Page 27 of Love Is Ale You Need

“I doubt that’s the word you’re searching for,” I say.

“Maybe she likes dogs.” Owen shrugs.

“If that’s the case, she must like naked people just as much.” I raise my pint glass before swallowing a gulp.

“Then mash them together.” Owen claps the palms of his hands together.

With his elbows on the bar, Darren leans over to address Tim. “Where do you find these women? Not that I want to find one like her, but where did you find her?”

“Reddit,” Tim says.

I swallow a fresh gulp of my beer, needing a few seconds to process all this. I’m trying to put the puzzle pieces together, but it’s like I’m working with two different puzzles. I furrow my brows. “How exactly does this tie into my situation?”

“Oh yeah. Moral of the story, if she’s saying no or in your case,” he waves his hand in my direction, “avoids the question, there must be a reason why. For me, she didn’t want to show me her weird ass naked dog head people paintings, and I should have respected that.”

“Are you saying I should automatically respect her boundaries and back away?”

“Oh.” He rubs his chin. “Not necessarily. Unless she’s told you she likes to paint, then I’d be wary.”

I shake my head. “Far as I know, she’s no Van Gogh, but I’ve also haven’t had time to get to know her more. So, you think she’s hiding something from me?”

“What else could it be?” Tim shrugs his shoulders and tilts his head. “I’d be prepared for whatever it may be.”

“Expect the worst. Hope for the best,” Miles adds.

“You need to give her a date she can’t say no to,” Owen says.

All I want to do is to get to know her, but it’s hard at Porter’s while she’s working. I’m competing for her attention with fifty other people. Sadly, they always win because it’s her job. I'm desperate for some one-on-one time with her. Then I could learn more about her and maybe other things. I won’t lie, other things with her would be fan-fucking-tastic. But there’s the whole friend zone she put me in. Like what the fuck is that? Is that supposed to deter me? Friends have sex all the time. How many couples end up as friends to lovers? A lot. In fact, this whole friend zone actually sparks a teeny tiny fire of hope. She was hesitant to tell me she has a daughter and an ex-husband, so it can’t be that. Unless she’s dating someone, but we’ve slept together. Maybe it started after our tryst. All of this is outside my comfort zone. But this is what she’s doing to me.

Owen might be onto something. Give her something she can’t say no to. Or let her make the choice. I lift my beer, guzzle down half the glass, and slam it to the bar top. “I got it. I know how I’m going to get my date.”

TWELVE

BURLAP LOIN CLOTH

Rylee

It’s more quiet than usual for a Friday afternoon at Porter’s, but I shouldn’t complain. It gives me an opportunity to stock the coolers before patrons fill the bar. Jake booked a local band, and band nights always draw a large crowd. As the golden liquid of the IPA rises in the glass, my thoughts drift to Trey. Which they’ve been doing more and more of lately. It's hard to deny that his persistent pursuit of me is rather flattering. But off in the distance, red flags fly, reminding me of none other than my ex-husband. Even when we’re not together, the ex still somehow manages to ruin things for me. Besides that, what else was unsettling is what happened when I left the parking lot the other night.

The cold beer flows over the rim, splashing on my hand. “Shit.” I snap the tap back into place and grab a towel from under the bar. I wipe down the glass and pass it to the customer.

I rest my butt against the edge of the beer cooler and stare at an invisible spot on the far wall. Normally, I'm always levelheaded. I've always had to be, especially in the last six years. But now, suddenly everything is a distraction.

“I’m not staring at your chest. Well technically I am, but just to double check that you’re breathing. You’ve been standing like a statue for the past five minutes. For a second, I thought maybe you were dead, but then your chest rose, and I felt a little better about not staring at a dead person. Is everything okay?” Lach asks, his tone laced with concern.

I crane my neck toward him and furrow my brows. “I don’t know how to process everything you just said, but yeah.”

He runs his hand through his chestnut locks, moving the strands off his forehead. His normally bright blue eyes darken with concern. “Are you sure?”

“Actually, not really.” I sigh. “Have you ever noticed a dark colored, maybe gray or navy, older truck parked in the parking lot? It’s missing the passenger side mirror.” I tilt my head and roll my lips between my teeth. A part of me wants him to know who the owner is, so I'm not constantly looking over my shoulder every time I leave here.

His eyebrows pinch together. “There are a lot of vehicles in the parking lot.”

“Yeah.” I pause. Then turn to face him. “It’s just when I was leaving yesterday, a truck followed me out and tailed me for several blocks.”

He stops, bottles of beer in his hand, and glances up at me. “Did you make three right turns?”

I prop my hand against the beer cooler. “I did, but they never followed me after the second.”

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