Page 36 of Center Sneak

The sun is starting to set, with the sky filling with a beautiful hue of orange. Unfortunately, the temperature in the car has been dropping along with the light.

“Yeah, okay. It’s probably a good idea,” I concede, as my stomach grumbles.

We exit the car and walk a block and a half to discover the aptly named Around the Corner Inn and Restaurant.

I point to the sign. “Guess you didn’t lie about the convenience.”

“I rarely lie.” His eyes drill into me as he opens the wooden door to the restaurant for me, and I stumble in.

There’s a large entryway with a staircase to the right, pointing hotel patrons to check in upstairs, and a sign to the left pointing restaurant patrons to walk around the corner, which we do.

The walls are covered in white shiplap, with anchors, buoys, and other nautical elements highlighting the walls. The bar top is wooden, and we grab two white stools.

There are only two people sitting at the other end of the bar and a few people scattered throughout the restaurant. It’s quiet, especially so for a Saturday night at seven, but it is off-season down on the Cape now.

The bartender hands us two menus. “What will you be having?”

Calvin punts to me first to answer.

I rarely drink, especially when I’m in unfamiliar environments, but today has been a day. Plus, I’m here with Calvin. I kind of trust him, even when he pisses me off.

“I’ll have a whiskey and Coke.”

“Make that two,” he says with a gravelly voice.

I glance over in his direction. A smile tugs at his lips as our eyes collide for the first time in hours, and I can’t look away.

He looks handsome and rugged, sitting on a small barstool, his large shoulders taking up a lot of space.

A knitted black beanie sits on his head, which he put on sometime during our chilly wait in the car. He grabs the beanie, pulls it off his head, and drops it down on the bar. He rubs a hand over his bare head like he’s fixing his hair. Nothing happens. His hair, or lack of it, stays exactly in place with a small shine to his head.

He moves his fingers down to his full beard, combing his light blond scruff.

I wish I were his fingers right now.

Where did that thought come from?

I take a sip of the whiskey and Coke that magically appeared, and then another.

“Cheers,” Calvin says as we clink our glasses in the air together, before he brings the glass to his mouth.

“Have you heard back from the tow company yet?”

He peeks down at his phone as he releases a heavy exhale. “Nothing,” he mutters as he flips his phone in the opposite direction like he wants nothing to do with the stupid thing. “You would think they’d at least give the correct estimate,” he mumbles.

“You would think,” I add as I take another sip, trying to hide my knowing smirk. It’s been at least seventy-five minutes now—double the promised time.

His fingers tap the bar top, and his knee is bouncing underneath the table.

“I’m sorry about this,” I blurt. “The last thing you want is to be stuck with your best friend’s sister.”

He clutches his hand over his heart. “Ouch. Are we not friends?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t. Explain it to me.” His bright brown eyes plead with me.

“You are friends with Sebastian.”