Page 18 of Nice to Meet Boo
Heidi smirks from behind the bar. She’s in full work mode, hair swept up, apron dusted with flour, but her eyes are sharp. “Or one night’s kissing contests.”
Heat creeps up my neck. I try to laugh it off. “It was agame. Saints and Sinners. The crowd loved it. We won.”
“Uh-huh.” She polishes a glass with more vigor than necessary. “And yet, you’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The look of someone who had more fun than she planned and is now trying to pretend it didn’t matter.” Heidi sets the glass down with a thunk. “You forget I’m fluent in bar faces, Stace.”
I stuff the money back in the envelope and shrug. “It’s nothing. Just… fun.”
“Sure,” she says, voice warm but knowing.
Seth stands, brushing off his jeans. “Gonna hit the restroom. You two… behave.”
“Always,” Heidi says, and once he’s gone she slides into full bartender mode—elbows braced on the counter, eyes narrowing like she’s lining up a shot. “Talk.”
I laugh, nervous. “There’s nothing to?—”
“Stacey.” She says my name gently but firmly, the way my brother does when he knows I’m holding back. “You like him. And I don’t mean as just a crush.”
“I do.” I swallow hard. “But it doesn’t matter.”
“Of course, it does.” Her eyes narrow. “What happened?”
The words spill before I can stop them.
“We… stayed up most of the night. Together.” My cheeks flame. “And it was—God, it was good. Better than I expected, and I expected a lot after that kiss on stage.”
Heidi grins, then sobers when she sees my expression. “But?”
“But this morning, he pulled away. He said he had work.” I twist the envelope in my hands until the paper threatens to rip. “And I believed him, but I also… know the truth. He was pulling back. Guarding himself. And I’m terrified I’ll never see him again.”
My voice wobbles on the last word. Heidi reaches across and stills my fidgeting hands.
“Sweetheart. Men like him—gruff, grumpy, carrying whatever past they won’t talk about—sometimes they need a minute to catch up with what’s right in front of them. Doesn’t mean it’s over.”
I nod, though my chest is tight.
“Heidi, I don’t want it to be just one night.”
“Then don’t let it be.”
The bell over the door jingles. I turn, heart leaping into my throat, and there he is—Grant, in jeans and a dark flannel, hair damp from a shower, devil horns nowhere in sight.
He stops short when he sees me. For a second, his face is unreadable. Then he clears his throat and walks over. In his hand is a small brown paper bag.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” My voice is thin. “What’s that?”
He sets the bag on the counter, sliding it toward me. “You left something. Figured you might want it back.”
I open it, fingers trembling, and pull out… my halo headband. Bent slightly from being shoved in my purse, but still glittering.
My throat tightens. “Oh. Thanks.”
“I just got a call from Cyrus. You’ll never guess what he said.” Seth reappears, drying his hands on a paper towel. He takes one look between us and raises a brow. He clears his throat. “Actually, Heidi, this is something I should tell you. At home.”
