Page 14 of Falling For You

The first night, I couldn't stay home.

Everything was unpacked. Shelves organized, bed made, kitchen stocked. The place was ready but I wasn't ready to sit in it yet.

I walked the block looking for somewhere to eat. There was a bar on the next street over that looked like it had been there longer than most of the buildings around it. I pulled the door open and walked in.

Inside, the place was lived-in. A long counter, tables near the windows with small flower arrangements on them, framed photos covering one wall. A young man was wiping down the counter when I came in. He had glasses and a steady calm about him that made him seem older than he probably was.

"Welcome to The Lantern!" He tossed the rag over his shoulder and grabbed a menu. "Are you sitting at the bar or do you want a booth?"

"The bar's fine."

He set the menu and a glass of water in front of me. "I'm Terrence. Just call me when you're ready to order."

"Thanks, Terrence."

The older man at the other end of the bar put down the glass he'd been drying and walked over. He was maybe sixty, stocky, with the face of someone who'd been greeting people for years and hadn't run out of warmth yet.

"New face." He set a napkin in front of me. "I'm Gus. This is my place."

"It's nice to meet you, Gus. I'm Andy."

"Andy. You're new to the neighborhood."

"How can you tell?"

"I know everyone on this block." He picked up the glass he'd set down and went back to drying it.

"Does the whole neighborhood come to your bar?"

"Not everyone. But most of them do." He smiled. "The ones that matter."

I laughed. I didn't mean to, but it came out before I could catch it.

"We open at eleven, close at one on weeknights, later on weekends." He leaned on the counter. "Do you work late?"

"Depends on the shift."

"Ah, shift work." He nodded. "Let me guess what you do."

"Alright, take a shot at it."

He studied me for a second. "First responder. I'd put money on it." He put a finger to his chin. "Nurse?"

"No."

"Dispatcher?"

"No."

"…Firefighter?"

"No, I'm a patrol officer."

"A cop!" His face lit up. "Isn't that a difficult job? In Las Vegas, no less?"

"Most days. But I like what I do. I'm hoping to make detective, so I'm putting in the time in patrol for the qualifications."

"How many more years do you need?"