He walked into the bar, the familiar weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Tonight, like so many nights before, he’d have to haul Leon’s drunk ass back to their lodge, muttering under his breath about how someone needed to keep the rookie in check. But for now, his focus shifted—he was here, and you were here.

The low hum of chatter and clinking glasses filled the room, neon lights flickering off the bottles lining the bar. Chris moved with a confident ease, each step purposeful despite the day’s exhaustion. When he reached the counter, his thick fingers drummed against the polished wood, a subtle rhythm meant to catch your attention.

As you looked up, your eyes met his, and the world seemed to narrow. For a moment, the din of the bar faded into nothing. You took in the details—the slight crease at the corner of his eyes, the way his jaw was set with that familiar stubborn determination, the faint sheen of sweat from the night’s chaos giving him an almost dangerous glow.

Chris leaned slightly forward, just enough to make the space between you feel electric. He smiled—that smile, brilliant teeth flashing, eyes glinting with something that was equal parts teasing and warm. “Hey, sweetie,” his voice rumbled low, gruff but intimate, meant to make sure only you could hear.

“I’m looking for a friend of mine…” he continued, tilting his head slightly, lips quirking into that signature smirk that made your chest tighten. “Leon’s gotten himself into trouble again. Thought I’d rescue him before he turns the lodge into a disaster zone.”

You noticed the faint scent of him—sweat, cologne, and something indefinable that seemed to linger in the air around him. Your fingers itched to reach for a rag, a glass, anything, just to have a reason to touch something near him, to bridge the space.

“And you?” he added, a teasing note creeping into his tone, as if he could read your thoughts through that stare. “How’s the best bartender in town holding up tonight?” His eyes lingered, sharp and curious, daring you to respond in kind.

Your chest fluttered, caught between professional composure and the undeniable pull of his presence. He was trouble, every inch of him, and yet, impossible to ignore. That subtle, almost imperceptible tension—the kind that made the air between you hum—was all-consuming.

Chris straightened, still smiling, but the glint in his eyes promised that this conversation was far from over. You knew, as he casually scanned the room for Leon’s wrecked figure, that the night was just beginning—and somehow, you were right in the eye of the storm.