Straight Up Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 2)
“Sure thing.” Then she heads out of my bar.
After the front door swings closed behind her, I push out into the dining area and stand at the window. The sidewalks are lined with people enjoying the perfect weather, but I spot Ava instantly. Her hips shift side to side as she heads down the block to Howell’s. I breathe through the tightening knots in my stomach and start counting down the seconds until I get that text.
Ava
Only Ellie would think that blind dates that begin with shots of alcohol would be the best way to find myself a future baby-daddy. But even if I think she’s out of her mind, I’m determined to make the best of this, and that means I need to follow the rules.
Step One: show up.
Step Two: drain my shot like a good girl.
I twist my purse strap in my hand as I walk up to the bar. Time to pick my poison.
The bartender scans a paper in front of her, taps it, then grins at me. “I see you’re here for Straight Up Casual. Good for you, Ava.”
“How have you been?” I recognize her from high school—she was a year or two ahead of me, and nice enough, but I can’t remember her name. Small-town problems.
She waves a hand. “Living a dream. What can I get you?”
“Patrón?” Tequila’s always been a bit of a happy drink for me, and a little mood booster can’t hurt, given how nervous I am about my first date in . . . Well, let’s not put a number on it. I’ll just have to limit myself. Tequila is really good at making me think I should have more tequila, and the last thing I need is to get drunk tonight.
“Bold choice.” She pours a shot and hands it to me across the bar. I shoot it back fast, and she laughs. “Should I make that a double?”
I grimace. Shit, that burns. “No, one shot is more than enough for me.”
“Anything else while you wait for your date?”
My date. Oh, hell. I’m so bad at this. Maybe I should have made it a double. “How about a margarita?”
“Rocks and salt?”
I nod and watch, mute with nerves, as she shakes it up.
“Over there,” she says when she slides my drink across the bar. She points to a small round table in the back corner. There’s a small Straight Up Casual sign on it—because this wouldn’t be embarrassing enough if everyone didn’t know what I was doing here. “You’re a little early, but I’ll send your date your way when he gets here.”
“Thanks.” I start to walk away.
“Ava,” she says, and I stop. “Relax. You look fucking hot.”
“Thank you.” Whether I want them to or not, her words boost my confidence and make me walk a little taller on my way to the table.
I put down my drink and slide onto my chair, crossing my legs at the knee. I grab my phone from my purse, then think better of it and slide it back in. I don’t want to look aloof when my date arrives.
Across the bar, Mr. Mooney, the Windsor Prep principal, is walking toward my table. Shit. My gaze lands on the Straight Up Casual sign in front of me and I wilt. Great.
I take a long pull from my drink. Because now it’s necessary.
“Miss McKinley?” he says, stopping at my table. “I believe you’re my date.”
I cough on my drink and spray my boss with margarita. “Shit! I mean, shoot! I mean . . .” Standing, I grab napkins from the table and awkwardly shove them in my boss’s direction. “I’m so sorry. You took me by surprise.”
He gives me a slow, amused shake of his head as he dabs at his shirt with the napkins. I can honestly say this is the first time since I met him t
hat I’ve felt anything but small when he directed his smile at me. “Relax, Ava. I’m surprised by this too.”
Mr. Mooney is a handsome man. He’s tall, with a runner’s build, and is always dressed impeccably. Tonight, he has on a dark blue button-up shirt that’s tucked into his jeans and is unbuttoned at the top, and his blue eyes seem softer than usual.
“Sit down, please.” He sets his beer on the table.