explains so much,” she says, fighting a smile as she leans a hip against the bar next to me.
“Like?”
“The staff.”
With a slight laugh, I drape the rag I’ve been using over the edge of the sink as the band starts a rendition of “Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She regards the brewery again. “It’s incredible.”
I face her fully, mirroring her by leaning a hip against the bar. “You didn’t ask.”
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “Either way, it’s nice.”
“Thanks,” I say, glancing around the familiar room again. “Took a lot of work.” My brows lift. “And you were good tonight.You’ll have to include beertending on your list of skills to your date.”
I expect a laugh, but instead she levels me with a glare, abruptly moving away from me to scrub the bar I just cleaned then rearrange glasses until they look exactly the way they did when she started. When I think she’s done, she drinks an entire glass of water.
“Is everything?—”
“Fine,” she snaps. She wipes her mouth and refills the glass, stilling it before it reaches her mouth when she catches me watching. “I’m thirsty because I’m distracted by my pending plans with the internet.”
“Okay.” Sothisis the game we’re playing. “I didn’t think you’d follow through.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she demands. “A lot of people feel more comfortable with strangers on the internet. There’s a name for it. I wrote an article about it once. It’s called online disinhibition effect. People are emboldened by the anonymity of it. Acting emboldened. And doing things emboldenedly.”
Judging by her grimace, that is not a word.
“And you’re more comfortable with internet strangers?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well you don’t know them and they’re sending you dick pics.”
“Maybe I like the pictures.”
“Do you?”
She huffs. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t be going out with someone.”
I stroke my mustache. “Did you send them pictures back?”
Her eyes widen; I fight a laugh.
“No?” I feign deep consideration. “Maybe you should.”
