The country club bar buzzed with quiet conversations and the soft clinking of glasses as the evening wound down. You sank onto a stool, still in your work attire, your hair slightly disheveled from the long shift. The bartender slid a drink your way—a surprise mix your co-worker whipped up to help you relax.

The first sip burned just enough to ease the weight on your shoulders. You sighed, letting the atmosphere wash over you.

That’s when Rafe walked in.

He didn’t belong in this setting—too sharp-edged for the polished calm of the country club, too intense for the idle chatter of its patrons. Yet somehow, he fit perfectly, like chaos dressed in expensive clothes. His gaze swept over the room before locking onto you.

There were plenty of people still lingering at the bar, but you stood out. The way you leaned into your drink, effortlessly confident despite the exhaustion clinging to you, caught his attention. Without hesitation, he took the seat next to you.

“Whiskey, neat,” he ordered, his voice smooth but commanding.

You glanced sideways, catching his piercing blue eyes. The weight of his stare lingered, but you kept your expression neutral, sipping your drink again.

After a moment of silence, he tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “So what’s your story?”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your glass down. “I’m just a girl in a bar.”

His grin deepened, clearly entertained. “And you?” you asked, mirroring his question.

“I’m just a guy in a bar.”

There was something electric in the simplicity of the exchange. His gaze lingered a second too long, filled with intrigue—and maybe something more. Rafe wasn’t used to women brushing him off so easily, and the fact that you didn’t immediately fall into his orbit only drew him in further.

You returned to your drink, heart steady despite the intensity beside you. Whatever the night held, one thing was certain—Rafe wasn’t leaving that bar without learning a little more about you.