She quirks her lips. “You don’t have to pay for them. We can share.”
“Cool.” I take a big cheesy one and stuff it in my mouth. Around the bite, I say, “I decided since they were there and I have a beer, I could tell you about my scar.”
“I don’t have a beer, though,” she says, leaning back in the chair so she is facing me. “Should I order one?”
“You drink beer?”
“I do.”
I don’t know why her answer surprises me.
She moves to hold up her hand to call the bartender over, but I grab her wrist, bringing it back down to the bar. The heat from her skin jolts up my hand, and when she looks back at me, I’m breathless at the way her mouth parts. With a shaky voice, I say, “I got you.” I release her hand and order her a beer. The one I’m drinking. “It’s real hoppy. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. I usually go on craft beer tours with my dad,” she says before bringing the beer to her lips. I watch as she takes a hearty swig and then smiles at me. “It’s good.”
Why am I proud of myself?
Because you bought the girl you’ve been crushing on for over a week a beer.
Great, now I’m talking to myself.
I clear my throat. “I was eighteen when this happened,” I say then, meeting her gaze and running my finger along the jagged scar. “This dude decided he was going to slap my mom’s ass at a bar, and I lost my cool. She was a bartender there, so she was used to it, but it pissed me the hell off and I pushed him. He broke a bottle and stabbed me with it.”
Her eyes widen. “Jesus. That’s intense.”
“Yeah, but you should have seen him. I broke his nose, his jaw, and his wrist. Then my mom kicked my ass.” She grins as I chuckle lightly. “She’s a tough chick.”
“Does she live here?”
“No, back in Chicago.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
“Born and raised.”
She nods. “I’ve only lived here. I love it. Do you?”
“I do,” I say before taking a long pull of my beer. “I like it a lot. I’m trying to get her to move here, but she is set in her ways. She lives in a little community of thriving over-fifty-year-olds. They play card games and have ice cream socials. She loves it.”
“I would too. I love card games and ice cream.”
I laugh. “Me too. I kick ass at rummy.”
She scoffs. “You couldn’t kick my ass.”
I eye her, and I love how confident she is. “Is that a challenge, Posey Adler?”
“I think it is,” she says, leaning on the bar. “Hey, Paulie, can you hand me that deck of cards?”
“Sure thing, Posey.”
Once they’re in her hands, she shuffles them like a damn dealer in Las Vegas. She grins at my wide eyes. “This is all we played when we would travel for hockey.”
“Funny. Us too.”
She looks up at me through her lashes, and my heart skips a fucking beat. I swear, it does.
She deals the cards, and we get started. We discuss travel hockey, and it surprises me that we ran in the same circles but never saw each other. Even with her being in the female league, I feel I should have met her. The first game, she wins. But the second, I do. As she deals the third, she gives me a sneaky little look. “I let you win that.”
I scoff. “You don’t let anyone win anything.” She chuckles softly, and I ask, “Who was that girl here with you?”
Her eyes cut to mine, and a look comes across her face. Almost like disappointment. It’s odd, but she answers, “My cousin Ally.”
I lay down a card. “Oh, okay. That’s cool.”
She is still staring at me with that expression on her face. “Why? Interested?”
I jerk my head back, and then I shake it. “No, not at all.”
“Oh.” She looks away quickly.
I’m confused. Does she not know I’m interested in her?
She lays down a card, but before I can do the same, someone calls her name.
“Posey, why are you ignoring my calls?”
I look up at Aiden’s little sister; I forget her name. Wes is digging her, though, and I don’t blame him. She’s real pretty. I look at Posey, and I can tell she clearly does not want to see this girl. “Stella, I’m sorry. I’ve been incredibly busy.”
Stella leans on the bar. “Listen, I was calling to apologize—”
Posey shakes her head. “Really, you don’t have to do that.”
“I do,” she insists, and I look between them. “I was trying to get it out of him why you came up there, and he finally told me. I dumped his ass right then. I’m sorry. I never knew you felt like that, or I wouldn’t have been with him. Please don’t hate me.”