Page 54 of The Love Wager

“That’s my sweet spot,” he said, trying to force himself to stop thinking about her and Alex.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

“Walking to a bar to eat in solitude.”

“Maybe you’ll meet someone,” she said, sounding ridiculously cheery.

“Nah,” he said.

“Why not? You don’t like Minnesota girls?”

“I don’t like meeting strangers in bars.”

“I’m sorry—what?”

“Seriously.”

“The judges need clarification. Jack Marshall, man known to get freaky in hotel elevators with red-hot bartenders he doesn’t know, doesn’t like picking up chicks in bars?”

“I’ve always thought it was creepy.”

She sounded amused when she said, “Please explain.”

“It just seems idiotic to see someone and decide you like their appearance enough to start a conversation. It feels so...?”

“Superficial?”

“Bingo.”

“I have to go put on makeup, but I’m intrigued by this side of you. So you’re saying it seems wrong to select a possible mate by their looks without considering their brain first?”

“You have a way with words, and yes.”

“Wow, I might be a little turned on by this feministic outlook on the bar scene,” she teased. “Text me later if you’re bored, okay?”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and said, “Have fun.”

“But not too much fun, right? Notputting outfun?”

“You’re such a little shit,” he said with a laugh.

He ended the call as he walked into McKenna’s. He bellied up to the bar, where he’d always sat with his uncle Mack, and ordered a burger and a beer.

He looked around—it was starting to get busy for happyhour—and thought how weird it was being there without him.

In the past, Jack had loved it when work sent him to the Twin Cities, because it’d been an excuse to stay with his favorite uncle and hang out. Mack lived in the building above the bar, so McKenna’s had felt like his own personal kitchen. Every time Jack crashed there, he and Mack hit the bar for nearly every meal.

Everyone who walked through the door seemed to know Mack, and everyone who worked there treated him like family. He was like a beloved icon, the person who made life come alive when he entered a room.

And every time Jack visited, Mack had had a different girlfriend.

They all had one thing in common, though: They were fun.

Every girl Mack had ever introduced him to had been beautiful, funny, and down to have a good time. Jack had grown up watching the guy and wanted to be just like him. He’d wondered countless times over the years why anyone would rush to get married and settle down when you could live like that.

Mack wasn’t the life of the party—Mackwasthe party, wherever he went.

“Here.” The bartender set down Jack’s food and said, “Need ketchup?”

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