Page 31 of Hard Hat Hottie

Walking into The Little Lobster, a smile crosses my face when I see the quaint space. It’s not a big establishment, there are booths along the perimeter of the restaurant with four tops covered in red and white checked tablecloths located centrally. Gazing about the place, there are metal buckets and rolls of paper towels on each table.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Brandon rubs his big palm over his belly.

The music changes, and I instinctively scan the room, finding a jukebox in the corner. Shania Twain belts out that any man of hers better walk the line, and I can’t help but picture her, brown curls piled atop her head, dancing in a pair of daisy dukes as she sings.

“Hey, everyone. Welcome. Feel free to seat yourself. I’ll be with you in just a sec,” the older waitress, carrying a tray full of drinks, greets.

“Thanks,” Ethan answers as he heads toward a booth in the corner.

We slide in, Brandon and Ethan grabbing menus, and I watch a young couple in casual clothes sway on the parquet dance floor beside us. She has short shorts and a pair of turquoise boots while her partner, wearing a white button down and jeans, spins her toward him.

“What can I get you three to drink?” the buxom blonde appearing in her forties asks.

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“Harlow, one drink. Nothing bad is going to happen,” Ethan lectures.

“It’s okay,” Brandon interrupts. “At least we got you out. You can have a Coke if you want.”

I almost relax until I remember blocking Stewart’s latest number and stiffen. “No, you’re right. I’ll have a whiskey sour.” Hell knows I deserve it.

“Now you’re talking. I’ll have a seven and seven,” Ethan orders.

“I’ll have one beer, then switch me to water. I’m driving this motley crew back to base.”

The server gives us a nod before heading to the bar.

“I want that,” Ethan says, pointing across the room to a crab leg feast fit for a king. But as my gaze returns over the dance floor, my eyes land on the couple dancing. He’s pulled her in,and she has her hands resting on the back of his neck. I can practically hear Bruno Mars singing in the background as I recall the way Harrison’s tall frame felt so close to me. His manly scent has stuck with me since that night, tempting me to drive to the local Kris Kringlemart and test each cologne sample on display to find the matching fragrance.

“I’m going to have the lobster tacos,” Brandon says, putting his menu down proudly, as if he’s single-handedly picked the winning lottery ticket. “What do you want, Har?”

Looking back to the couple, wrapped up in each other, I can’t help but think to myself,I want that.

Finishing the last of my lobster bisque and cheddar biscuits, I lean back in the booth and sigh. “Boys, this was a good plan.” I rub my belly full of peeled shrimp.

The sweet server returns with another tray of drinks and a water for Brandon. “Oh, I’m not sure I should have another.”

“Harlow, it’s only two. It’s not like you’re going to dance on the bar. One more drink won’t hurt.”

He’s right. I just have to toe the line a little more closely when I’m at drill. I’ve earned a stellar reputation there and don’t need any bad decisions made when I’m a little too tipsy, wrecking all of that for me. The knowledge of how my children came to be is a staunch reminder of all the things that can go topsy-turvy if you’re not careful with decisions while drinking.

I take a sip of the tart cocktail and laugh as “Cake by the Ocean” by DNCE comes on. This is the most eclectic music I’ve ever heard. From Shania to DNCE. “Hey, I’m going to see what other tunes are tucked in that jukebox.”

Standing from the table, the boys barely notice me stepping away as they continue to consume shellfish as if it’s their last meal. As I cross the dance floor, I have to acknowledge how nice the evening has been. And Brandon and Ethan are good men.We’ve worked alongside one another for years that there’s a sibling type bond between us now.

Peering inside the beautiful, multicolored music box, I find the dial and rotate to find the songs inside when I hear a familiar voice.

“C’mon. Just let me use it for a second.”

“What the hell? Why are you so obsessed with borrowing my phone? What happened to the one you had earlier?”

“It’s not working,” the familiar voice grumbles.

“It’s that chick, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I fucked up.”

“What’s so special about this girl? I thought you said she had kids or some shit. You ready for all of that?”

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