Page 19 of Saved By A Small Town Country Boy
“Here you go. Is there anything else that I can get for you?”
“These honey lemon pepper wings sound good. I think I want an order of the six-count with some fries.”
“I’ll get it to the kitchen for you. It’ll be right out.”
“Thanks.” She sauntered from behind the bar and into the door that was directly alongside it. If she kept up this great customer service, she was going to get a good tip out of me. I’m one of those people who loves leaving people tips for their service. Now, if they were shitty, they didn’t have to worry about getting a dime out of me. Some people piss me off, especially when it came to ordering groceries or food to be delivered. They’d do a shitty service and I’d already left them a great tip. Those types of people really grind my gears.
Something brushed against my knee, gripping me from my thoughts. I looked up and saw this guy standing there. He was dressed in a black T-shirt and denims. His dreads stopped at his shoulders. He had a Cuban chain around his neck that glistened underneath the dim lighting. This man looks like he’d be fromout of town. He looks nothing like the rest of the people from around here, not any that I’ve seen so far.
Turning, he faced me. His pearly whites damn near blinded me. “What’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing out here alone?”
“Who says that I’m alone?”
He skimmed the bar before turning his attention back to me. “I don’t see anyone else with you. When you came in, you were alone, unless you’re meeting someone here. I wouldn’t put it past something as gorgeous as you.”
“I’m meeting a friend here,” I lied. I’ve always been taught to never let anyone know my hand. It’s none of his business if I’m here alone.
He climbed up on the barstool alongside me and asked, “Do you mind if I sit with you ’til yourfriendcomes, or are you waiting for a man?”
He really thinks he’s slick.
“I guess you can.” I took a sip from my drink, and it was really good. The bartender came back out with my food and set it down in front of me.
“I didn’t take you as the wing type of girl.”
My brow arched to my hairline. “What type of girl did you take me as?”
“The one who likes lobster and steak,” he replied with a grin.
“Oh, I love me a good lobster and steak, but it’s nothing wrong with some good wings.”
“If you really want some good wings, you need to try Front Porch Café. Best food in town. I promise you.”
“I just might give it a try.” Picking up one of the wings, I took a bite from it. I can’t even lie, they were good as fuck.
“Where are you from?”
Cutting my eyes in his direction, I asked, “What makes you think I’m from somewhere else?”
“C’mon…” he chuckled. “This a small town. Everyone knows everyone, and you damn sure ain’t from ’round here.”
“Does it really matter where I’m from?”
“Not really. I’m just trying to make conversation.”
“I’m from up north.”
I downed my drink and lifted my hand in the air for the bartender. She came back over with another drink.
“You don’t sound like it,” he continued.
I shrugged my shoulders and turned when I heard glass shatter from behind me. A woman had tossed her cup at some guy before slapping him in the face. Just from the short time of me being here, I noticed that a lot of women here had anger problems. Aunt Reese fits right on in with them.
When I turned back around, the guy was sipping from his drink. I finished up my food and downed the rest of my margarita. A few more minutes had passed, and dude got up from the stool. I thought it was weird because he hadn’t finished his conversation. It was as if he’d just given up on trying to talk to me.
After one more drink, I was ready to get out of here. I stood to my feet, and my legs felt like noodles. My hand slapped against the bar to stop from falling. I didn’t have enough drinks to get drunk. Knowing my alcohol tolerance was something that I learned early on.
“Are you okay?” the bartender questioned me as she leaned over the bar.
