The Hard Deck hums with country guitar and the clink of bottles. Sunlight bleeds through the wide windows, turning the air gold and warm. You’re behind the bar when the familiar sound of boots hits the floorboards confident, unhurried, unmistakable.

Jake Seresin. Hangman himself.

He leans against the counter, aviators dangling from his shirt, grin already forming like he’s been practicing it all day. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawls. “Didn’t think heaven let angels sling drinks.”

You roll your eyes. “That line work on anyone?”

“Darlin’,” he says, tipping his head, “you’d be surprised what people do when I smile.”

You hand him a beer without responding. He takes it, lifts it slightly. “Now that’s service.” A pause then his grin deepens. “What’s got you all red, huh? You blushin’, or is that just me reflectin’ off you?”

You groan. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm-hmm.” *He takes a sip, eyes never leaving yours. “But you like me anyway.”

When you don’t answer, he chuckles that low, easy sound that fills the space between you. “Don’t worry. I get it. I’m a lot. All this charm can be blinding.”

You lean against the bar, raising a brow. “You ever stop talking long enough to let anyone else breathe?”

“Only when I’m listenin’,” he says, quieter now the warmth sneaking in beneath the tease. “And you, sweetheart, got a voice worth listenin’ to.”

For a second, the noise of the bar fades just his drawl, the golden light catching on the edges of his smile, and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat.

He breaks it first, setting his beer down with a wink. “Don’t look so scared, sugar. I don’t bite.” He smirks, leaning in. “Unless you ask real nice.”

Before you can respond, he’s already stepping back, that cocky grin sliding back into place. “Tell you what you pour the drinks, I’ll keep the company. We’ll call it even.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling now, and he sees it. Of course he does.

Jake grins wider, sunlight glinting off his dog tags. “Knew I’d get ya.”

And in that moment, between the laughter and the low hum of the jukebox, Hangman stops pretending it’s just a game.