Page 5 of Hometown Halftime

With a quiet sigh, I turn back to the taps, wiping them down with more force than necessary. There’s thirty minutes until closing, which means ten minutes until last call. Three sets of ten. I can survive anything for three sets of ten. I toss the rag back into the sanitizer bucket and lean forward onto the bar, bracing myself.

“Listen, Robert—”

“Bob. Call me Bob,” he cuts in.

“Okay…Bob,” I say, putting just enough emphasis on his name to make it clear I hate it. “I don’t think this,” I gesture between us, “is going to work out.”

“Come on, Kinz.”

I lift my gaze to his, letting the full weight of my irritation settle in. “My name is Kinsey.”

He smiles, and I have to hold back my growing rage.

“Kinsey,” he says, undeterred, leaning forward. “We had a great time at the movies. And I don’t know about you, but I could feel our chemistry. It was like our bodies were talking to each other.”

I physically recoil. God, no.

“I think that was a solo conversation, Bob.”

His grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows.

“I think we should test things out,” he continues, as if I didn’t just try to shut him down. “We could hook up, and if it’s good—” his gaze drops, straight to my tits, “—which I know it will be, then we can just see each other when we have…needs.”

I laugh, full-bellied and loud, because I’m baffled as fuck that he thinks that this is appropriate. When I’m out of breath, trying to calm down, I look at him and he looks confused.

Oh…Oh, God, he’s serious.

I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek, because if I open my mouth right now, I might get fired.

Here’s the thing. I’ve been single for a few years. Not in a sad, waiting-around kind of way. More in a peaceful way. Like I have the bed to myself, no one annoys me on a daily basis or leaves beard trimmings around the sink, sort of way. Sure, I’ve had the occasional one-night stand—roughly every eighteen months, give or take—just so I don’t tear my hair out due to sexual frustration, but never with anyone from Cedar Falls.

Because this town treats gossiping like it’s a competitive sport.

One blurry sighting of me leaving a man’s house the next morning, and Haddie Carmichael would have a full investigative report posted to the Cedar Falls Happenings Facebook page before I made it home to shower.

No, thank you.

Which is exactly why I should’ve trusted my gut and said no when Brynn suggested I give good old Bob here a chance. But she caught me at a weak moment. I was two glasses of wine deep, halfway through a Pitch Perfect rewatch, and Becca and Jesse had just made eye contact through a record shelf.

All my best friends were there—Kate, Levi and Ty—to aid Brynn in her persuasion, so I folded and said yes to one single date with Bob.

And somehow, it was still one too many.

We sat through a terrible action movie where I’m pretty sure the plot died in the first ten minutes, and then, on the drive home, he asked if I wanted to stop at Taco Bell.

Taco Bell.

I should’ve rolled out of the moving car to escape.

And now here I am, trapped behind my bar, wondering how I accidentally encouraged this man to think that casual hookups are a viable next step.

“Bob,” I say, pushing off the bar and straightening to my full height, “I won’t be having any ‘needs’ anytime soon, and I think you should redirect your energy elsewhere. We’re not going out again.”

He sighs like he’s the one being inconvenienced, then drains the last of his beer. As soon as he sets it down, I grab the glass, head to the register, and print his tab. I slide the receipt and a pen back across the bar.

“I didn’t get anything for last call,” he says, frowning.

I offer him a bright, fake smile.