Page 101 of The Problem with Perfect

Biting my lip, I nod again.

“One vodka cran, coming up.”

I get started making her drink, tugging out a tall glass and filling it with ice then grabbing the vodka and pouring in two shots. The cranberry is next, and I fill the rest of the glass before garnishing it with a lime.

“Here you go,” I say, popping in a straw then setting it on a napkin in front of her. “Anything else?”

She takes a sip then gives me another smile.

“This is all for now.”

I bob my head. “I’m gonna make a few more drinks, but I’ll be back,” I tell her, and I see the way her eyes brighten.

As I stroll to the other end of the bar to fulfill drink orders for a table in the corner, I try to remember her name. McKenna? McKayla? Something like that. She told me yesterday when she came in with a big group of friends who are in town for some sort of trip.

Those friends are nowhere to be seen today, though. She’s returned alone, and the way her eyes are devouring me gives off the vibe that she wants to have a little fun with the tattooed bartender while she’s on vacation.

I pop the tops off a few Coronas and shove limes into each of the necks, then I place them on a round serving tray at the end of the bar. I flag Tessa to pick up the tray that’s heading to table six then turn to head back to where the blonde is still eyeing me.

“So what does a guy like you get up to when he’s not working behind the bar?” she asks as her hand absentmindedly stirs her drink.

I shrug and lean back against the counter along the back wall.

“Trouble.”

I know I’ve said the right thing when she bites her lip. That action says she wants me to tease her and take her to bed, then tease her some more.

“Oh yeah? What kind of trouble?”

I step forward then reach out to brace myself against the bar and lean closer to her, close enough that I can smell the faint scent of her fading sunscreen.

“If you wanna findthatout, you gotta give me your number first.”

At that, McKenna leans to her right and snags the black billfold from where another customer paid for their tab. Dragging the pen out, she jots her digits on the little white napkin I gave her with her drink then slides it toward me.

I glance at it on the bar.

McKenzie.That’s her name.

“I’m here for two more nights,” she tells me. “My guess is they’d be a lot more fun spent with you than my sisters.”

My eyebrows rise, remembering the group of ten or so women she came in with yesterday.

“You have a big family,” I joke.

She giggles again. “Sororitysisters,” she clarifies, lifting her hands in what looks remarkably like a gang sign. “Kappa Kappa Gamma! We’re on spring break, visiting from Phoenix.”

I bob my head, my plans for the evening deflating at the realization that this chick is probably barely old enough to be ordering that drink she has in front of her. It’s been a long time since I’ve forgotten to card someone.

My mind scrambles as I try to come up with an excuse, something that doesn’t hurt the girl’s feelings but frees me from using the number on that napkin.

Before anything comes to mind, the entry door flies open, the fading sunlight from outside streaming in as a tiny blur races across the room and around the bar with a brilliant smile on her face.

“I found it! I found it! I found it!” her voice repeats over and over until she’s just a foot away from me, her eyes bright, the excitement clear in just about every part of her face.

I return her smile, unable to help myself.

“And just what, exactly, did you find?” I ask.

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