She was always in motion. It was hypnotic, watching the swing of her hair, those heavy ropes of curls that hung down her back in a riot of brown and blonde and gold. She was quick, efficient, and a damn poem for the eyes. She laughed boldly, smiled widely. And nothing ever threw her. Not a spilled pitcher of margaritas down her tank, not a customer arguing over the charge for bacon. And certainly not a persistent flight instructor.

McKinley was always under control. Her favorite color was deep purple. She loved sweet potato fries and fish tacos, and had a degree in hospitality management from Virginia Tech. She was divorced and didn’t date customers. He’d made a game of slow nights at the bar, asking her questions, conversations in between filling drink orders. And little by little, piece by piece, they’d gotten to know each other.

Talia elbowed him in the ribs. “Stop staring. You’ll scare her off and I won’t get a refill.”

“I’m not staring,” he lied. They’d always shared long looks across the bar. But tonight there was something more in those lovely brown eyes of hers.

“You haven’t blinked in four minutes.”

His dad always loved to tell the story of the first time he met Colton’s mother. In the produce section over a selection of overripe avocados. He took one look at her, in her pretty pearl-buttoned cardigan and ponytail and knew she was the future Mrs. Hayes. He asked her out on the spot and ten months later they were married.

Colton hadn’t thought of marriage the first time he’d seen McKinley in her red Sunset Point tank top and frayed cutoffs. But the longer his exposure to her, the more fascinated he was. He felt like a high school freshman again when eighth grader Becca Slater walked by with her sexy little overbite and long, black hair.

She swung by, empties in her hand. Colton purposely chose to sit near the glass washer so he was guaranteed face time.

“What’s the question tonight?” McKinley asked him as she dumped the glasses onto the rotating tray.

Colton showed up every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday night armed with a question designed to pry McKinley open. They sparred, verbally, over the course of the night and when Colton left, it was always with a little more knowledge about the woman who fascinated him.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked, twisting his pint glass in a slow circle on its coaster.

“Mmm,” she said, eyebrows lifting in appreciation. She spun off to mix a half-dozen specialty drinks. It was how their conversations flowed on Saturdays. In fits and spurts between beers.

“Hey, sweetheart!” A barrel-chested man with a sunburnt nose and sunglasses worn backwards on his head whistled for McKinley’s attention. Colton noticed the stiffening of her shoulders and wondered if the guy realized her smile was just a few degrees above frost.

“Me and my new friends here are ready for another round,” he said, throwing his thick arms around two bikini clad women who had come in together. The women looked decidedly uncomfortable.

Warning bells triggered in the back of Colton’s head.

McKinley approached the threesome. “You all want some food?” she asked, slapping a food menu down in front of the man.

He shoved the menu back at her. “What we want is tequila. Doubles,” he cackled.

Talia laid a hand on Colton’s arm. “She’s got it.”

Colton slowly loosened his death grip on his fork. But he kept his attention on the drama playing out across the bar.

“You ladies know this gentleman?” McKinley asked, leaning her elbows on the bar friendly as can be.

They shook their heads.

“I’m Barry. We’re old friends,” the man insisted, slurring a bit and listing to one side. “This is my friend Buffy and my other friend Muffy.” He laughed at his own humor, a loud guffaw that drew eyes from all around the bar.

“Here’s the thing, sir. I think these ladies were having a very nice evening without you and I’m going to ask you very nicely to back off,” McKinley said. The women looked relieved, but the man went red in the face.

“Do your fucking job and pour us some tequila,” Barry said, leaning into McKinley’s space.

Colton pushed his stool back and stood.

“I think you’ve had enough, sir,” McKinley said, unruffled. “And I think these ladies would appreciate it if you headed back to your hotel and slept this off.”

Barry reached across the bar and grabbed her by the arm. “Tequila, twat.” The crowd went silent.

Colton was around the bar with Milt, Sonny, and Chelsea hot on his heels.

“You’re gonna want to move that hand, Barry,” McKinley said, staring down at the ham fist closed around her elbow. “And you’re going to want to leave, now.” Cool as a cucumber in a glass of spa water.

He sneered at her and Colton cleared his throat. “There a problem here?” he asked, keeping his voice mild.

“Yeah, this bitch won’t pour the tequila.”

At this point, there was no reason to do things quietly. Colton grabbed the man by the collar of his sweaty Hawaiian shirt. “Let’s go visit the parking lot,” he said, squeezing the guy’s arm until he broke his hold on McKinley.

The crowd cheered as Colton and Sonny shoved Barry toward the back entrance. He put up an alcohol-fueled fight on the way out, but Colton didn’t mind the chance to throw a few elbows. And when Barry tripped over his own damn sandals and landed face down in the gutter, Colton took pleasure in watching him flail on the ground like a beached whale.

“Problem?” A police cruiser rolled up, windows down, on its usual bar patrol.

“They assaulted me!” Barry howled.

“Hey, Lance,” Colton greeted the beat cop.

“How’s it going, Colt?”

“We escorted this lovely human being from the bar where he verbally assaulted several female customers and staff, sir,” Sonny reported, showing his military roots.

Lance got out of the car on a long sigh. “Anyone inside interested in pressing charges?”

“Not likely,” Colton put in.

“All right. I’ll take care of him.”

“Thanks, man.” Colton shook Lance’s hand and left the braying Barry to his fate.

He and Sonny returned, the victorious happy hour heroes. McKinley didn’t make a fuss, merely set a fresh pitcher of beer in front of them with a quiet “on the house”.

McKinley’s right-hand server and friend, Leeta, was more effusive. She leaned over the bar and gave them all smacking kisses right on the mouth… including Talia and Chelsea, much to the delight of the crowd.

---

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One of the best things about living in a vacation destination was Colton never knew what was going to happen from one night to the next. Not an hour after Barry was hauled off in the back of Lance’s cruiser, another fuss stirred up on Sunset Point’s deck.

A chorus of “oohs and awhs” rippled through the crowd. Even the band cut off mid-song. Colton craned his neck to see what the fuss was about and spotted a skinny brown dog limping its way across the deck. The dog made a beeline behind the bar and plopped his ass down in front of McKinley, tail thumping gently on the wood floor.

“What in the—awh!” Leeta the deck server crooned at the dog.

“Where’d you come from buddy?” McKinley asked, crouching down. The dog scooted closer and lifted his front paw. And Colton saw something he’d never seen in McKinley’s pretty brown eyes before. A softness.

Hesitantly, she accepted the offered paw. McKinley didn’t have dogs. She’d grown up in a petless family, Colton knew from their ongoing getting-to-know-you conversation.

“You’re a little banged up, aren’t you bud?” She looked up at the audience leaning over the bar. “Anyone know any doggy first aid?”

Colton raised his hand.

McKinley nodded at him. “Come on back, Colt.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d let him behind the bar. At six-foot-three, he was useful for reaching the top shelf.

He liked being invited into her space.

He crouched down next to her and held his hand out for the dog to sniff.

“Order up!” someone called from the other side of the center bar.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, touching his arm as she rose.

Colton examined the dog between pets and scratches. “Who’s a nice boy?” he asked, ruffling the dog’s ears. He was skinny and his paws had a few burrs in them, but besides a raw patch on his neck he seemed like he was in good shape. His smell was another story. The dog smelled like he’d gone for a swim through fish guts.

Colton helped himself to an empty salad bowl out of the dish bin and the bar faucet. “How about some water, buddy?”

The dog gratefully lapped up the water when Colton set the bowl in front of him, his front paw resting on Colton’s knee as if to keep him in place.

“Not too much,” Colton cautioned with a laugh.

“How’s he doing?” McKinley asked, hustling around the big wooden column in the center of the bar. She dropped down next to Colton on the floor and gently scratched at the dog’s neck. His brown eyes rolled back in his head in puppy ecstasy.

“He’s all right. Hungry and skinny and sore,” Colton told her. “But seems okay otherwise.”

“Leeta?” McKinley called.

“Yeah, boss?”

“Can you order our little friend here some plain chicken and rice from the kitchen?”

“You got it,” Leeta said, fingers flying across the register screen. “Sunset’s happening. Want me to ring the bell?”

McKinley skimmed a hand over the dog’s head. “Yeah, go ahead.”

In Colton’s humble opinion, the best part about Sunset Point—besides its beautiful as hell bartender—was the sunset ritual.

Leeta reached overhead and grasped the knotted rope that hung from the bell mounted to one of the wood columns. She rang it three times and a hush fell over the crowd. Every night, the patrons of Sunset Point gathered at the railing and watched in silence as the sun dipped below the horizon.

For someone who was as enamored with the skies as Colton was, paying homage to the sunset was poetic. For a minute, silence fell over the bar. The band cut mid-song. The drunken giggles slowly quieted and everyone just watched as the sun slipped beneath the water, leaving a blaze of pinks and oranges and reds in its wake.

McKinley was close enough that her shoulder rubbed his upper arm. The dog seemed to understand the significance of the moment and scooted between them, leaning against her bare leg. And for a few seconds, Colton’s life was perfect.

His thoughts were full of sunsets and avocados.