Page 18 of The Businesswoman and the Bartender

“Chihuly Garden and Glass,” he supplied with a tiny smile.

“Yes, that. And then my boat tour is at noon.”

“What are you doing for lunch?”

“Probably explore the market, see what I’m in the mood for.”

He ran his hands up and down his thighs once, then twice, as if summoning his nerve. “Do you think you’d want company?”

Every inch of her vibrated with joy. “I’d love that. I should be off the boat by one o’clock. Want to meet me then?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“What about breakfast? Can you join me before you head back to your place?”

Nick knew of a bakery about ten minutes away. He left first and told her he’d wait at the corner two blocks down. April remained in the room for a full five minutes before departing, feeling like a teenager sneaking out of her house after hours. She met him on the corner, right where he said he’d be, and they proceeded to the bakery.

The space was intimate and cozy, with a handful of circular tables, counter service, and a display case that held every pastry under the sun—each one more mouthwatering than the next. She ordered a small coffee and an almond croissant, and Nick followed suit. Before she could even open her purse, he handed over some bills to the cashier.

“Thank you,” she said, giving his arm a squeeze of gratitude.

He smiled ruefully. “Don’t thank me. That was your money anyway.” When her brows knit with confusion, he clarified, “The tip you left last night?”

“Oh.” She laughed lightly. Yet nothing felt funny, especially not when a memory resurfaced.

I’m well aware that you’re out of my league.

Luckily, the fraught moment passed, and their conversation over breakfast was easy and natural. Topics ranged from the basic, like their families—he had three older sisters; she had a younger brother—to the absurdly specific, like whether they believed in ghosts or not. They were thrilled to find out they were both total believers.

After the pastries and coffee were consumed, they went their separate ways. But before Nick jumped on the light rail bound for his neighborhood, he kissed her easily, in the way that proper couples do. It made her stomach twist and turn with equal parts elation and terror.

She spent the rest of the morning on her feet, exploring Seattle—the breathless height of the Space Needle, the brilliant artistry of Chihuly Garden and Glass, and the sereneness of Elliott Bay. It was a clear and crisp day, and she felt more alive than she’d felt in a long, long time. And that feeling was only amplified when she stepped off the boat later that afternoon and found Nick waiting for her.

They headed from the water up to Pike Place Market, which was a feast for the eyes and evoked all the senses. They walked past the different vendors and artisans, purchasing bits of food as they went, and April bought a stunning hand-painted scarf for her mother’s birthday next month.

And, at the end of the day, she was a tourist, so she begged him to show her where they threw the fish. She clapped happily as the workers tossed a gigantic salmon through the air and called out orders, and Nick watched her with tender eyes. She hoped that he found joy in howshefound joy in his city.

Throughout the afternoon, they peppered each other with question after question, eager to find out as much as they could. Most of the inquiries were basic—favorite color, first kiss, most embarrassing moment. But after they gorged on mac and cheese at Beecher’s and returned to wandering the street, April dug deeper and asked, “What are you most proud of?”

He appeared genuinely stumped for a second, and then his reply was hesitant. “You’ll probably think it’s silly.”

“If you’re proud of it, then it’s not silly.”

Nick turned his head to search her eyes as if he couldn’t trust the sincerity in her voice. But he eventually said, “I was voted best bartender in Seattle a few years back.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and playfully whacked him on the arm. “Are you kidding me? That’s amazing!”

“It was just a little online blog thing, not a big deal—”

“It is a big deal. Many people aren’t recognized for their work. The fact that you were is incredible. And I happen to agree. Youarethe best bartender in Seattle,” she added cheekily, raising onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

One skeptical eyebrow raised in response. “And how many bartenders in this city do you actually know?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she insisted with an impish grin. “You’re the best, and I won’t hear otherwise.”

A sheepish laugh bubbled from his throat as he took her hand, lacing their fingers together so easily she almost cried. How unfair it was that he lived here while she lived thousands of miles away. She would give anything to bottle this moment up and relive it any time she wanted.

At two thirty, he regretfully announced that he had to leave to make his shift on time. She promised to come by around ten for a quick nightcap, and, after a goodbye kiss, he was off.

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