Gunner stands in the pale-yellow light, as the night darkens around us, with the softest of smiles on his handsome face and makes me want . . . so many things, but none of which I can put my finger on.

“Who thinks up this shit?” I laugh.

“Us bartenders at FU-Bar might have had a hand in helping devise this one.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am,” he says with a definitive nod.

“But if it’s bricks and beer—”

“Haha. I see what you did there.” He points his finger at me and grins.

“—why are there so many kids here, since they won’t be chugging beer?”

“Because they are the judges.” He lifts his brows as I startle.

“The judges?” I look around at all the kids standing on the curbs. Some have treats in hand, others clipboards, but all have excited smiles on their faces.

“Yep. After each lightning round, the builders—us—step back from our tables, and they step forward to judge the best structure out of the two at that particular table. Whoever they pick moves on to the next round.”

“And to the next beer?” I tease.

“Exactly.”

“Oh my God.” I stare at the length of the table again. “There must be a million rounds. The people at the end must be—”

“I told you they’re tiny cups of beer.”

“This is insane.” I look around and take it all in. “And so awesome.”

“So you’ll play?” he asks, holding his hand out to me, which I promptly take.

“Was there any doubt?” I ask as he pulls me closer to him.

“Should we make a wager who will get the farthest?”

“That’s probably not a smart thing to say to me,” I warn and push playfully against his chest. “I’m uber competitive and it is our first date, after all. You probably don’t want my ugly to come out.”

“Ugly?” He laughs. “I doubt it, but rest assured, I’m man enough. I can handle a defeat, Chase. I won’t pout or throw a tantrum.”

“All men pout and throw tantrums when they lose.”

“Then maybe you’re hanging around the wrong men.”

Our eyes hold as his smile dares me.

“Fine. Sure. We can make a bet,” I say, “but rest assured I’ll win.”

“Nothing like being sure of yourself.”

“Exactly,” I say as he tugs on my hand to head toward what I now see is a registration booth. “So what are we wagering?”

He stops walking and gives me a shy smile that makes every part of me stop and stand still.

“A second date,” he says, confusing me.

“But . . . that doesn’t make sense. How does that benefit—”

“If you win, I get a second date with you . . . and if I win, you get a second date with me. See? Easy.”

“You’re smooth, Gunner.”

“I know.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gunner