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“Yes, ma’am. Mountain water has a flavor all its own,” Smokey calls.
“Can you add two burgers, all the way, and an order of fries to our tab?” Weston asks.
“Coming right up.”
We take our beers and the basket of pretzels to one of the spools. Weston greets every patron by name as we make our way across the room.
The crowd is different than the one I normally see at the bar or brewery in the valley. This is an older, rougher-around-the-edges crowd. The kind you expect to find gathered at a watering hole in Sturgis.
“You come here a lot?” I ask as we take a seat.
“From time to time. Smokey and my grandfather were old fishing buddies who served in the Army together. When we were little, my brothers and I would sit on the river’s edge and listen to their old war stories. He and his wife, Ginny, are like second parents to us. They bought this place because they wanted something off the beaten path. It’s deep in the woods, it has no listings in any papers and no online presence, and there are no signs off the highway that lead you to it. It’s a strictly word-of-mouth place for mountain locals to get together.”
I glance around the room again. They might be older, but they all look friendly and like they are enjoying each other and the music.
Smokey delivers two burgers, piled high with American cheese and chili and coleslaw, and a separate plate of what looks to be hand-cut fried potatoes.
“Get ready to be impressed,” Weston says.
Smokey leans over and whispers, “It’s the combination of buffalo and beef that make it great. That, and the secret onion seasoning I sprinkle on it before it hits the grill.”
“Bullshit. It’s Ginny’s homemade chili and slaw that take it over the top,” Weston quips.
Smokey scoffs. “He just likes to butter the ladies up.”
“Don’t I know it?” I say.
The door opens, and a couple walks inside. Smokey tells us to enjoy before he walks over to greet them with a hug and shoulder bump.
I like him.
I pick up my messy burger and take a bite.
“Oh my God,” I mumble around the mouthful.
“Right?”
Weston watches as I swallow the delicious bite and wash it down with the cold beer.
“So good!” I exclaim.
He smiles, and his dimples appear.
“It’s the chili, isn’t it?”
I shake my head. “Nope, it’s the patty. So juicy and full of flavor.”
“Don’t tell Smokey that,” he insists.
“My lips are sealed.”
Anna
“Dance with me?”
I look up at him and then to the dance floor. “You dance?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Not very well, but no one here is going to judge us.”
