Page 21 of Best I Never Had

I turn back toward the bartender. “And a vodka cranberry,” I add, placing my phone that’s in my hand on the countertop.

He turns away, making drinks as the clinking of glass and thin metal from the cocktail shaker already in his hands keep him busy.

“What have you been up to?” I ask, my hands leaning against the edge of the bar.

She shrugs. “Nothing, just busy with work.” She pauses, taking a small sip of her drink. “Carmen’s working the night shift, so I thought I could use some company.”

“Does she usually not?”

“No. She took on some extra shifts cause they’re short-staffed at the hospital,” she answers with a small sigh. “It gets a little lonely at home by myself. And not to mention, a little scary.”

I smirk, teasingly raising a brow. “Scared of the dark, are we?”

“Yes,” she says, omitting an obviousduhwith her answer. “You never know what’s lurking behind the shadows.”

We’re interrupted by the arrival of our drinks as the bartender places them on top of small cocktail napkins in front of us. Natalia slurps her drink in her hand, the straw sucking up the rest of the contents and leaving behind melting ice cubes before she moves on to the fresh one in front of her.

I tilt my head back, glugging my beer as I keep my eyes on Natalia. She smiles at me. A smile that doesn’t reach her eyes before it shifts, widening as she leans in toward me. And then I see it, that little dip her nose does when her smile grows bigger.

“You smell like pastries.”

Her observation draws a small chuckle out of me. “I spent most of the day making fruit tarts and chocolate mousse.”

She hums softly. “That sounds like heaven.” And then she narrows her eyes and chews on her lower lip, as if she’s holding back a secret or an unexpected thought.

“What?” I ask, taking another quick swig of my beer.

“I remember you baking in high school.”

“Oh,” I huff awkwardly.

“And now you do it for a living.”

I nod, feeling suddenly shy while remembering those moments filling the small kitchen in my home. “Yeah,” I finally whisper.

“Do you ever want to open your own restaurant?”

I bob my head between my shoulders while my fingers toy with the neck of my beer bottle. “Eventually,” I answer. “But I gotta work my way up. It’s part of my five-year plan.”

My phone pings on the bar top, interrupting our conversation as the loud twanging of a taut string on a bow rings loudly and the image of a cupid silhouette fills the icon box next to the alert. I move quickly to lock the screen and shove my phone into my pocket. Natalia’s brows rise in curious amusement when I glance over at her, and I know what’s coming next.

“What was that?”

I hesitate, embarrassed that the level of my singleness is about to be so open and clear. “A Cupid’s Bet alert.”

“Cupid’s Bet?” she repeats.

I nod.

“Is that like…a hook-up app?”

I grimace slightly. “Adatingapp,” I correct her.

Her eyes widen with a suppressed smile. “Oh, I’m sorry to offend you. A ‘dating app,’” she retorts, sarcasm dripping through her words.

“Hey,” I argue. “Don’t judge me on my dating life.”

“I’m not judging,” she says innocently. “I just didn’t think you’d be the dating app type of guy. What, the ladies don’t flock to you with your perfect smile and pretty eyes?”

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