Ten minutes ago, there was nothing you could have said that would make me believe there was any reason to enjoy being in Rose Falls.

Even the guy in my bed this morning hadn’t kept my interest for long—he’d given me a great blowjob last night, sure, but then I had woken up to the sound of him making not one but four very loud phone calls, in quick succession, lying next to me at seven A.M. No blowjob is worth waking up hearing last night’s mistake complain to his friend about having too many Rolexes to choose from for a party.

I have multiple nice watches to choose from, too. I get it. I just tend to keep those decisions to myself.

And aside from the apparent lack of good one-night stand material in this tiny town, there was one other nagging problem: I was bored here. I’d only been here a week, and already I felt like I was going insane. Every store—including bars—seemed to close by midnight. I couldn’t find a decent kombucha to save my life. And everyone was so nice in a way I just couldn’t wrap my head around.

So when this guy—Patrick—ran into me, for the first time I found myself having a little bit of fun in Rose Falls. On the surface, Patrick seemed perfectly nice like everyone else I’d met here. But I could see right through it. Patrick clearly had an edge to him, something bubbling under the surface that he couldn’t quite hold in. He was kind, but he was also shrewd. I could see it when he’d started complaining to me about… well, me.

And, oh, how delicious it was to see how red his face had gotten when I’d told him who I was. It was better than the fire-engine red of my first Ferrari.

From the minute I realized he didn’t recognize me, I knew I wanted to play a little game with him. I hadn’t led him on for too long—after all, I’m known for being a fun person, not a cruel one. But it was still satisfying to see the realization on his face.

And now that I’d had my fun with him, I owed it to him to make him feel better. After all, anything I could do to keep attractive people like him inside my bar rather than out of it was worthwhile.

But a second after I had told him the truth, he practically bolted for the door. He was outside in a flash. I turned and pushed through the heavy door, going after him.

“Patrick!” I called after him. “Come on, I was teasing you—just having a laugh.”

He sped up down the back alleyway, and I was about to let it go. After all, I wasn’t in the business of stalking people, no matter how cute they might be. I knew people inside must have been wondering where I was.

But right when I thought it was a lost cause and that I’d never see Patrick again, he stopped dead in his tracks. He turned on the heel of his boots, the heavy flannel of his shirt sweeping through the air as he turned around. He was dressed more for a day on the farm than to attend a bar opening. Hell, this was Rose Falls, after all—maybe he did work on a farm.

“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said. “I clearly made a fool of myself back there. And I apologize. But I don’t really think anything more needs to be said. I… I feel awful. Can we just pretend it never happened?”

Shit. He really seemed upset, which definitely hadn’t been my intention. I closed the distance between us slowly, the gravel crunching under my feet, as if I were approaching a sad puppy. “If you feel awful, you can make it up to me by coming back inside the bar and letting me make another drink for you,” I said. “It would really be my pleasure.”

He shook his head, pushing a lock of sandy-brown hair away from his eyes. It was funny how much he looked like the quintessential small-town guy. He was attractive, but in a very boy-next-door way—a far cry from the models and fitness gurus that I usually went for.

He let out a long sigh as he leaned back against the brick wall at the back of the building. “Listen, it’s been a long day, alright? I think I should get back—”

“Patrick, you don’t actually think I’m mad, do you?”

His eyes met mine, a shock of green just a shade duller than the spring leaves. “I mean, who wouldn’t be mad hearing that stuff about themselves?”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I… have had far worse things said about me—both to my face and behind my back. If anything, I thought it was kind of cute what you said back there.”

“Cute?” he asked, his voice rising an octave.

I nodded. “Sure. I all but revolutionized the bar scene in my neighborhood of D.C. I had plenty of people hating on me down there, I assure you. And I’m sure I’ll have a handful of people mad at me the second I walk back into Cobalt because I’m supposed to be at my own bar opening right now, but instead I’m out back, talking to this adorable guy that bumped into me.”

His eyes widened for a split second before his face settled into a vague frown again. “Why were you all the way in the back instead of up front, where… where I thought you were?”

“I had to take a quick business call out back,” I said. “I felt guilty about it at the time, but now I’ve been outside far longer than I ever intended. Not that I really mind.”

Patrick was silent for a few moments, looking at me as if he couldn’t decide if I was real. A chilly evening breeze blew past us, and I reached down to brush a stray cherry blossom petal off of my suit. I was trying to think of who Patrick reminded me of—I swore there was some guy I’d hooked up with last month who looked just like him. Was his name Tim? Tom? It was hard to keep track nowadays.

But the longer I looked at Patrick, the more I realized it might have been a trick of my mind. Because I didn’t think I’d ever slept with anyone who looked like him. There was a sincerity to his face that most of my casual hookups hadn’t even come close to having. Patrick was sort of beautiful in a rough way, even if he did come to a bar opening looking like a farmhand.

“Come back inside. It’s getting a little cold out here, isn’t it? I’ll make you another Stella Riviera.”

He smiled at me for the first time, and it softened his face. “You mean you actually make drinks? You’re not just… the rich investor who owns the bar and then gets other people to do the job for you?”

His words hit hard. He couldn’t know it, but I had built everything I had from the ground up, and nothing hurt more than knowing what many people in the general public thought of me: that I was just a rich guy, cashing in on bar trends and living the playboy lifestyle.

But Patrick didn’t know the hurt in my past. “I’m only successful because after Leanne, the love of my life, repeatedly cheated on me and left me, I had nothing else good in my life except devotion to my work”—the truth—didn’t exactly roll off the tongue when introducing yourself to someone.

And I couldn’t blame Patrick for not knowing that. So I just smiled back. “Why don’t you come find out?”

* * *

“So, I’m offended, Patrick,” I said as I stepped behind the bar.

He furrowed his brow at me as he slid onto the only open barstool near the end. “Why’s that?”

“You clearly didn’t read about me in the paper this morning.”

It looked like he was trying hard to hold back a grin. “And how do you know that?”

“Because otherwise you would have recognized this beautiful face.” I winked at him.

He hitched one shoulder up in a shrug. “I didn’t really have the time to be reading this morning,” he said.

“I’m sure you could find the article online. Go ahead and look it up for me—maybe before bed tonight.”

He rolled his eyes before pulling out his phone. Quickly he began tapping away at the screen. “Yeah, the article is the first thing that comes up when I search for ‘Taran Vallas Rose Falls.’ But oh, this second result looks a lot more interesting…”

“What is it?”

“It’s a really catchy headline—‘Cobalt to Open in Rose Falls Tonight—Will This Be Taran Vallas’ First Flop?’”

I furrowed my brow. “What website wrote that?”

“Oh, just a little one called the Washington Post. Wow—this is interesting—the second paragraph is all about how you’re as well known for your bars as you are for your ‘Casanova personality.’ They say that you run through all the hot models wherever you are, male and female alike.”

“Alright, put your phone away, forget I told you to read about me,” I said. “These newspapers… they embellish.”

Patrick was smirking at me.

“So, is this what you do for all the guys you try to pick up?” he said. “Make drinks for them?”

I lifted an eyebrow at him and shook my head. “No. It’s actually pretty rare that I make people drinks while I’m trying to flirt.”

“So you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“I am,” I said, nodding and looking him in the eye. “And I’ll stop the minute you tell me you want me to.”

A little bit of that pink flush came back to his cheeks as he smiled, but he didn’t respond.

“So why is it rare that you make people drinks?” he said finally.

I shrugged. “I don’t need someone to be drunk to make them like me. I’m not in the business of tricking people into things. I don’t want someone unless they want me back, and they’re sure they want me back.”

Patrick’s eyes lingered on me for a moment. “Can’t argue with that,” he said finally. “I’m the same way, sort of. I hate the whole hookup culture that seems to be the norm nowadays.”

Shit. If he didn’t like the hookup culture, he sure as hell wasn’t going to like me. “Hookup culture” may as well have had a picture of my face next to it in the phrase dictionary. Leanne had been the only truly serious relationship I’d ever had—I’d almost married her in my early twenties before the relationship totally crumbled. And ever since then, it had been almost all casual sex.

“You hate it, eh?” I asked him.

He nodded. “It’s gross, really. Why would I want to be so physically intimate with someone if I didn’t know them well beforehand? It’s fine if other people do it, I just can’t. Feels like a waste to me.”

To me, it felt like a waste that Patrick didn’t want to have casual sex with me.

As soon as I started in on the cocktail, a couple local photographers came forward and started snapping away. What I thought would be making a simple drink turned into a photo op that I didn’t expect, even though I probably should have.

“Mr. Vallas, welcome to Rose Falls,” one of them said. I noticed the badge around his neck said Rose Falls Gazette.

“Thank you,” I said, giving him a big smile as I twisted a lemon peel over Patrick’s drink.

“How are you liking it here in town so far?”

I paused for a moment, trying to bite my tongue. The answer that immediately came to mind was that I couldn’t fucking wait to leave Rose Falls, that even a handful of weeks here was going to be way too much. But even for me, that felt a little harsh.

“It’s… good,” I said finally, looking over the bar at Patrick. “Especially getting to meet fine Rose Falls residents like this man here.”

The man from the Gazette turned to Patrick. “And you, sir? Are you enjoying the opening night here at Cobalt?”

“Sure,” Patrick said. “The cocktails really are amazing, I can tell you that.”

“Can we get a photo of the two of you?” the man said, holding up his camera. Patrick cut his eyes over at me as if he was unsure.

“Absolutely,” I said, sliding the drink over the bar at Patrick and leaning toward him. I put my hand gently on his shoulder as the photographer took the picture. If Patrick were anyone else I was trying to flirt with, I’d have rubbed his back, but I had a feeling that wouldn’t quite go over well with him. I’d only known the man for all of twenty minutes, and already I could tell that he most likely was not the type to have casual hookups. He seemed slightly skittish, like he was interested in me, but would never admit it to himself.

“I just have a few more questions for you for the Gazette,” the man said after taking the photo. “First, are you looking to move here to Rose Falls?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m here to help set up the bar and get things rolling. But my home is back in D.C.”

“And you think your bar will be fine without your presence here?”

“Absolutely. I hire amazing managers, and my managers hire amazing staff. Whether I’m here or not, Cobalt will be a shining star in Rose Falls.” I was wondering how much longer he would be around—I wanted to be talking to Patrick, not this reporter.

“Great,” the man said, flipping back open a little black book of notes in front of him. “Just one last question—how do you think the opening of Cobalt will affect other local bars? Are you worried you’re going to put smaller, mom-and-pop bars out of business?”

I furrowed my brow. “No. Of course not. Any bar worth its salt would only benefit from more bars being nearby. People love a good pub crawl. And, hell, any bar that closes down because of me was probably already on its way down, right?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Vallas,” the reporter said.

When I turned back to Patrick, I found that he’d reverted back to the same deer-in-the-headlights look he’d had outside. I needed to warm him back up again, fast.

“I’ve been talking about myself so much I haven’t gotten to hear anything about you,” I said, leaning against the bar. “What do you do around here, Patrick? Do you have a farm nearby?”

He shook his head. “No. I am a small business owner, though,” he said before taking a large sip of his drink.

“Oh yeah? And what is it you—”

“Taran!” a voice shouted from behind me, and instantly I felt my chances with Patrick dwindling yet again. It seemed like I could barely get a minute alone to talk to him. Back in D.C., I’d had my go-to hookup options: people who knew me, knew that I didn’t have time for any serious relationship, and were always ready in my cell phone if I was in the mood. But I didn’t have that here yet.

And whoever was distracting me from Patrick was making it even less likely that I’d be able to rustle something up with him tonight.

I spun around to see Madeline, though, and instantly any annoyance was replaced with happiness. Of course it was her—Madeline was my best friend and the reason I had even considered opening Cobalt in Rose Falls. Madeline had recently moved here with her wife Gretchen, and she had heavily invested in the opening of Cobalt. She knew that she wanted a bar here similar to the ones I had opened in D.C., and I had promised her that I would help out.

She’d even tried to get me to move to Rose Falls, but I’d laughed at that prospect. I told her I would stay for a few weeks, or a couple months at the most, to get the bar on its feet and ensure that it was running smoothly before I returned to D.C.

There was no way in hell I could stay in a small town like this.

“Maddy, you’re here,” I said, returning her hug. “How has your day been?”

“Both terrible and wonderful,” she said with a wide smile, flipping back her long hair. Madeline was decked out in her most glittery red dress, and she held her usual whiskey sour in one hand. “Come mingle with me, and we can talk?”

I nodded and then leaned over toward Patrick, who was nearly halfway through his drink already. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

He puffed out a small laugh and shook his head. “I’m not making any promises.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “Don’t go. I want to talk to you more.”

He met my eyes, and I saw the look on his face change from amusement to something else. Like he might be doubting me.

“I’m really enjoying talking with you. I mean it.”

He nodded, searching my face. “Okay. I won’t go.”

“Good,” I said. I gave him one last look before walking over to catch up with Madeline.

She quickly launched into her usual colorful stories about her new life in Rose Falls as we made our way to the main lounge area. Madeline and I had been inseparable down in the city, and she had been one of the main reasons I had moved there in the first place, over a decade ago. We talked briefly about the bar and opening night before she put her hand on my arm again, giving me a serious look.

“I know you’re in celebration mode tonight, and I promise I’m going to leave you alone soon. But how are you doing? I mean, how are you really doing, up here all alone in this small town?”

I laughed. “All alone? I don’t love being in a small town, but I can certainly tell you I haven’t been all alone.”

“Let me guess—you’ve been in Rose Falls for all of one week, and you’ve already slept with a new person for each day of the week?”

“Well,” I said, “no. But close. Last night I found a particularly cute guy, but he turned out to be a dud.”

“Oh, poor you,” Madeline said.

“Yeah, poor me. I don’t know why you want to live here,” I said, keeping my voice low. We were surrounded by people who would likely never visit the bar again if they found out my true feelings for their town.

“You make it sound like I’m camping out in the middle of a deserted forest or something,” Madeline said.

“I mean… if you drive thirty minutes in any direction you will be in the middle of nowhere,” I said.

“I take it you’re not a fan? The town isn’t growing on you? Even with the gorgeous spring season, blooming all around you? It’s idyllic, Taran.”

I hitched up a shoulder. “It’s… fine. Cute, I guess. It’s certainly artsy, and the college is nice. But... it’s no home for me, Maddy.”

She looked at me with some mixture of disappointment, pity, and love.

“I’m glad you like it so far, though,” I said.

“I really do. I’ve only been here two months, but… it’s exactly what Gretchen and I wanted, Taran. I need a slower pace. I’m getting older, y’know?”

I snorted. “Only you would think that turning thirty-six means you’re ‘getting old,’” I said. “We’re still in the prime of our lives.”

“Not old, just older,” she said. “I don’t know. I just feel like I can breathe better up here.”

“Well, I guess that part is true,” I said. “It’s weird—I grew up an hour away from here, but coming back to New York State feels like I’m on a vacation, somehow. Even though I’ve been working, I don’t feel like it’s been dominating my life, for the first time in… a decade, probably.”

She nodded. “Exactly. See? It’s easier to have a life outside of just working all the time and fucking different people every night, isn’t it?”

“My whole life is work and sex. You know that.”

I glanced back toward the bar and eyed Patrick. He had been looking over at me but quickly averted his gaze when I caught his eyes.

“And that guy sitting at the end of the bar is definitely someone I am hoping to get to know,” I said softly.

Madeline surreptitiously cut her eyes over toward Patrick. “Oh, Jesus, Taran, you can’t sleep with him. You guys will hook up for a while, then you’ll inevitably move on, and it’ll be the same as always with you.”

I shrugged. “Not everyone wants a long-term thing. Maybe Patrick would be okay with just hooking up.”

“That’s what you said about Matt, and Vance, and Tim, and Sarah, and—”

“Okay, okay, enough,” I said. “I know I’m… bad at relationships. But I’m always honest about it. I never lie to anyone. My work is more important to me, and I’m not looking for anyone’s hand in marriage. If people choose to be offended by that, it’s their own problem. There’s no harm in trying, right?”

“I suppose not,” she said with a shrug. “But don’t come complaining to me if you sleep with the guy from two doors down and then it gets awkward having to see him every time you walk down this street.”

“Wait,” I said, “What do you mean, two doors down? You know my apartment is a top-floor loft. I don’t have any neighbors.”

She hitched an eyebrow up. “Wait a minute. Are you serious?”

“…Yes, Maddy, I told you all about the apartment I rented—”

“No, not about the apartment. I’m saying, you don’t know who that guy is?”

I shrugged. “What’s to know? He lives in Rose Falls, he’s probably got some sort of farming supply store, he’s cute. If I have my way, I’d love to sleep with him. It’s that simple.”

A concerned look fell over her face. “Taran, darling… Patrick owns the bar two doors down. Brew for You.”

“Brew for who?”

“You haven’t even looked at the competition on this street, Taran?”

“Oh, that little divey coffee and beer bar?” I said. “I didn’t even consider that to be competition. God, Patrick owns that place?”

I looked back over at him and saw him taking a sip of his cocktail, then wiping away a stray droplet of drink from his chin with his sleeve. That man was a bar owner?

“Yes. And his bar isn’t a dive bar. Gretchen and I have gone there a couple times. It’s very mom-and-pop—nothing like what you do—but it’s a cute place. Looks like it’s straight out of the seventies, even though it opened a couple years ago.”

“I don’t usually go for the… rustic look,” I said, not knowing if I was speaking more about Brew for You or Patrick himself.

“But the fact remains, you probably shouldn’t sleep with him.”

“Madeline, I haven’t gotten where I am today by only doing what I should do.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said.

After talking with Maddy for a few more minutes, I was itching to get back to Patrick. I gave her a big hug and then made my way back behind the bar. Patrick was nearing the end of his drink.

“Time for another,” I said quickly, already reaching for a new glass for him. “I’m gonna have one too.”

He shook his head, smiling a little. “No thanks,” he said. “I probably should be getting back to work.”

I eyed him. “I guess we both have bars to run, huh?” I said.

A brief look of shock, and then understanding, passed over his face. “Somebody told you, didn’t they?” he asked softly.

I nodded.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier. I just….”

“I don’t care, Patrick,” I said.

“You don’t?”

I shook my head. “Not even a little bit. I’m way more interested in you than your bar, anyway.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“I’m just saying, it’s no big deal that you didn’t tell me, and I’m certainly not mad about it.”

“Okay. Then I guess I’ll try not to lose any sleep over it.”

I bit my lip for a second. I had been holding myself back all night, and I couldn’t any longer. I wanted Patrick. I was used to getting what I wanted. And I wasn’t going to be shy about letting him know it.

“Sure. You should come lose sleep at my apartment instead,” I said finally.

He was watching me closely, not responding, but he certainly didn’t seem to be recoiling. I wasn’t going to pressure him, but if he wanted to break his no-hookups rule for one night, I wanted to be available for him.

The moment stretched out taut between us.

“I’ll be here until two in the morning, when we close,” I said, cleaning up his empty glass and wiping down the bar in front of him. “I’d rather not go home alone.”

“You’re bold, you know that?” he said, squinting slightly at me. But then he began to smile. He was enjoying this as much as I was.

“I know,” I said. “It’s your choice. If you’re still awake, then swing by at two. Totally up to you, of course.”

Just then Patrick’s phone began to ring, the loud jingle cutting through the din of the bar. He answered, and his face fell quickly as he listened.

“Jesus. Okay. I will be there.” He hung up fast and practically fell over trying to put on his flannel. The barstool clattered underneath him.

“Do you need a glass of water, Patrick?” I asked.

“I’m not drunk,” he said, any hint of flirty warmth completely gone now. “I have to go, Taran. Good luck with your bar.”

He was gone just as abruptly as he’d bumped into me.