“LA,” Kendra replied, tracing a crack in the wood with her finger.
“Ah, what brings you up here?”
“I’m trying to make a decision,” she confessed, surprising herself.
“This will help with that.” The bartender nodded at her drink before spinning to go check on other patrons.
He left Kendra alone with her thoughts, absently staring at whatever was on the TV positioned over the bar. It was one of those instant wedding reality shows—where the couple barely knew each other. She tightened her hand around her glass as she watched, feeling that deep resentment burning.
The bartender returned to pour a stout at her end of the bar, nodding to the TV. “I think they missed my application.”
“Don’t go on one of those shows”—Kendra rolled her eyes—“please.”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s an easy solution to a big problem.”
“This isn’t how love and marriage are supposed to work,” she pointed out, “and what is so wrong with being traditional about it? A proper courtship and engagement.”
“Ah,” he grinned, picking up the full beers, “you’re one of those conservative types.”
“So what?” She sipped her drink, her back stiffening. If he only knew.
He cocked his head back, offering her a casual laugh, drawing a smile out of her, too. As he moved away, Kendra realized her phone was vibrating. It was a call…from a blocked number. She bit her lip, not wanting to pick it up. So, the call kept going…and going. It was just about to go to voicemail, so she let it, exhaling deeply.
The bartender came back, eyeing her up and down. “A conservative woman like you should be at home, in bed—not having another shot, right?”
He grabbed two shot glasses, and poured tequila into them, seeming to wait for her response.
She checked the time. It was getting late. But, then again, she found her lips curling into a conspiratorial smile, meeting his grin. Reluctantly, she nodded at the bartender, taking the burning liquid down her throat within seconds. Elbows on the bar, she held her last empty shot glass in her hand, feeling a little less stiff than she had all week.
“Tell me… Why do men make it so hard?” she demanded, a little slur in her words.
“Ah, is this the decision you have to make?” He cocked his head, chuckling. “What’s going on?”
“I’m stuck between a man I can’t have and a man I don’t want,” Kendra admitted, thinking about Delta and Hunter. “I don’t have faith in either of them.”
“I think you should forget about the man you don’t want,” he said, putting both hands on the bar and leaning toward her. His kind green eyes twinkled as he watched her, something knowing in his face.
“And the guy I can’t have?” she probed, gazing up at him with wonder, like he was the oracle she’d always needed. “We have a past… and he really hurt me last time I let him in.”
“Why didn’t it work out?”
She bit her lip. “I wasn’t good enough for him—wasn’t good enough to be with him in a real way.”
“Did he say that?”
“He could have any woman he wants—gorgeous women, successful women—”
The bartender cut in with, “You are a gorgeous woman.”
She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder, shaking her head. It was nice to be complimented by a stranger—but he just didn’t understand. Women threw themselves at SEALs. She would barely measure up to any of them. There was no doubt that she wasn’t good enough to be with him.
Why had she gone and slept with a fucking Navy SEAL? What was she thinking? It was never going to be a thing—nothing more than a ‘one and done’. He was always just going to toy with her, play games to gratify himself.
“Well, I’d date you,” the bartender said in earnest, bringing the conversation back into a lighter place as he dried glasses from the washer. “You’re a catch.”
She opened her mouth a little but there was nothing to say. She was a little shy. Is he flirting with me?
“That’s funny.” She waved her hand dismissively, but deep down appreciating the comment all the same.