Indy walked into End Zone for her third shift that week. The bartender, Jane, greeted her and said, “There’s a suit here looking for you. Must be nice to be so popular. He looks like money.”
Indy smiled. “That’s me—Miss Congeniality.” She tied her apron on and turned to seek out the only suit who’d look for her: Griffin. She searched the crowd but couldn’t find him. Her blood warmed at the prospect of seeing him tonight, but she didn’t know how she’d make it all the way to closing.
She stopped at her first table and took the drink order, still scanning the area for Griffin. Customers crowded the room for some game on TV, and bodies blocked the view of all her tables. Squeezing between the sports fans, she moved to her next table to take the order. Everyone else looked settled, so she tur
