Page 2 of Play the Last Card

Finally, he meets my gaze. Another small shiver rolls down my spine as a chill spreads up my arms and I fight off the urge to shake them out.

“No.”

“So, you just moved here?” I ask, studying him. My eyes linger on the shadow of a beard growing. I wonder what he looks like with the beard fully grown out? I imagine it only adds to the appeal. The ruggedness of him. A tall, wide man with a full beard. I think he would look good with a full beard. Although, it would probably hide that jawline of his, and that would be a shame.

His eyebrows crease, long lashes framing the green of his eyes and deepening the color just a little. He cocks his head to the side and frowns, clearing his throat.

Shit.

I’m staring.

“Yes. That would be the definition of me not being from around here,” he replies in the same low, gruff tone.

“You could be just visiting.” I shrug. I could walk away, Ishouldwalk away. There are a few glasses that could go through the wash, missing bottles of beer to be refilled in the fridge. I have things to do before we close. I don’t have to stay and chat with this guy.

Yet the puzzle pieces still aren’t making sense and I can’t shake the feeling that I know him from somewhere. I hesitate for a second. “You look familiar.”

It’s his turn to study me and with his gaze the beginnings of a flush burn at the nape of my neck. I take a subtle deep breath, willing the heat to stay off my face. The corners of his eyes begin to tighten, fingers reaching to clutch the untouched glass of water in front of him before he says, “Hazard of the job, I guess.”

“Oh?” I shuffle through my memories, searching for him. He isn’t a teacher at the school. Unless he is new? No, I don’t think they’ve hired this year for the junior school. I haven’t seen him around the bar before, nor around the hospital and I don’t spend my time anywhere else these days. I press on, my curiosity winning out over my politeness.

“What do you do?”

“I—” He goes to answer but something in his eyes shift as if he’s only just realizing what I’m asking him and a gleam of joy flashes through the small cracks of his stoic mask. “Nothing important. I work across the road.”

“For the Broncos?” I lean on the bar toward him, wanting to figure him out and trying my best to do so before I scare him off.

I’m curious. Sue me.

He’s a mystery and the only thing I want at this moment is to figure him out. Eagerness be damned.

“You could say that,” he answers. My heart skips a little as his fingers drum along the bar top again.

“Oh, well, you’ll be a new regular then I expect. They all come over here during the week from what I’m told. And during home games, the bar is packed with fans.” I wave a hand lazily around the bar.

“You’re told? This is your first shift?” he asks. I bite down a smile. Good, I’ve got him curious too. Curious about me, maybe. Hopefully. My stomach flips and something flutters lightly in my chest.

I ignore the feeling though, tugging the cloth from my back pocket to run it over the bar.

It’s cliché as hell but whatever.

I need a distraction from the butterflies suddenly roaming around inside me.

“My friend’s parents own the bar. I only really work on weekends when they need help.” I drop my gaze to the mahogany bar top, the flush creeping even higher up my neck without permission. “I’m actually a kindergarten teacher.”

“Bit of a change. Toddlers to drunk adults.”

“You’d think so, but not so much in my experience.” I curl my fingers into the cleaning rag, sweeping it across the bar top again. “They’re more similar than you’d think.”

As if on cue to prove my point, a bunch of rowdy guys stumble through the door. One of them wears an off-white, stained withbeer wedding dress. The others don t-shirts with a drunken photo enlarged—of what I assume to be the groom—and printed on each one.Great.I drop my head, rolling my shoulders back. So much for an easy, quiet afternoon. I was hoping for a story or two with Doug, an opportunity to pull out my school work and plan some lessons for the kids so I was well and truly ahead before the school year starts.

“Ah.” The familiar man’s eyes follow mine, his jaw tightening as he watches the group loudly decide on a round of shots. He shoves the cap back onto his head, pulling it as far down over his face as it will go. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“Oh.” My chest tightens. I didn’t want him to go. “Well, it was nice to meet you …”

“Scott.” He fills in for me.

I beam, holding out my hand across the bar. “Ivy.”