Identity

And this, she admitted, was one of the reasons she loved working in a bar. You never knew what might start, might finish, might bloom or break in a friendly neighborhood bar.

By the time Roddy and his brothers plowed through their burgers, the place started filling up. The Match.com couple decided to get a table after all, and a platter of nachos.

Morgan made a mental bet on a second date there.

Vodka Tonic cashed out, left a miserly tip.

Darts thwacked against the board to cheers and catcalls of onlookers.

A man in his early thirties came in. He made her think of an incognito movie star with his dark blond hair, chiseled features, gym-fit body in jeans, boots, and a pale blue sweater—looked like cashmere. He slid onto a stool.

She stepped down to him. “Welcome to the Next Round. What’s your pleasure?”

“I’ve got a lot of them.” He grinned at her—easy, charming. “But we’ll start with a beer. Any local beer on tap?”

“Of course.” Though they had lists printed in holders on the bar, she reeled them off.

“Maybe you can pick one for me.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“Another loaded question.”

She shot him a smile. Looking for some conversation, she judged, along with the drink. And that was fine.

“In a beer.”

“Smooth, but not bland. Rich, but not overpowering. Toward the dark side.”

“Let’s try this.” She got a tasting glass, pulled a tap.

As he sampled it, he watched her over the rim. “That’ll do. Good choice.”

“That’s my job.”

Before he could speak again, one of the waitresses came up. “Girl table over there’s stuck in the nineties. Four Cosmos, Morgan.”

She carried the tray of empties into the kitchen while Morgan got to work.

“You know what you’re doing,” the new guy commented as she mixed the drinks.

“I’d better. Are you in town on business?”

“Don’t I look like I belong?”

Close enough, she thought. His clothes said upscale, but not in-your-face. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”

A cheer erupted across the room.

“Dart tourney,” she said.

“So I see. Serious?”

“Oh, in its way. Can I get you anything else? Would you like to see a menu?”

“Is the food any good?”

“It is.” She pulled out a menu, laid it beside him. “Have a look, take your time.”

With the Cosmos ready, she moved down the bar. Took orders, filled orders, chatting with regulars as she did. She worked her way back.

“I’ll try a Market Street Burger, unless you tell me I’m making a mistake.”

“It’s a classic for a reason. If you like a kick, a little heat, go with the spicy fries.”

He lifted his hands. “You’ve never steered me wrong.”

She laughed, plugged his order in the machine.

Roddy, all six-four and two hundred fifty pounds, walked over to the bar. “Another round, sweets. How’s it going?” he said idly to Handsome Guy while Morgan filled the order.

“Cold beer, beautiful bartender, live sports. It’s a good deal.”

“Yeah, it is. I took the lead in the semis. Give me some luck for the finals, Morgan.”

She leaned over, touched her lips to his. “Go get ’em.”

“Damn right.” He took the beers and walked off.

“Boyfriend?”

She looked over at her customer. “Oh, no. Roddy and his brothers—the dart players—are regulars. I actually work with his girlfriend at my other job.”

“Two jobs? Ambitious. What’s the other?”

“Office manager for a construction company. What do you do?”

“I’d like to say as I please, because at least I try. I’m in IT. I’m in the area for a couple of months doing some consulting.”

“Where are you from?”

“I travel a lot. San Francisco originally, but I’m based in New York now, or for the most part. Is this hometown for you?”

“It is now.”

Another waitress came up, rattled off another order.

“Army brat,” she said as she filled it.

“Then you know the traveling life.”

“I do. And I’m happy to have left that behind.”

When his order came out, he gave the plate a long look. “You don’t skimp on portions here.”

“We don’t. Would you like a table?”

He sent her that charming smile. “I like the view right here. I’m Luke,” he added. “Luke Hudson.”

“Morgan. Nice to meet you.”

He ate, ordered a second beer, stayed through the tournament.

He asked questions but didn’t seem intrusive. Bar conversation, in Morgan’s mind. She asked her own.

He was staying at a local hotel. His company would rent a house for him, but he liked hotels, and enjoyed getting into the local flavor wherever he traveled.

He asked where her father had been stationed, which places she’d lived she liked best. Easy breezy while she mixed drinks, mopped the bar, chattered with other customers.

“I should get going,” he said. “I didn’t intend to stay so long, but it looks like I’ve found my local watering hole.”

“It’s a good one.”

“I’ll see you again.” When he rose, he surprised her by offering a hand to shake. And held hers while he smiled into her eyes. “It’s really been great spending time with you, Morgan.”

“It’s been nice talking to you.”

“We’ll do it again.”

He paid in cash, leaving a very generous tip.



* * *



A couple nights later, Luke wandered in later in her shift. It was trivia night at the Round, and the noise level boomed as various tables and groups shouted out answers.

“Pick another local draft,” he told Morgan. “Something … adventurous.” He glanced behind him at the game players. “No darts tonight?”

“Trivia night. It’s a free-for-all, so shout out whenever you want.”

“What’s the prize?”

“Satisfaction.” She offered him a tasting glass.

“Interesting and adventurous,” he decided. “Got some dark cherries going. Let’s go for it.”

As she pulled the tap, she smiled over. “Anything to go with it?”

“Just the beer for now. Had a long day.”

“Life in the tech world?”

“Like the beer, it’s interesting and adventurous. How are things in your world?”

“Busy, but I like busy.”

She filled orders, working her way up and down the bar, but with trivia in full swing, she had a lull.

“What do you do when you’re not busy?” Luke asked her.

“I’ll let you know if I ever get there.”

“Gotta take some downtime. Mind, body, spirit, and all that. Paint me a day off.”

“Paint’s accurate. My house needs more of that, but it’s not quite ready. And with spring coming on, we’ll work on planting.”

“We?”

“My housemate.”

“So he’s handy?”

“She, and she’s terrific when it comes to curb appeal, planting. She works for a garden center. Inside, Nina’s not so much, but I’m not bad.”

“Construction company job.” He pointed at her. “Handy.”

“It helps.”

“A lot of maintenance when you’re a homeowner. I guess that’s why I’ve never gone there. I’m not handy. And there’s the job.” He pointed at her again. “Army brat, so you wanted to plant roots.”

“Exactly right.”

She mixed a whiskey sour, pulled two beers before he caught her attention again.