Page 9 of When the Walls Come Down
I could prove I wasn’t in a rut or a slump.
So I did something I rarely did. I waited for Chris to make his way back down the length of the mahogany bar top to me instead of just slipping out.
He tossed the white bar towel over his shoulder and said, “Thanks for the tip, Shane.”
I leaned over the counter and kept my voice low. “Hey, do you know her?”
“The blonde?” He gestured to where she was sitting, closer to the door. “No. She said she just moved to town and heard Two Ships was good. Said she’d risk it and find out for herself.”
A risk taker, eh? Just like me. They’d call me Mr. Risk from here on out.
I had one thing going for me though. She was new in town, and I knew exactly what that was like.
Was it creepy as hell to just walk over and say hi?
It had been so damn long since someone had even caught my eye. Then again, I’d had my head down for so long that I probably just hadn’t been paying attention. But I supposed while I was at this whole new moving-forward mode, there was no time like the present to…what? Introduce myself? Buy her a drink? Recommend something on the menu?
Maybe it wasn’t a good idea.
But God, she was beautiful. All dressed up, and by herself. Probably meeting someone. Who the fuck would keep her waiting? I knew I should leave her the hell alone. Just because she was a woman out enjoying herself, that didn’t give me liberty to interject myself into her night. Right?
Those thoughts sounded a hell of a lot like the old Shane. The basement Shane. If I was going to prove to my family I wasn’t that guy anymore, I sure as hell needed to prove it to myself first.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Am I a man or not?
Here goes fucking nothing.
Take a risk, my ass. I’d fucking show Casey and Blake a damn risk.
I marched down to where she was sitting. “Hi, I’m Shane.”
She looked shocked, maybe a little startled by my approach—and rightly so. I’d stalked over like the fucking Terminator, all amped up from my private pep talk.
“The bartender, Chris, said you’re new in town, and it’s your first time here.”
Her sparkling blue eyes stood out against her makeup, and now—standing close to her—I could smell her perfume. A subtle and warm scent that made me want to lean in.
What the fuck had I been thinking?
To put it mildly, she was out of my league, but hey… Risks, right?
“If you’re dining alone, would you mind if I offer a suggestion from the menu?”
“I was only looking it over out of curiosity. I really just came in for a drink or two.” She folded it and placed it on the wooden top in front of her.
Goddamn, that cleavage.
“Oh. Yeah. Okay. Well, then…uh…let me get one for you.” I might have strutted over like the Terminator, but I was fumbling over my words like Barney Fife and beginning to sweat like a Crossfitter.
Her brows bunched. “Um, you really don’t have to do that.”
“Please. After the day I’ve had, I’ll actually have one with you.” I swiped at the back of my neck. “The drinks are good here. Very cold. Wet.” Jesus fucking Christ, Shane. Wet?! “Um. Alcoholic, if that’s what you’re into.” I waved Chris—and his bigger-than-life shit-eating grin—down to us.
“Find something you’d like?” he asked her.
“I’ll just have a Titos and cranberry,” she answered. “I hear they’re very cold and wet here.”
Chris looked at me disappointedly, probably guessing at how badly I’d botched this introduction. He wasn’t wrong, but she hadn’t told me to fuck off yet.
Yet.
“And I’ll take a Honeybee Brown,” I added, straddling the stool beside her.
He spun on his heel, shocked. “Really?”
I shrugged and shot daggers at him. “Really. A pint, please.”
“A cold, wet one too, eh? Okay, man. Coming right up.” He made our drinks and then about a dozen more for the servers who were keeping him busy.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said, clinking our glasses together, her eyes never quite meeting mine.
“Yeah. Sure. No problem.” I followed her lead and took a sip.
“So, do you come here a lot, Shane?”
My name on her lips had me clearing my throat.
“Yes,” replied our asshole bartender before I could answer.
“I live close,” I explained, and she nodded in understanding. “So, where did you come to the Bay from?” I took another sip, realizing that counting the beer I’d had with Casey earlier and this one, I was nearing my only-a-few-drinks daily limit. So I’d be savoring the pint as long as she didn’t seem too put off by my dusty-ass small talk. Otherwise, I could chug it down and then be on my merry way, leaving her to enjoy her night without a divorced, practically fired dude bugging her.
