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Dan smirked. “Only one way to find out,” he said, then walked to the other end of the bar and loudly yelled, “Miss! Miss!” until he got the raven-haired beauty’s attention.
“There’s an empty seat at the end of the bar,” he boomed as he pointed to the chair next to Maverick.
She nodded her understanding and mouthed, “Thanks,” then started walking his way in her black high heels.
Dan turned around with a wicked grin as he walked back to where Maverick was seated. “Now it’s up to you, Top Gun.”
Even though he hadn’t flown a jet for the Navy in almost ten years, his call sign was with him for life. He’d been branded Maverick the first day in flight school when his classmates learned his real name was Pete Mitchell—the main character’s name in the Top Gun movie.
He jabbed back with another Tom Cruise movie name. “Thanks, Cocktail.”
Dan waved his credit card at him. “Be sure you give me a big tip when you get her digits.”
Moments later, a soft voice asked, “Is anyone sitting here?”
“Just you,” Maverick replied with his best flirty grin.
She sat down next to him and tucked her long dark hair behind her ear as she glanced at her lap, then quickly pulled her shoulders back and smiled.
Fuck me.
She was even more stunning up close. Her porcelain skin was flawless, with slightly ruddy cheeks, like she was either hot or embarrassed, and her bowtie lips had a tint of pink gloss on them he had a sudden urge to kiss off.
“I completely forgot the game was on tonight,” she murmured as she glanced around.
“You forgot? You’re not from around here, huh?”
“Oh, no. Born and raised. Other than when I went away to college, I’ve lived here my whole life. I’ve just got a lot going on right now and haven’t been following the Bruins or the Celtics very closely.” She offered a defeated smile that conveyed a lot more than she probably realized as she scanned the room. “I’m guessing they’re doing well this season.”
He chuckled. “You could say that. But it sounds like you could use a drink, darlin’.”
“That,” she let out a puff of air, “is an understatement.”
Dan appeared and threw a cocktail napkin with the Flannigan’s logo in front of her. “What can I get you?”
“Oh, um…” she surveyed the bar patrons’ drinks. “Could you make me a dirty martini?”
“One or two olives?”
She gave him a flirty grin and winked. “Could you make it three?”
“Wink at me like that again, and I’ll make it a double,” Dan flirted back.
While Maverick knew being friendly with customers was part of Dan’s job, he still wanted to punch the bartender in the throat.
“As much as I’m tempted to see if you’re bluffing, I probably should get some food in me before I do something crazy like that. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Dan didn’t miss a beat as he slid a menu in front of her, then moved to the computer screen a few feet away.
“Oh, I don’t need that,” she called out to him. “Can you order me a cheeseburger, medium, and fries?”
The bartender tapped some buttons before heading down the bar to put the martini ingredients in a stainless-steel shaker.
Maverick tried to think of something witty to say to this gorgeous woman, but came up empty. No wonder he hadn’t had sex in months.
Fortunately, she turned to him and asked, “Are you a big Bruins fan?”
“Isn’t everyone this time of year?”
