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“No. It’s in your eyes, the sadness. It was there when you got to my bar last night. It’s still there today. That’s not hung over. It’s sadness.”
I look away from him because it’s true. Tomorrow is the twentieth anniversary of my parents’ death. Thankfully, the waitress brings over our breakfast and we eat in silence. Then it dawns on me; he should be on shift today. “Shouldn’t you be at work right now? Don’t tell me you called in sick to care for a stranger.” There’s dread in my gut.
Shaking his head, “No, today is my Kelly Day. You know, the day I get off every time my shift falls on it?”
I nod my head. “Ah, good.” The relief is comforting. “You said ‘your bar’. You own Hooplas?”
He nods as he finishes the last of his coffee and sits back in the booth, stretching both arms across the back of his seat, giving the illusion that he owns everything around him. “Yep. Just opened a few months ago. Me and a few friends own it,” he says proudly.
I nod, “Wow. Last night was only the second time I’ve been, but it’s a great bar. Congrats.”
“Why have you only been twice? We’ve been opened since March.”
“I’m not a drinker.”
He laughs, “We have other stuff to drink than beer and tequila, ya know. We even have food.”
“I know.” I sound embarrassed. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. I’m trying to forget last night.”
“What’s your favorite drink. Anything in the world.”
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“Hmm. I have to think about that for a second.” I tap my chin playfully and stare out the window for a moment. “I’d have to say diet root beer.”
Hudson full-on belly laughs and it’s a beautiful sound. “Diet root beer? That’s your drink of choice?”
I nod, “That’s my drink of choice. You said anything, didn’t you?”
He stands up, throws some money on the table, and holds out his hand. “I did say anything. Come on. Time to go.”
I slide out of the booth and take his hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. The electricity flowing between our hands feels amazing. What am I doing?
CHAPTER 8
HUDSON
I dropped Kate off at her tiny house after breakfast. She practically jumped out of my moving truck before I could stop. She stood outside the door on the passenger side, thanked me for everything, and then went back into her house, goose on her heels.
I was hoping to spend more time with her, but I get it. The greasy food is doing its thing, and she’s probably embarrassed to have found a stranger in her bed this morning. I’ve been there, not lately, but I’ve woken up a time or two with a stranger in my bed and am not proud of it. Not that Kate and I did anything last night, but still.
Pulling into my mother’s driveway, my phone rings over the sound system. I push the talk button on the steering wheel.
“Hey Mike. What’s happenin’ man?”
“Dude, I need a huge favor.” Mike voice sounds strained. “I’m in so much trouble with my wife and kids. I didn’t realize tomorrow is Father’s Day and I’m supposed to be on shift. She’s reminded me a bunch of times to take it off, and I just spaced it. I know today’s your Kelly Day, is there any way you can cover for me tomorrow for the first half of shift? I’d owe you big time, brother.”
I think over the stuff I was going to do around the house and then stop by Hoopla’s, but I can do all of that on Monday. Then it occurs to me. Tomorrow’s Sunday. Bagel Lady Day. I don’t want to think about why I’m so excited about Bagel Lady Day right now.
“Sure, man. I’ll do it.”
The relief in Mike’s voice is immediate. “Thanks man. I owe you big time. Just call and I’ll be there.”
I laugh. “No worries, man. Hope this fixes things with the family. Catch ya tomorrow night.”
“Bye.”
