Page 4 of Todd
She scanned the space and smiled to herself. If families were here, the food had to be decent. And at this point, it didn’t even matter, considering her stomach was already tightening with hunger. She scoffed, knowing that as hungry as she was, she could probably gnaw the bark off the wooden walls and find it satisfying.
Rather than commandeer an entire table for herself, she climbed up onto the end bar seat, settling onto the worn leatherthat had been softened by countless patrons before her. The bartender, a middle-aged man with graying temples and kind eyes, approached with practiced efficiency, taking her order for a hamburger, fries, and the beer on tap.
While waiting, she let her gaze wander across the interior space. Everything was made of wood. Floors, tables, walls, and even the exposed-beam ceiling created a cocoon that absorbed sound and light in the most comforting way. The darkness wasn’t oppressive or creepy. Instead, it felt like being wrapped in a favorite blanket, safe and protected from the outside world. She could imagine coming here on a cold, snowy day and immediately feeling at home and warm.
This couldn’t be more different from the assault of tropical pastels and palm trees that had decorated every restaurant she’d encountered in Florida. Not that she’d had many opportunities to explore dining options during her months there, but when desperation had driven her away from her own cooking or the dismal hospital cafeteria, she’d invariably ended up at some Copacabana-themed establishment with fluorescent cocktails and synthetic Caribbean music. She knew it was an exciting atmosphere for many, but she had never felt at home there. Of course, the reason for her extended stay in Florida had certainly negatively affected her enjoyment.
She’d barely ventured out while there—the grocery store, the pharmacy, the doctor’s offices, and then the hospital. Most days, she hadn’t wanted to leave the room at all, her heart too heavy and her body too drained from the constant caretaking. When she did go out, it was always nearby to someplace fast, and usually forgettable.
But this place… this felt raw and real.
Sipping her beer, she noticed a man sliding into a bar seat several stools down from her. He moved with the kindof unconscious confidence that suggested familiarity with the space, settling in as if he belonged there.
His hair was a rich brown that caught golden highlights from the overhead fixtures. It wasn’t long enough to be considered shaggy, but definitely not military precision either. It stuck up slightly at the front, as if he’d run his fingers through it absently on the way in and didn’t give a damn what it looked like. No gel, no careful styling. Just... him.
Well-worn blue jeans that had earned their fading through honest use rather than designer distressing. Scuffed leather boots that spoke of real work, construction maybe, or ranch duties, given Montana's landscape. His navy-blue T-shirt stretched across shoulders and chest that hadn’t been sculpted in any upscale fitness center but instead built through physical labor and practical necessity.
The complete package was undeniably, devastatingly attractive. And it had been far too long since any man had caught her attention with such immediate impact.
When the bartender approached him, she overheard his order, which was so similar to hers. A hamburger with onion rings and a beer.
Onion rings.The words sent a bolt of pure craving through her rumbling stomach. She hadn’t even considered them, but now the thought consumed her attention entirely. The man had ordered without glancing at the menu, which boded well for both his local status and the quality of the kitchen’s offerings.
When the bartender returned to check on her drink, she seized the opportunity.
“Are your onion rings good?”
He chuckled, the sound rich with genuine amusement, and dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “You want to change your order?”
“No, but can I add some as a side along with my fries?” The words tumbled out with more enthusiasm than she’d intended, but hunger had stripped away her usual reserve.
“Not sure you can handle all that food, but I have no problem putting the order in.” His tone was teasing rather than judgmental, and she appreciated the lack of commentary about her appetite.
She wasn’t a stranger to leftovers, and her hotel room’s microwave would handle anything she couldn’t finish tonight. As she glanced back toward the other end of the bar, she found the man’s gaze fixed on her with unmistakable interest. Something that looked like appreciation flickered in his eyes before he spoke.
“I can also attest to the fact that their onion rings are exceptional.”
The realization that his attention was focused on her food choices rather than anything personal about her brought an unexpected smile to her lips. “Good to know. Honestly, as hungry as I am right now, I’d probably eat them even if they were terrible.”
“I know that feeling.” His voice carried the warmth of shared understanding. “But at least now you can be assured you’ll actually enjoy your meal.”
Soon, a man wearing a grease-stained apron stretched tight across his considerable belly emerged from the kitchen carrying a loaded tray. He moved behind the bar with surprising grace for his size, approaching Sadie first and setting down a plate that made her eyes widen in genuine shock. The hamburger was a work of art with a thick, perfectly cooked patty nestled between a golden bun with lettuce and tomato. The fries were hand-cut and still steaming. And the onion rings were a mountain of crispy, beer-battered perfection that could have fed a small family.
What she’d expected as a modest side dish had become a feast worthy of a lumberjack. “That’s a side?” she murmured to herself, eyes widening in disbelief. The server gave no acknowledgment, simply moving down the bar to deliver a similar plate to the man a few stools away. Then he turned and disappeared into the kitchen without a glance back.
“Sorry about Joachim,” the bartender said with a sigh, reaching for a bar towel to wipe down the counter. “He’s not usually that grumpy, but we’re short-staffed tonight. Server called out.”
Sadie offered a small wave of understanding, barely hearing him. She was already focused on the plate in front of her. The scent of perfectly seasoned meat, crispy batter on the onion rings, and fried, salty potatoes created an experience that made her mouth water and her stomach clench with anticipation.
At that moment, the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only her, this glorious plate of food, and the primal need to satisfy months of grief-suppressed appetite. She lifted the burger with both hands, compressing it just enough to fit past her lips, and took her first real bite. The instant the taste hit her tongue, her eyes fluttered shut.
A low, involuntary groan escaped her. The meat was seasoned perfectly, with a tangy sauce mixed with the mayo. And the bun was still warm, like it had come straight off the griddle. The tomato was thinly sliced, the lettuce fresh and crisp. And the melted cheddar oozed over the meat. It was one of the best bites she’d ever had.
She reached for two fries, dragged them through the ketchup on her plate, and shoved them into her mouth. Another groan. Then came the onion rings with their thick, golden, beer-battered crust that crunched audibly when she bit in.
She chased everything with a long pull of cold beer, then returned her attention to the burger to begin the glorious cycle again.
“Damn.”
