I look over my shoulder and have to bend my neck to look up at the man asking. He’s tall, lean, and dressed in jeans and a navy blue polo shirt. His blond hair is combed back from his forehead, and his handsome face has me doing a double-take. He reminds me of actor Austin Butler.
“It’s open,” I say simply.
“Thank you kindly.” He sits and dips his hand into my bowl of pretzels, popping a few of them in his mouth.
I scowl and slowly scoot the bowl away from his hand, which makes him chuckle.
“You aren’t from around here, are you?” He offers me a smile worthy of a Disney prince as he chews.
Before I can respond, Janie comes to the rescue.
“Leave this poor girl alone.”
“I’m not doing anything,” he humorously whines.
I lean toward Janie. “He’s fine. But if you don’t mind, he needs his own pretzels.”
She laughs, fiddles behind the bar, and presents the man with a fresh bowl. “Here you go, Kip.”
I freeze. Did Janie just call him “Kip”?
“Now, what’ll it be tonight?”
“Gimme a draft beer and a whiskey chaser.”
Janie puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head as if waiting for more.
He grins at her full throttle, revealing his perfect teeth. “May Ipleasehave a draft beer and a whiskey chaser, Miss Janie?”
“That’s more like it.”
Janie moves toward the beer taps as Kip gets comfortable on his stool. His legs are spread wide, and his cowboy boots rest on the brass foot rails. Even though he’s handsome, the way he chews pretzels with his mouth open while staring at the TV makes my skin crawl.
“You a Braves fan?” he smacks.
For a moment, I seriously think about moving over to one of the more private booths along the wall. If this is the same Kip George told me about, I want nothing to do with him. But thenI reconsider. Maybe I should get to know him after all? Getting to know this guy may be useful during my stay in Heartsboro.
“Yes, I am a Braves fan,” I reply with a forced smile. “I’ve been to several games over the years. I’m from Atlanta.”
“Cool.”
Janie drops off his beer and a shot of whiskey.
“Thank you,” he singsongs with a wink. The guy is a regular flirt.
“You’re welcome.” She sets a rolled-up napkin with silverware in front of me. “Your burger should be out in a few minutes.”
“Thanks, Janie.”
I continue sipping my wine, unsure what to say to my new neighbor. Leaning my arm on the bar top, I twist my body in the swivel chair and look him in the eye.
“So, Kip, is it?”
He looks right at me and offers a half grin mid-chew. “Yup. What’s your name, pretty lady?”
I bristle. Being called “pretty lady” by a complete stranger is inappropriate. But being from the South and finding myself sitting next to George’s nemesis in a small-town bar makes me hold back from my own unbecoming response. Instead, I offer another fake smile and lift my wine glass as if I’m enjoying our conversation.
“My name is Madison.”
