It’s just a date. No big deal.

She has repeated that mantra no less than fifty times since she pulled her car into the bookstore’s parking lot, not to mention the number of times she tried tricking herself into believing it as she was getting ready for the night. Still, no matter how many times she tells herself this, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s not true. No part of this is no big deal. In fact, it’s a really huge deal. She can’t remember the last time she went on a date with someone, let alone someone she’s been talking to but hasn’t ever seen with her own eyes. Fortunately, there’s no risk of catfishing here since they’ve already met in person.

She didn’t question her date’s location choice when he offered it up, but now that she’s here, it does seem like an odd venue. Then again, maybe he’s a major bookworm and wants to know what kinds of books she reads, like a test or something. She walks inside and is immediately hit with that scent of old books. She’s not huge on reading, but she can’t deny the appeal of the musty smell. The room is filled with bookshelf upon bookshelf, and there are so many books they’re pretty much everywhere. The shelves are filled to the brim and even the floor in front of each shelf has stacks lined up. If she were a bigger reader she could imagine being in heaven in a place like this. She walks around and sees another room in the corner hidden by a curtain. She’s way too intrigued to pass that by and heads straight toward it.

Though the curtain, she’s met with a smaller room and even more bookshelves. There are more stacks of books on the floor back here as well. There are hundreds of them in this small space, and it looks more like a storage room than an actual part of the store. She starts to turn around when movement catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. There’s a guy standing near one of the shelves, and he’s looking right at her. “What’s the password?”

Tinley looks behind her and back to the man standing in front of her. What is this guy talking about? A password? Is she in the wrong place? She can feel heat travel up her neck as she mumbles out, “Password? I’m supposed to be meeting a date here.”

The guy tips his fedora and pulls on his suspenders. “You mean to tell me your date didn’t tell you about this place?”

“What place is that exactly? He told me we were going to a bookstore. Well, actually he just gave me the name of this place and told me to meet him here, I had to look it up online to find out where it was even located. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re in for a treat then.” Without another word, he walks over to the shelf and pulls down on one of the books. The shelf swings wide open and the low, sultry sound of jazz music flows from within. The lights are dimmed down low, so Tinley isn’t quite sure what’s she getting herself into. The guy standing at the door leans over before she steps in and whispers in her ear, “Enjoy your evening. If anyone asks, the password is Capone.”

She turns back around and looks at him questioningly. “As in Al Capone? That’s weird.”

“You’ll see,” he adds with a wink before turning back around.

Too intrigued to question him any further, she steps fully into the room as the door shuts tightly behind her with a click. A small part of her is scared of the unknown, but a larger part of her is too excited by all the mystery piling onto this evening. Even if it’s a bust with the guy she’s supposed to be meeting, this right here will make the outing worthwhile. She studies her surroundings and finds herself in a long cold stone hallway. The walls are lined with electric candelabras and the music floats into the hallway from speakers overhead.

The light is brighter at the end of the hall and with nowhere else to turn to, she heads in that direction. Her heels click-clack against the cobblestone floors beneath her, and she can’t help but feel transported to 1920s Chicago when Prohibition was in full swing and speakeasies were rampant. Assuming this room was set up to mimic that style, she quickens her pace in excitement to get to the end of the passageway and enter the room.

There’s so much going on, and she has no idea where to look at first, but then her eyes zero directly in on the bar. The wall behind it is lined all the way to the ceiling with different liquor bottles. There have to be hundreds of them, if not a thousand, and that’s exactly where she heads. If her date isn’t here yet, she needs just a little something to help her relax for when he does arrive. She pulls out one of the empty bar stools and takes a seat. It’s still pretty early and there aren’t many customers in the bar, so the bartender comes right over to her. He’s cute with a boy-next-door kind of vibe, and she would totally flirt with him if she weren’t meeting a date here—or maybe he is her date? It’s possible, but she quickly shakes that thought from her mind.

“What can I get you to drink?”

She racks her brain, unsure of what to order. She is normally just a wine drinker, but she feels like that wouldn’t be appropriate in a place like this. There’s an ambiance in here and with the whole speakeasy thing, she wants to stick to that. That definitely doesn’t make her decision on what to get easier though. She remembers something about bathtub gin being a thing back then…or something like that…so she pretends to be fancy and says, “I’m not really sure. What would you suggest with gin in it?”

His mouth drops open and he starts laughing, a full-blown belly laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”

She grimaces slightly. Obviously, that was the wrong answer. “Um, how about a drink menu?”

He continues laughing, nods his head, and grabs a monstrosity from the counter behind him. He drops it in front of her, and she’s pretty sure the thing is thicker than The Cheesecake Factory’s menu. How is that even possible?

The front reads, Fitzgerald’s, home of over four hundred varieties of gin. Well, now she feels like an idiot. No wonder he was laughing his ass off at her inquiry. If she’d known the password to get in here, she sure as hell would have known about the drink menu. She runs her finger down the menu and stops on something called “The Gatsby” then tells the bartender to make her that. She read The Great Gatsby in high school and assumes the drink is named after the famous book, and the combination of gin, cherry liqueur, and orange bitters sounds like it could be pretty tasty.

While he’s making her drink, she continues looking through the menu. She can’t get over how extensive it is. Who knew there were so many different ways to make a gin cocktail? When she reaches the end of the menu, she can’t help but laugh at the limited selection of beer and wine, only four different varieties of each. Guess they’d much rather serve a different kind of crowd here.

As the bartender places the drink on the bar in front of her, she starts to offer her thanks, but the words get caught in her throat. Over his shoulder, in the mirror behind the bar, she spots Marek Outlaw walking in. Shit. How can she have a romantic get-together with her mystery date while her boss is in the room? Talk about awkward. Maybe he won’t spot her and she can slip out and send her date somewhere else. She doesn’t like spending all day with the guy at work; no way she’s going to let him have a front row seat to her date.

Of course, luck is never on her side. As she continues staring at him in the mirror, he looks up and his eyes meet hers. She quickly looks back down to the bar, hoping with everything inside of her that he didn’t see her, or that he’ll at least pretend like he didn’t see her and they can just act like they don’t know each other.

“Tinley Scott, funny running into you here. This doesn’t really seem like your kind of place.”

It’s on the tip of her tongue to tell him she’s actually never been here before and that she’s meeting someone, but something about the way he said it has her all riled up and pissed off. “Oh, because you know me so well that you know what kind of places I go to?”

He motions for the bartender and takes a seat on the stool next to her. She wants to tell him to get up and walk away, but she’s suddenly fascinated by the concoction the bartender is making in front of them. She doesn’t recall Marek actually ordering a drink, but maybe she just wasn’t paying enough attention. Starting off with a shot glass the bartender adds a mixture of Bailey’s and Jameson to the small container. He then reaches for a pint glass and pours Guinness in straight from the tap. It isn’t until he drops the shot glass into the beer and Marek immediately proceeds to down the whole thing that she realizes what just happened.

“What the hell kind of drink was that?”

Marek chuckles and licks off the bit of foam from the top of his lip. Fuck why was that so damn sexy? He leans down close to her and her heart rate speeds up as his lips get so close to hers they’re almost touching. “That would be what you’d call an Irish Car Bomb.”

She can feel his breath on her lips, and if she stuck her tongue out just slightly, she’d be touching his. Before she can get her wits about her, he continues talking. “I don’t know anything about the places where you go. I just meant I’ve been here a time or two and have never seen you here.”

She looks up into the mirror and sees he has the smuggest grin on his face. “For your information, this is my first time coming here, though I don’t really need to explain myself to you. Now, can you please leave? I’m meeting a date and would rather not have you scare him away.”

“Is that so?”

She nods. “It is. In fact, I’ll text him right now. He’s probably already here.” She pulls out her phone and opens the conversation she was having with Mystery Date. Typing up a quick message, she sends it off to him and waits.

She adds a kissing emoji to the end and then contemplates whether or not that was a good idea. She shrugs, takes a large sip of her cocktail, and decides it was the best idea…though that might be the alcohol talking.

She hears a ding, and Marek digs into the front pocket of his jeans then pulls his phone out. He glances down at the screen then up at Tinley, and his eyes go wide. She wants to ask him what’s going on, but instead, he flips his phone around and shows her the message he just got.

No. No. No. This cannot be happening. The gorgeous guy she’s been talking to and completely connecting with cannot be the jerk she works with. There’s no way the universe would be as cruel as that. She looks up at his face and sees the remorse written all over it. She quickly stands up from her bar stool, and her legs start to buckle. He gets up to help her, but she puts her hand in the air to stop him. “I’m sorry, this is a mistake.” She motions between the two of them. “Whatever this is, it can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

Then she grabs her purse and flees the room without a backward glance.