Whatcha thinking?” asked the bartender, wiping down the counter.
She had blond hair, a tattoo of a rose on her wrist, and hot-pink lipstick.
Pretty. Her name was Liz.
I looked over the menu she’d handed me. “What’s good?” I asked, not loving the options. Almost everything was fried.
“The chili’s homemade,” she offered.
I twisted my lips. “I don’t really love chili.”
The fog outside had gotten so bad, I knew I wouldn’t be able to make it home before the need to eat and use a restroom got desperate. The only gas station in town had been closed, so I couldn’t use the bathroom or grab a snack. Google kindly directed me to the one open place within fifty miles— the VFW that Truck Guy had mentioned.
The place was—worn. The tables were mismatched with cheap chairs. There were broken vintage-looking beer signs on the walls, along with framed medals and black-and-white pictures of veterans. “Bennie and the Jets” blared from an old jukebox against the wall. A huge deer head was mounted over the bar with rainbow Christmas lights strung through its antlers. It was all very tired and junky. I couldn’t imagine being in here under any other circumstances, not in a million years.
A very pregnant young woman came up next to Liz and swiped a key card into the register with a hand on her lower back.
“Heading out, Hannah?” Liz asked, pouring an IPA from the tap.
“Yeah.” She grimaced. “The baby’s got a foot right on my bladder.”
“I’ll put your tips in the office,” Liz said. Then she looked back at me. “It’s too bad you didn’t drive through before the diner closed up for the night. Pickings are kinda slim until it’s summer and the tourists come back.”
“Tourists?” I asked.
“Yeah. We’re on the Root River. Plus, we’re only a two-hour drive from the Twin Cities, so we get a lot of weekend warriors. Right now, though, it’s just the townies. And they’re all here. Alllll three hundred and fifty of us.” She laughed, nodding at the packed bar.
I pivoted on my stool. It was true. There wasn’t an empty seat in the whole place.
As I scanned the crowd, I spotted the guy who’d towed me out, over by the pool table.
He really was cute.
Now that his jacket was off, I could see he had a nice body too. He had that rugged lumberjack thing going on. Beard, dark brown hair, hazel eyes, dimples. Tall. He wore a flannel and jeans. His sleeves were rolled up and he had colorful tattoos on both forearms.
I turned away before he noticed me looking.
A bell chimed, and Liz looked up over my head. Something nervous flickered across her face, but she smiled. I turned to follow her gaze. A police officer was coming in—a handsome one. He was tall, well over six feet. Brown eyes, thick brown hair. A fit body pressed against his tan sheriff’s uniform. A gun sat holstered on his hip, and a gold badge was pinned to his chest. He wore a wedding band.
“Hey, baby.” Liz smiled at him as he came around the counter. He leaned in and planted a kiss on her. A few people whistled.
He tipped up her chin. “I brought your sweater,” he said, speaking to her eyes. He put a bundle of white fabric into her hands. “You left it in the cruiser.”
“That’s so sweet.” Liz looked down at it. “Oh, Jake, this is…” She stopped, realizing I’d never told her my name. Jake turned to me and seemed to notice me for the first time.
“Alexis,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Welcome to Wakan.” He pronounced it wah-kahn. “I gotta get going,” he said to his wife. “I’ll be here to get you at midnight.” He kissed her and tipped his head at me before leaving.
I puffed air from my cheeks and looked back at the menu. I was considering leaving without ordering. Nothing looked good. “So besides the chili, what else should I try?” I asked.
“Hey,” a male voice said, coming up behind me, talking to Liz. “I need to close out my tab.”
I glanced up. It was Truck Guy.
Liz smiled at him. “Turning in early, huh?”
“I have to feed the kid,” he said. Then he turned to me and smiled. “Hi.” “Hello,” I said, moving to face him. “We meet again.”
“And under much better circumstances,” he said.
I smiled. “Thank you for earlier. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I think I did.” He nodded at a man at the end of the bar, looking red- eyed and disheveled with seven empty beer glasses in front of him. “That was your knight in shining tow truck.”
I sucked air through my teeth. “I would have been there all night.” “Nah, one of us would have stopped. Five or six hours, tops.”
I laughed, and he smiled at me. “I’m Daniel.” He offered me a hand. “Alexis,” I said, taking it. His palm was rough and warm.
“I think I should give you a heads-up,” he said, giving me back my hand and leaning on the bar. “You see those guys over there?” He nodded to three men huddled around the pool table. “They have a bet going that they can get you to leave with one of them.”
Liz made a groaning noise from behind the register. “They’re such assholes,” she muttered, swiping his card. “Brian too?” she asked.
“Nah, just Mike and Doug.” He pointed. “You see the guy with the glasses?” he said to me.
I twisted in my stool to look over at the men. “Yeah…” “Questionable rash.”
I snorted and Liz let out a laugh.
“The tall white guy in the Carhartt jacket lives in his mom’s basement,” he said, going on. The sandy blond man was grinning in our direction and waving. “In about five minutes he’s going to procure a guitar from somewhere.” He looked at me. “He’s going to play ‘More Than Words’ by Extreme and he’s going to do it very, very badly.”
Liz was laughing as she slid his charge draft in front of him. “It’s true.
God, why is it true.”
While he signed his receipt, I glanced at it. It was only ten dollars, but he left a ten-dollar tip. He flipped it upside down and pushed away from the bar. “Anyway, good luck.” He started for the exit.
“Wait,” I said after him.
He stopped and looked back at me. “How much are they betting?”
He shrugged, pulling out his keys. “A hundred bucks.” “And what about you? You’re not in on this bet?”
He shook his head. “That’s not my thing.”
“No? Well, what if I left with you? Would you win the money?”
He wrinkled his forehead at me. “I don’t follow.”
“I think I’m going to leave anyway. You could walk out with me. Win the bet.”
He smiled. “You’d do that?” I shrugged. “Sure.”
He glanced over at the men across the room. Carhartt Jacket was holding a guitar.
Daniel’s eyes came back to mine, and a smile played at the corners of his lips. “If we do it, we split the money.”
I turned to Liz. “Liz, on a scale from one to serial killer, how dangerous is this man? Am I safe to walk out into a dark parking lot with him?”
She smiled. “Daniel is the only guy I’d leave this bar with.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he said. “You’re my cousin.” She laughed. “He’s harmless.”
“And he’ll keep up his end of the bargain and pay me?” I asked.
She dried a tumbler with a rag. “Even if those idiots don’t keep up their end of the bargain and pay him, he’ll pay you. It’s the kind of person he is.”
I looked back at Daniel, and he shrugged. “I’m not an asshole. It’s my favorite thing about myself.”
I felt my smile reach my eyes. He was funny.
“Okay,” I said. “We have a deal.” I nodded at the barstool next to me. “But sit and talk to me for a bit. Otherwise they won’t believe you wooed me.”
He looked at his watch. Then he seemed to decide he had time and took a seat.
“So, tell me about yourself,” I said. “What do you do?” “I’m a property manager,” he said.
Liz laughed from behind the counter where she was pouring beer from the tap. “He’s the mayor.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Wow, the mayor?”
He gave her a look. “It’s more of an honorary title. This is a small town.
My duties are very minimal.”
Liz shook her head. “He’s being humble. He’s sort of everything around here. Calls bingo on Saturday nights, volunteer firefighter. He’s even Santa.” She nodded to one of the framed articles above the cash register.
Santa Comes to Wakan.
The article was accompanied by a color photo of a fat Santa Claus with a little boy on his knee.
I looked back at him with a smile, and he changed the subject. “And what do you do?”
I shrugged. “Nothing worth mentioning.”
I didn’t like giving out my personal information to a stranger. He didn’t push it.
“Okay,” he said. “And what brings you to Wakan?” “I’m coming from a funeral.”
His face went serious. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Aunt Lil was ninety-eight, and she had a very good life. Many lovers, as she liked to say.”
He smiled.
“I live in Minneapolis. I’m just driving through. Hey, is it always this foggy out here?”
“There’s fog outside?” Liz asked, looking surprised. Daniel shook his head. “Never. It’s weird, actually.” “Huh. So you have a kid?” I asked.
He looked at his watch again. “I do. Chloe.”
“How old?” “One week.”
“Oh,” I said, pulling my face back in surprise. “She’s little.”
He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring—not that that meant anything. He could have a kid without being married.
“So you have a girlfriend?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have taken this wager if I did.” “Well, you’re not actually taking me home,” I pointed out.
“But I’m pretending to. I wouldn’t disrespect my theoretical girlfriend.” He grinned.
I had to stifle a smile. “So you’re not with your baby’s mother?” He looked amused. “Definitely not. I’m fostering.”
Liz smiled. “Chloe is soooo cute. He’s such a good daddy to her.” She nodded at him. “Show her a picture.”
He pulled out his phone and swiped. Then he held it out to me.
A laugh burst from my lips. “Your kid is a baby goat? In pajamas?”
“She is. She goes home in a few weeks. She belongs to Doug. The guitar guy. Mom has mastitis and Doug couldn’t do middle-of-the-night feedings, so I volunteered to help.”
“So let me get this straight,” I said, crossing my legs. “Doug is trying to seduce me with a poorly sung version of ‘More Than Words’ when he has an entire baby goat? If you have a baby goat, you always lead with ‘I have a baby goat.’”
He chuckled. “Technically I have the baby goat.”
Liz put ice into a tumbler. “I keep telling him his Tinder profile could be nothing but a picture of Chloe and an address.”
I laughed.
Daniel smiled and nodded over his shoulder. “Are they watching us?” he asked.
My eyes flickered over to the pool table. “Oh, yes.” I looked back at him. “Carhartt Jacket Doug is tuning his guitar. So how much time do you think we have until I’m serenaded?”
“I’d say another minute or two.”
“Okay.” I leaned forward. “I’m going to pretend that you just said something really funny and I’m going to laugh. Then we can wrap this up.”
He put a hand to his chin. “What kind of laugh?” “What kind?”
“Yeah. In theory whatever I’m saying to you has to be good enough to make you leave with me after only knowing me for five minutes. It’s going to have to look pretty convincing. I’m thinking Julia Roberts?”
This actually did make me laugh, which made him laugh—and it was adorable. His warm golden-green eyes creased at the corners and it lit his whole face.
God, he had a nice smile. Really nice. Something about it darted me right in the heart, took a little of my breath away.
We sat there, still cracking up, and I found myself biting my lip and leaning into him a little, and I realized with shock that I was flirting. Like, actually flirting, not pretending.
I’d been with Neil seven years. I thought Neil would be the last man I’d ever be with. Then I’d broken up with him and I told myself that I was done. No more men. I didn’t need one. I didn’t need the hassle. I completely rejected the idea of dating ever again. I’d bought a very nice vibrator and I’d retired myself from the pool at thirty-seven. Zero interest.
And now I was flirting.
It was like finding out a plant you killed was alive after all and just needed water.
“Uh-oh, Doug’s coming,” Liz whispered.
I tore my gaze away from Daniel. Doug had begun weaving his way through high-top tables toward the bar, guitar in hand.
“Time to go,” Daniel said.
Then he took my hand, helped me down from the barstool, and walked me out.
