Page 1 of Brick Wall

Annie

“ N obody puts baby in a corner.”

“Excuse me?” I swivel halfway around in my barstool to see a short, skinny guy in his forties with slicked-back hair staring at me.

“I said nobody puts baby in a corner…because you’re in a corner.”

“Got it.”

“You know, like the movie. Chicks love that movie. Although not as many girls get the reference now, but I knew you would,” he says with a wink that I think I’m supposed to find charming.

“Because I’m old?” I can’t help but question.

“Exactly. Well, not old, but you’re not one of those young, annoying girls.”

“Um…thank you?” I say with so much confusion. I’m still in my twenties, thank you very much. I’m twenty-nine for a few more months, but it still counts .

How did I land myself in such a confusing, awkward conversation? I’m wearing an oversized gray hoodie and black leggings at the bar—nothing that says, “Hit on me, please.”

I’m also sitting on the last stool at the end of the dark bar, and yes, I am tucked in a corner. It’s my signature spot in my favorite Irish pub, O’Donnelly’s. I love sitting at the end of the bar, with the left-side end of the wall to keep me company. One less person to socialize with.

Tonight, however, there’s a different kind of wall to my right side—a giant wall of man. The enormous guy is leaning slightly forward and has his body angled the opposite direction from me so I can only see his side profile and backside, which is fine with me.

I kind of thought I’d be invisible in this spot, but I guess I was wrong. I came for people-watching tonight, not people-talking.

The man with the smarmy smile in front of me did not get the memo, however.

“I’m Joe. I’m a mechanic, and I’m really good with my hands.”

“Um, hi.” I’m already thinking about how to get out of this conversation. I’m a terrible person, I know.

Oh crap, Joe is still talking about pistons and drive shafts. I think. I’m unsure if this is flirting or shop talk. “So, tell me about you.”

“Oh, um, well…” I don’t really want to, but dammit, I’m polite. “I’m Alexa, and I’m a virtual assistant.” Well, not that polite.

“Oh yeah, I could use an admin to sort me out.”

Um…

“Oh, well, I work in technology and get a ton of inquiries as it is, sorry. ”

I see the giant wall of man next to me move his shoulders up and down in quick succession, but no sound leaves his lips.

My lack of conversation does not deter Joe, who’s still here, chatting my ear off. I shift slightly in my seat and stretch my arms to get a little more comfortable.

Just when I think this conversation will never end, Joe abruptly asks, “How tall are you?”

“Six f—”

Joe cuts me off. “Oh, well, my mom’s calling me. It was nice chatting with ya.” And just like that, Joe is gone, and my peace and quiet has returned.

Wow, did I just get hit on and then dumped in the span of five minutes?

“That was impressive,” the wall to my right responds.

Crap, did I say my thoughts out loud, or was that scene so publicly embarrassing that this man thought he had to comment?

The wall turns his body slightly to face me, and I automatically emulate his position.

My initial impression of him being a wall is spot-on. This man is the very definition of the word enormous . The first thing I notice is his gorgeous broad shoulders that take up a lot of space. His dark gray henley hugs his massive body, sticking in delicious spots.

I slowly lift my eyes to his face and notice Mr. Brick Wall has a shit-eating grin on his face and amusement is dancing behind his mesmerizing hazel eyes. A full beard covers most of his face, which matches his tousled blond hair that is slightly hidden behind a baseball cap.

Dang, this man is stunning. He’s making my thoughts scatter and my heart beat faster with a single facial expression .

Get it together, girl.

I take a deep breath and try to channel my inner fierceness.

“Impressive that I got hit on or that I made someone run away to their mama?” I swing my right leg over my left to get more comfortable.

He doesn’t answer, instead sliding his bowl of popcorn to me in a silent offering. Smart man.

The bar has a free self-serve popcorn machine that you can help yourself to at any time. It’s one of my favorite things about this place besides the people-watching and the usually quiet corner at the end of the bar. No matter how busy this place gets, though, the popcorn gods keep up.

I gladly help myself to more, stuffing my face with the extra buttery goodness. I momentarily forget everything and concentrate on the warm, toasty kernels hitting my taste buds.

“I’m Alex.” Mr. Brick Wall interrupts my thoughts, and I look down at his hand in greeting.

“ Alexa .” I shake his hand with a smirk that indicates I’m full of shit. “So Alex, what do you do? Are you a mechanic, too?”

“Nah, school teacher.” I must show the skepticism on my face because he quickly adds, “I teach phys ed.”

“Interesting.” I tap one finger to my chin like I’m an evil villain. “I’m a virtual assistant.”

He laughs and says, “When do you think that man will figure out he met an actual robot tonight?”

“Excuse you. I’m a real girl. The question is when will he figure out I’m not Alexa, Virtual Assistant Extraordinaire? The answer is clearly never.”

“I don’t know. You don’t think Joe will ask Alexa to turn on the lights, and then the light bulb in his brain will finally turn on?”

“I think you’re giving Joe too much credit. I can’t picture him as one of those high-tech guys, but I guess we’ll never know.”

“We’ll never know,” he says with a laugh.

He’s quiet for a second, hesitating on whether to say more, but then he adds, “My grandpa was one of those ‘the government is listening’ guys in the seventies, and now he can’t go a single day without asking Alexa what the weather is.

I swear that guy has more technology than me. ” He chuckles into his pint glass.

“Yeah,” I say with a small smile because I feel like I should respond to his cute story, but have little to add.

“Come here often?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Smooth.” A laugh bubbles out of me.

“Well, the line I was going to use was already taken.” A sly smirk covers his handsome face.

My body automatically leans forward closer to him, and I catch his intoxicating scent of cedar, citrus, beer, and a hint of popcorn. I can’t help but to lean even closer to him.

“Big fan of Dirty Dancing , huh?”

“Nah, but I’ve got two sisters, so I’ve seen it a few times.”

“I bet,” I say with a knowing smile. “I’ve got three brothers, so between us, our movie repertoire is probably impressive.”

“Probably. So, you have three brothers, huh? Any sisters?”

“Nope, I’m the baby. My parents stopped when they got greatness.”

He smiles at that, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Are your brothers protective?” he asks as he takes a sip of his pint.

“The worst. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was eighteen because they were such cockblockers.” I choke out a laugh at my sordid tale. “I moved out of state for college, and then one of my stupid brothers followed me.”

“What are your brothers up to now?”

“Worried?” I ask as I lift my brow.

“Just wondering if I need to be looking over my shoulder,” he says while looking over his shoulder at the crowded bar.

This affords me a good look at his jawline, and wow. His jaw is…not something I usually notice, but dang, it’s strong and sharp, and is highlighted by his gorgeous blond beard.

I wave a hand in front of me. “Nah, you’re good. The most annoying one lives out of state. Plus, they are grown men now, and they’ve relaxed a bit.”

“Just a bit?”

“Just a bit,” I confirm.

After a few minutes of silence, I answer his question from earlier. “I actually do come here often. Well, not that often, but it is my favorite bar in the city,” I say while shoving more popcorn in my mouth like the lady I am. “You?”

“Never been. I don’t make it out too often. But tonight, I’m a wingman.”

I look around and see no one in the immediate vicinity who looks like a possible friend. “Well, it looks like you are doing an excellent job.”

“Oh, I am,” he says with a small smile.

“Impressive.” I lower my voice and whisper conspiratorially, “I’m spying.”

He gives me a slight lift of his right brow. Dammit, why is that so sexy?

“My friend has a date with a guy she met on an app that I’ve never heard of, so I want to make sure she doesn’t get murdered or anything,” I say more casually than I feel.

My beautiful best friend and roommate, Goldie, is very sweet and lovely, but she can also be a bit na?ve.

I mean, she signed up for a new dating app she found through a social media ad and matched with someone quickly. Two days later, I’m at the bar spying to make sure she’s not murdered, kidnapped, or catfished.

I look over my shoulder to two tables behind me and see Goldie laughing into her wine glass.

I was leaning toward catfished before this bar encounter, but now I don’t know.

She immediately matched with a guy named Ellis, whose picture looked exactly like Bryce Ellis, a kicker for the Boston Revolutionaries. It’s not difficult to steal a picture of anyone online these days, but it’s extra easy if they are already in the spotlight.

What are the odds that Goldie’s first dating app experience is with a professional football player? The only people I’ve met on there constantly ask for nudes or have creepy pickup lines with weird innuendos.

I’ve never had a positive experience with apps. Maybe I am bitter. Who knows? I’ve never had a great date through the app, and I can’t see how this could be different for her.

I may be bitter about apps, but I’d like to think I’m not sour about love in general.

I’d like to think if I randomly met a person at a bar or through friends or whatever, I’d keep my heart open.

I’m not actively searching for love, but I’m not actively dismissing it either. I’m somewhere in the middle, I hope.