Sloane was happy for that fact as the man with the nametag Dixon took her order. It was a joy that continued as she played a puzzle game on her phone and drank her first drink. She was still riding that happy high when she finished that drink and asked for another. Rosé might have done her wrong, but Cassidy’s Place had always been good at making a you’ll-feel-good-but-not-get-a-hangover mixed drink. Unless you had one too many. Which she wasn’t planning on, considering that the last time she’d gotten drunk, she’d managed to release every secret she had to the internet.

Minus one.

This time, Dixon was slower to make her drink. He was distracted by his phone before being distracted by a new wave of patrons who came in. She was curious for the briefest of moments by a slightly panicked look that crossed the man’s face, but then she locked that shit down quick.

Everyone else’s business? None of hers.

But then the door that was between the bar and the kitchen opened, and a man appeared out of it. There was a nametag on his button-up that read Brady and, unlike his fellow bartender, Sloane was faster to recognize him.

“Oh shit.”

She dropped her chin so quickly that it hurt her neck. She wasn’t about to look up to see if they’d heard her. Nope. She was going to stare at the bar top like a totally normal human and then try to melt off the barstool and escape.

Great. Solid plan. Ten out of ten.

Sloane mentally kicked herself. There she was, trying to avoid three people, when she should have added Bartender Brady Knox to the top of the list. Because she’d forgotten one massively terrifying detail, thanks to way more than one of Cassidy’s mixed drinks.

There was one person who knew who she’d been absolutely over-the-moon in love with…and he was a fucking bartender.

She’d come right back into his bar like the genius she was.

Sloane lifted her head slowly and peeked through a gap in her fingers. Maybe he didn’t remember her. Maybe he didn’t remember her confession to him the year before. Surely at the only bar in town, he dealt with so many people that he’d just tuned her out. Not really heard what she confessed, just nodded and said things like “uh-huh” and “yeah, sure” so he’d get a nice tip.

It had been a year ago. Right around Christmas. Surely there was much more exciting gossip than her getting a little too drunk and a little too into her feelings. She’d also lamented about Janet Kepler running off with one of the waiters from the catering company she did the occasional odd job for, so maybe he’d really taken a liking to that information instead?

Neither bartender looked at all interested in her now.