The afternoon heat had slowed things down at the bar, and I was absentmindedly wiping down the counter when someone stepped up. I looked up—and nearly froze.

Jensen Ackles.

Even at 47, he was effortlessly good-looking, all tanned skin and sharp green eyes, with that familiar smirk. Dressed in a polo and golf shorts, he leaned on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?”

I quickly grabbed a cold beer, twisting off the cap and sliding it to him. “Haven’t seen you around before,” he said after taking a sip.

“I’m home for the summer. My dad owns the place.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Ah, the boss’s kid. Guess I should be extra nice to you.”

I smirked. “Depends on how good of a tipper you are.”

He chuckled, setting a twenty on the bar. “Keep the change.”

I eyed the bill, then him. “Trying to stay on my dad’s good side?”

“Something like that.” He started to walk off but turned back, meeting my gaze. “See you around?”

I smiled. “Yeah. See you around.”

As I watched him go, I had a feeling this summer just got a lot more interesting.