Charlie’s Pub was exactly as I had imagined when Jake described it. It was an old-fashioned place with two beers on tap, served you popcorn while you waited, and Charlie really was the name of the bartender.

In a way, the place reminded me of Barnes’ Bar in Sugar Tree. I wondered if Charlie was worried about his social media presence. Something told me he didn’t really care.

“Well, you look like you’re dressed up for some kind of date,” Charlie said, filling up a glass. “You look nice.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” He grinned as he set the Lagunitas IPA that I’d ordered on the bar. He had a long white beard and glasses. Even though I’d just met him, he put me at ease, like we’d known each other for years.

By the time I got home, the humidity had shot up. Instead of grabbing a jacket, I’d changed into a more comfortable summer wardrobe for the bar. I had put on a striped white-and-gray mini skirt and a loose, low-cut white tank top with a pastel bralette. I had thought for a minute about throwing on some heels, but I figured I’d be standing all night anyway, so I nixed that idea. Last minute, I’d refreshed my makeup and made sure the loose braid I’d had at the game was still intact. I didn’t want to seem like I was trying that hard.

“Now that’s a cute little accent you’ve got there,” Charlie said, leaning his arms against the bar. “Let me guess. You’re from North Carolina—the mountains?”

I blushed a little. It was weird, but Charlie reminded me a little bit of my Grandpa and made me feel so comfortable that my Tennessee accent was beginning to sneak out more than it usually did.

“Not quite,” I said, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m from Sugar Tree, Tennessee.”

“Well, it’s a lovely accent you’ve got,” Charlie continued. “Reminds me a little of my wife.”

“Oh, is she from Tennessee?”

“She was from East Texas.”

“Was...?”

“She died three years ago. Married thirty-two years. God rest her soul.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bring it up…”

“You’re fine. I’m grateful I had those thirty-two.” He smiled softly, and for a few seconds, his gaze become a little unfocused, as though he were remembering something. “So,” he said, changing the subject. “You’re not here dressed like that for a drink at my bar. Are you meeting someone for a date?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, he must be a very lucky guy. What’s his name?”

“Jake.”

He eyed me weirdly. “You’re not talking about the Jake I think you’re talking about, are you?”

I hesitated, not knowing if Jake would appreciate it if I gave up his identity. “Well, what Jake do you think I am talking about?”

“The Big Unit, of course. Who else?”

I almost choked on my beer hearing this old man say The Big Unit. And then I realized that he was talking about Jake’s incredible pitching arm, not his other big unit.

There was only one other person in the bar, a token thirty-year old frat bro type that had arrived shortly after I had and sat at the other end of the bar. I figured it didn’t matter since it sounded like Jake came here often and knew Charlie.

“Yes. The Big Unit should be here pretty shortly.”

When I said the words, I swore I noticed the guy at the other end of bar perk up.

“You must be a very special lady,” Charlie said, stroking his beard and slowly nodding.

“Yeah right. I’m sure he takes all of his girls here.”

Charlie let out a hearty, Santa-Claus-like laugh. “You don’t know him very well, do you?”

“I mean, I’ve known him for almost two weeks now. But everybody knows about his...reputation with women.”

Charlie smiled. “I’ve known that boy for years. He’s had women chasing him his whole life. There’s not too many he chases back, though.”

I scrunched my brow. “So what are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying you’re a lucky girl, that’s all. He’s never brought a girl to my bar. Make whatever you want of that.”

I wanted to continue our conversation, but at that moment the door swung open and Jake appeared.

“Charlie! My man!” Jake boomed as he walked toward the bar. They hugged across the bar, which wasn’t a problem since they were both massive. “You’re not swooping in on my girl, are you?”

“I thought about it, but I decided I’d back down and let you have this one,” Charlie said with a wink. Then he moved aside to pour a glass of beer.

“Well, well, I think I like this outfit even better, especially the skirt,” Jake said, putting his hands on my back while he stood behind me. He moved his strong hands lightly on the flesh of my shoulders, and I instantly felt rewarded for my decision to wear a strappy tank top.

“I don’t know how the humidity goes up twenty percent in an hour, but it did,” Jake commented.

“That means the rain’s coming,” Charlie chimed in, passing Jake a Guinness. Jake hadn’t even needed to tell the man what he wanted. “I can tell.”

Charlie walked over to the other end of the bar, toward the other customer. Jake sat down on the barstool next to me, man-spreading his legs. I swiveled my chair to face him, and he put a hand on my leg.

“Well, I’m glad you changed,” Jake said, running his eyes up and down my body. “I didn’t think it was possible that you could get sexier than the jeans and T-shirt you were in. I love the girl-next-door look on you. But this skirt and top gives you more of a ‘hottie at the bar’ look. Which is cool, because we are in a bar. And you are a hottie.”

I rolled my eyes at Jake’s joke. “You really have a one-track mind, don’t you?”

“Well, two tracks, I think. Baseball is a track. And you’re a track. I used to have a one-track mind—baseball only. And then I met you. I added a track.”

I tried real hard not to let that go to my head and changed the topic to a safer one. “Speaking of tracks, when are you going to let me change the track you are on with social media? You need to change up your strategy.”

“My strategy with you? I think I’ve got you right where I want you. In a dive bar. Looking sexy as hell in a skirt that’s maybe a little too short, but it doesn’t matter because there’s hardly anyone around. And you’re turned toward me with your legs pointed right at me, and I’m basically getting hard just staring at them.”

I swallowed hard, my heart thumping like a racehorse after the Kentucky Derby as Jake stared into my eyes with a slight smirk. The only thought that came to me was disbelief that a man as sexy as him would think that about me. For my whole life, I’d dealt with men telling me through their words or actions that I was somehow not right for them. They were intimidated by my strength, or thought that I was weird because I was a girl who was obsessed with sports.

Maybe some of them were simply intimidated because I could throw a ball faster than them.

And now here I was, listening to man whose poster I had owned tell me that I was making his night just by being my normal self.

The thought was too much. It made me want to run out of the bar like I had in the middle of our first date at Marseille Club. Instead, I steadied myself and steered the conversation back to the thing that Jake continued to fight me on—cleaning up his image. I’d made progress, but it was still a work in progress.

“Jake, this is serious. Your social media stuff, I mean. Just let me post one picture. Pretty please with sugar on top?”

Jake took out his phone and flipped it around in his hand a few times.

“Okay. I’ll let you, but just so you know, I’m not just giving in because I like you. And your short skirt,” he said but then cleared his throat and darted his eyes down at his phone. “I’m letting you do this because I trust you. I don’t know what it is about you exactly, but I just feel like you get me.”

I smiled softly as I took his phone.

“Can you unlock this for me?”

I took out my own phone and sent him the picture I had taken of him giving Tate a high five. He keyed in his code and then handed me his phone. From the message to myself, I loaded it up to his Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, adding a filter. I filled it up with hashtags and added the simplest caption I could think of: Just coaching future star player Tate on the South Side. Love the passion these kids bring to the game.

“Now, was that really so hard?”

“Not when I have someone so sexy to stare at and keep me occupied while it’s being posted.”

I handed him back his phone, realizing what this gesture meant to him, and how much it meant to me. In the past few days, he’d started opening up to me, but I hadn’t opened up to him as much. I’d told him some things but kept hesitating. He had let me into his life a little, let me see part of it, and it wasn’t just about sleeping with me. I mean, he still wanted to, but when he said he liked me, I felt it. I could see it on his face, and it made me want to return that trust. But I was still scared and uncertain. Now I was the one who was holding something back, not Jake.

“Thank you for trusting me, Jake,” I said. “I’ve figured out that you don’t trust just anybody…” I breathed in and then out, his gaze never leaving my face. Moment of truth, something I’d been wanting to tell him for a while. “Jake. We really need to talk about something.”

I couldn’t shake the past skeletons in my closet that kept popping out ever since I’d started spending time with Jake.

“You know how you said I get you?”

Jake nodded and took a slow sip of his Guinness. Nervously, I took a drink of my beer and pushed the glass aside.

“Well, I feel like that too, and I don’t know why. But there is something I need to tell you. That I should have told you.”

Jake’s face suddenly looked genuinely concerned, the always-on smirk surprisingly disappeared from his face. “Anything.”

I was at the brink of telling him my shameful secret, the real reason Grant and I had broken up. But at the last second, I decided this wasn’t the time. Besides, I had something else on my mind that was bothering me a little, something I was sure Jake was wondering about.

“You’ve been so patient with me,” I said. “And I wanted to explain a little. The other night, when I stopped us from hooking up. I feel bad.”

A look of concern flashed on his face. He put a hand on my bare knee. I wasn’t sure if he meant to comfort me or to seduce me, but the effect was both.

“Don’t feel bad,” he said. “Never feel bad about stating what you think and how you feel, or what you want. I did make that clear, right?”

“Yes, you did.” I smiled. “Very clear. I know I stopped us from going all the way. But, the thing was, I did want to hook up with you. It’s just, I come from a somewhat conservative background.”

“Okay…so, what does that mean?” Jake asked, his eyes on me as his thumb slid back and forth against my skin.

He was making this even more difficult because he was turning me on, and I needed to focus. “Um, well, after middle school, my mother transferred me to an all-girls Catholic school. I was so focused on softball and trying to get a scholarship, I really didn’t have much time to go after boys or go on dates. And then, of course, my one college relationship ended up being a disaster. Grant and I…uh…I mean, we fooled around a lot, but we never went…all the way.”

Jake’s jaw dropped. His hand fell away as he stared at me for a moment without saying anything, then he finished his Guinness and ordered another one, still silent.

He was freaking me out with his silence. What was he thinking? “Jake, I know—”

“I have a hard time believing that a girl as sexy as you—has never had sex,” he cut in, still looking doubtful at my claim. “Well, in the classical sense, anyway. So, you’re a virgin?”

Oh God, was I really admitting this to Jake, a serial womanizer? I gulped, nerves swarming me. “Yes.”

“And you’ve never even had a one-night stand?”

I took a breath and said, “No...never.”

“And this is because of your Catholic upbringing,” he added, not really a question, nor a statement.

“Well, partially. Maybe. I don’t know… Maybe I’ve just never met anyone I was both attracted to and trusted enough to go all the way with. Until…now. Sorry. I don’t want to freak you out.”

Jake put his Guinness down on the bar, placing his hand on my thigh, under the edge of my skirt, sending goosebumps all over my body.

“You’re telling me you’re a virgin. And you want to have sex…with me?”

I swallowed and took a sip of my drink. I was a little surprised that Jake was surprised.

“Oh come on,” I said, trying to play this off as no big deal. But his reaction wasn’t what I’d expected, and I really had no idea what to expect. “Plus, it’s not like I’m totally inexperienced. I’ve done…stuff. I just haven’t gone all the way. I’m sure I’m not the first girl who has said this to you. That they wanted you to be the one.”

Jake scoffed. “Are you inferring that I have loads of girls just coming to me, asking me to take their v-cards?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. I’ve seen your Instagram.”

A slow, warm smile spread across Jake’s face, and he took a long, deliberate swig of his drink. “You—of all people—should know that you can’t believe everything you see on social media and the tabloids,” he said, amused. “I’m everyone’s friend, remember? I take pictures with anyone that wants one. If it looks like something that isn’t, it’s not on me to explain it or defend it, especially if I think it’s harmless. But I get it now, how if that’s all the public sees, they start to really think it’s true. Even people that may know better.”

A wave of butterflies spread through me. I sat there, speechless at how astute his observation was. Jake was completely, utterly right. I was his social media manager. If there was one person who shouldn’t have been fooled by pictures of him and pretty models on his Instagram, it should have been me. I was wrongly jumping to conclusions and assuming a lot based on very little, just like everyone had. Even worse, at the very beginning, I’d known that I couldn’t take every picture of him at face value, but I’d wondered, and that doubt was real.

“But you still sleep around…a lot,” I said weakly.

“I have one-night stands every night, in every city?” he asked, dryly.

I sighed. “I don’t know. Something like that, I guess.”

“I’m not going to deny that I do like to party and drink, or that I have been with other girls, or have done some wild stuff, but it’s nothing like what people think. I think you realize that by now.”

Did I?

When I didn’t immediately agree, Jake leaned back from me for a moment and pursed his lips. “My father has seventeen kids. Well, offspring, I should say. He has no right to call us that.”

Stunned, I shook my head at his random change in topic. “Okay…but what does that have to do with you sleeping around? And I thought you said you only have the one sister.”

He nodded. “I do. From the one mother. He has seventeen kids with five different women.”

I swallowed, eyes widening. “You’re serious.” I suddenly felt a little lightheaded. I didn’t want to believe him.

“Hey Charlie.” Jake waved over the bartender. “We have a disbeliever. How many kids does my asshole father have?”

Charlie, who was cleaning a glass, retorted, “Seventeen. And probably counting.”

I took another swig of my beer, finishing it, and signaled for Charlie to bring another. I was in shock. “Wow…” I trailed off.

“He was never in the picture. Didn’t even know Eva and I existed.”

“Then how did you even find that out?”

“First thing I did when I got my first real paycheck was to find him. I regretted it as soon as I’d done it. I always held him as a sort of ideal in my mind, a tough guy who probably had been dealt a tough hand. Well, he was dealt a tough hand, that much was true. But instead of choosing to take his life by the horns, he just became the king of whambamthankyoumam.” He paused, exhaling slowly, watching my face. “I don’t want to be like that. It sucked not having a dad or a mom growing up. I would never have a kid and then just…leave him, or her, behind.”

I shook my head, gripping the fresh beer that Charlie had just poured me. “Jesus Almighty.”

“So my point is that I don’t go for quantity, Andrea. I’d rather go for quality.” He stared at me as he said the words. “Like you. I want you.” Jake paused, letting that sink in before he continued. “But as you also probably figured out, for a guy like me, I tend to attract the wrong type of girls since the good ones know to avoid me,” he said, watching my face intently. “Unless they get stuck with me—shit.”

“Shit?” I repeated.

“Sorry, wasn’t directed at you. I mean, shit, it feels good to get all this off my chest. I haven’t told anyone about that besides Eva.”

“Right. The DEA agent.”

His face held onto a smile. He was probably feeling great about getting that off his chest. I felt honored that he felt close enough to me to tell me something like that. I also appreciated the fact that he didn’t seem put-off or even worried that I had just dropped a pretty big bomb on him moments earlier. He didn’t even seem to care that I was a virgin. His feelings mirrored my own. Most guys, when they found out I hadn’t gone all the way, either treated me like a sort of hospital patient who needed kid gloves, or went the other way and acted like they had scored some kind of manly achievement by being on the road to sleeping with a virgin.

Like Grant.

Jake, however, was neither of those extremes. He was just…Jake.

I leaned in and kissed him, since I had no other words. He kissed me back just as urgently, wrapping his hand around my neck. He was such a hard man, his lips were perhaps the only soft spot on his entire body. When I pulled back, we were both breathing heavily. I let my gaze slowly drift down from his face to his chest and abs, which I could see the outline of through the white T-shirt he was wearing. They finally stopped between his legs. I licked my lips, then brought my eyes back up to Jake.

I was finally learning to enjoy the journey.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, looking right into his eyes. That got his attention real quick. I looked around, seeing that a few others had milled in. I noticed the guy that had come in after me walking out the door, in a hurry.

“Charlie, can we settle up?” Jake nodded at the man.

“Yep. You’re good.”

“Dammit Charlie, none of your shit today. We’re paying customers.”

“Your money? It’s no good here,” Charlie said, in a voice that imitated the throaty Italian accent of the Godfather. “Besides, it’s not you I’ve taken a shine to. It’s the girl.” Charlie gave us a wink.

Jake rolled his eyes, pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, and left it on the bar. “Screw you, old pal,” he said with a smile.

Before Charlie could protest any more, Jake had slipped off the barstool and was leading me out of the bar. He was in such a rush, I barely managed a wave as we left.

As we walked out the door holding hands, my thought was, this is so darn easy. I liked him, he liked me, and we would go back to his place and finally do what we’d both been wanting to do since we met each other in the locker room, which felt like ages ago now.

I was ready for the wait to be over.