She looked up into the face of a bartender with a dimpled smirk tipping his lips. Propping her elbow on the bar top, she rested her chin in her palm. “Reality just yanked my fantasy rug out from under me. I discovered—again—that I can’t quit my job yet.”
“Ah. I can definitely sympathize. I usually fix myself a cocktail so I can find a new reality. Can I get you one?”
“A new reality or a cocktail?”
A warm laugh rumbled through him. “I’m afraid my superpower only goes as far as cocktails.”
She glanced up at the bottles behind him. “How about a shot of your best reposad0?” His eyebrows tapped the messy blond waves along his hairline. “No, scratch that. I shouldn’t be ordering anything that expensive. How about a house margarita instead? That way if it’s really crappy tequila, it won’t matter as much.”
Normally, she was a vodka girl, but when times got tough, tequila became her go-to.
“Beautifulandlogical. You got it.” His dimples deepened with his widening grin, which he then turned on a trio of girls on the other side of the bar. The stars in their eyes broadcast how swoon-worthy they found the guy. Was it really that easy?
As Hailey watched his hands fly over the drink fixings, her sister’s words floated through her head. Whathadmotivated her to become afood inspector? It wasn’t as if the profession topped every little girl’s wish list. Her childhood aspirations had included astronaut, actress, and anthropologist. And those were only theA’s.
She rewound the time machine to the point where she’d struck off on the path she now followed. It started when she’d chosen Biology as her college major. When she’d graduated with that shiny degree, though, she had been faced with few job prospects unless she went for a higher degree. She’d had neither the funds nor the steam to go for initials behind her name, so she’d taken a hard pass on that option.
While wallowing in Denver at Kaylee’s, she’d become intrigued with teaching. Her sister was a tenured elementary teacher with great benefits, a fat pension if she stuck it out, and several months off each year. The stability and security of a government job—with an annual break—became Hailey’s new aspiration.
But then reality had reared its ugly head again. She needed a teaching certificate, which meant more education, and there was that other niggling detail: teachers didn’t earn much, and Hailey had a big dream to fund.
“Why not look for a state job where you can put your degreeandpast experience to work?” Kaylee had said one day.
Hailey had stumbled across a position as a food inspector in Delta, and that’s when her way forward had become clear. She had worked at restaurants for over a decade—as a teen to support herself and her father and later to finance her education—and she knew kitchens. She’d applied for the job and landed it. Then she’d worked hard, making herself invaluable as she took on more responsibility. The compensation followed. When Montrose had advertised an opening to head their department, she’d gone for it—another step up the ladder to the land of bigger and better. Except tonight a few rungs had been sawed in half.
With a sigh, she pulled up her reading app, ready to submerge herself in a pretend life that was way better than her own.
The bartender chose that moment to deliver her drink. “A Ben’s Special. Give it a try.”
A glance at his name tag revealed his name was, unsurprisingly, Ben. “I get the Ben part, but what makes the drink special?”
“I added a little this, a little that. Masks the crappy tequila.” He flashed another easy smile.
She swiped at the rim with the tip of her tongue and swallowed a satisfying burst of tartness and salt. “Oh, nice job, Ben. And exactly what I needed.”
His eyes flared with something resembling lust. “Glad to know I could be of service. You let me know if there’s anything else you need.” He sent her a knowing wink. “I’m off at eleven.”
Oh, this guy was good. “Thanks. If I do, you’ll be the first one I tell.”
As he walked away, the three women nearly fell off their barstools ogling his ass. It was a nice ass, she’d give him that, but that was all she’d give him. The offer gave her ego a much-needed booster shot, and while it was tempting, her answer would be the same as always: no. Bartenders probably hooked up all the time, and she wasn’t interested in being another desperate bar groupie—even if shewas, in fact,desperate.
The scene brought to mind a smoking-hot bartender with an equally enthusiastic fan club who shook a mean drink in Fall River—a place she had yet to return to. The town’s neglected buildings with their faded lap siding often danced through her mind, leaving her with a weird desire to revisit the place whose shine had worn off long ago. Sadly, she’d lost her chance when the town’s inspections, including the Miners Tavern, had been shifted to Dolores County. The bar had passed without any derogatory notes, leaving her with an unexpected frisson of relief.
Ben gave her a side-eye—being a good barkeep, he was probably checking her drink, right?—and she quickly returned to her reading app. Unable to focus on the story she’d found so engrossing before her world imploded, she turned her attention to an overhead TV showing a late hockey game that featured the Blizzard, her favorite Colorado team. God, she loved watching their games—and a few of their players she was crushing on—but even the hot and sweaty hunks couldn’t distract her from her dismal future.
At least Kaylee’s life was brightening. Could this Vince guy be her sister’s soul mate? And if he was, would that mean Hailey rode in the backseat from now on? Selfishly, her mind wandered to whose shoulder she would cry on.
A giggle burst from the woman half of the cozy couple, and the way the man looked at her nearly made Hailey weep with want.
Ben snagged her attention with a chin lift. “Need anything?”
Yes, your shoulder to cry on.She might not want all that Ben offered, but she could sure use that one body part. Bartenders were good at that stuff. They had an uncanny ability to get people to open up—metaphorically speaking. Did they learn that skill as they gained experience, or were they already predisposed? It was the age-old chicken-before-the-egg question.
The urge to suck down a second drink bloomed inside her, but she resisted. “No, thanks. I’m ready to cash out.”
She didn’t miss the disappointment in his features. If she were ever lucky enough to find that one special guy, the encounter would be big and bold and dramatic. A real knock-her-off-her-feet experience. Definitely not a hookup with some hot barkeep.
Chapter 6
