Page 34 of Give Me Redemption

She picked a sports bar. I thought she’d pick somewhere fancy. I don’t really know why I thought that. She just seems like she doesn’t know how to have a good time.

That sounds bad, but I get that vibe from her.

That’s okay. She’s going to be hanging out with me now. I’ll show her how to have a good time.

I slide the food into the fridge and reach for my phone to touch base with my brother.

“Hey, man,” Bryce says, answering on the second ring.

“Hey, what’s your day looking like?” he asks.

“Eh, not much,” he replies. “I went and hit the bag a little. Headed back to the apartment now.”

“Have you seen Harrison anymore?” I ask him.

“Mind your business.”

I smile, knowing he has. “All right, well, I’ve got a date in a little while. So, my night will be occupied in case you wanted to hang out.”

“A date with whom?” he asks.

“Mind your business,” I throw back at him.

He laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Talk later.”

I laugh and hang up the phone.

___________

I pull up in the parking lot of the bar. I’m not sure what she’d be driving so I go inside, realizing I don’t have her number or her name. I walk inside and search the bar. A few men occupy the stools, but there’s two at the end that’s open, right near the TV. Score.

I walk on down and hop on the seat. “You here with Michelle?” the bartender asks me.

I quirk a brow. “Umm, yeah?” I say it like it’s a question because I don’t know her name. He looks at me funny.

“Yes, he’s with me.” I turn to look and blink. She’s in jeans and a Braves T-shirt that’s tied on the side. Her hair is down, which I haven’t seen yet, and she’s got a ball cap on.

Damn, she’s probably the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot. I’ve been around a good bit of them.

“Hey,” she says with a nod before sliding onto the barstool.

“Can we get a beer?” she asks the bartender. “Whatever you have on draft.”

She’s ordering drinks for me?

I don’t have time to gather my thoughts here. She walks in, looking like a guy’s girl, completely comfortable with herself, and not a stitch of over-the-top makeup or clothes.

And she just ordered beer like she’s a regular here.

“Come here often?” I ask.

“Yeah, all the time.” She smiles.

“I can tell.”

“Oh, damn. I hope you like beer. I usually drink it when I come in here. Their wine is shit,” she says.

I chuckle. “Yeah, I like beer.”

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