And he almost had himself under control when he walked into the dining room and his movement caught her eye. Their gazes met. She smiled.
He was doomed.
There were three guys sitting at one of the tables, talking and laughing while playing a card game, but other than them, the dining room was empty. He walked over to the bar and pulled one of the stools by the wall over so he could sit.
“Good evening,” she said in a soft voice that he was probably going to hear in his dreams tonight. “What can I get for you?”
He scanned the bottles lined up on the shelves of the cabinet behind her, considering his options. “Just a vodka soda, if you’ve got the soda part.”
“We have canned seltzer, if that works.”
“Works for me.”
While she made his drink, he checked out the liquor cabinet. It looked recessed, and it had accordion doors that were folded back. Even though they were open, he could see the hardware for a padlock, and he guessed when Nola was done tonight, she’d be locking up the alcohol. And since he’d been feeling a bit tongue-tied since he walked through the door, it gave him something to talk about.
“Interesting set-up,” he said, nodding toward the cabinet when she set the glass down in front of him.
“It is. The family decided to get a liquor license so the guests would stop going out by truck or snowmobile looking for a bar after dinner, but they also didn’t want everybody just helping themselves after we went to bed.”
“Liquor’s expensive,” he said.
“And not all of our guests are twenty-one. So Andy built this cabinet with the accordion doors to hold all the booze, and when you come in for breakfast in the morning, the doors will be closed and locked, and this bar will be set up to help yourself to coffee and juice.”
He took a sip of his drink and decided it was time to learn more about Nola. “The website says this place is owned by the Kowalski family. Are you one of them?”
“Nope. Just a friend of the family. This place has grown a lot in the last few years and they needed somebody to help in the kitchen and with the bar on nights and weekends. I thought it would be a fun way to get out of the house.”
“What do you do when you’re not here?”
“I work at the town hall. It’s not the most exciting job in the world—though I do enjoy it—but I’ve seen the same people over and over for most of my life. Here, I get to meet people from all over.”
“I hate to risk disappointing you, but I’m from Connecticut.”
Her laugh was soft, but it was a pretty sound that made him want to hear more of it. “Being from Connecticut definitely doesn’t make you a unique entry in the Northern Star’s guest book. I wouldn’t say you’re disappointing, though.”
The words, and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him, sent a thrill through Ian, but he tried to calm himself down. His radar was so rusty, he couldn’t be sure she was actually flirting with him. He’d been out a few times, casually and with women he already knew, but he hadn’t really jumped back into the dating pool yet. And the last thing he wanted to do was make things awkward on the first night of being here for a week, so he just smiled back.
“Wait,” she said, tilting her head. “That actually depends on which part of Connecticut you’re from. Red Sox or Yankees?”
“Red Sox.”
“Right answer.” And the grin she gave him was definitely a sweet reward.
“Hey, can I ask you a personal question?” When her eyebrow shot up, he realized that question could be taken a lot of ways, and held up his hand. “Not that personal. I promise.”
“You can ask.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I’ll answer.”
“You have such a pretty name, but I don’t think I’ve heard it before. Is it short for something?”
“Thank you, and no, it’s not a nickname. It was my great-aunt’s name and I’ve asked, but nobody’s sure where her parents got it from. What about yours?”
He chuckled. “Ian’s not exactly a unique name.”
“Maybe not, but I’m still curious about why it’syourname. It’s part of your story.”
He tried not to be too encouraged by her interest in his story. She’d just told him meeting people was part of the reason she took the job here. “Well, if you ask my dad, I’m named in honor of Ian Fleming.”
“The guy who wrote the James Bond books?”
