GARRETT DROPPED DEVON at Jenn’s Restaurant to wait for Hadley to get off work.  He was working the night shift and needed to get ready, but he felt bad about leaving Devon alone in the apartment on such a nice day.  He had given her his spare key in case she decided to go to the apartment.  She didn’t intend to though.  Devon figured she would wait until Hadley got off work, and then they could head back together.  She didn’t feel comfortable being at their apartment all by herself.  She was just a guest.

Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had only eaten a piece of toast and a Popsicle all day.  She and Garrett had walked for hours.  He was a great tour guide, giving her more information about buildings and events than she likely ever needed to know.  Garrett had lived in Chicago nearly his whole life, and he had only left for the four years of college.  Devon hadn’t been surprised to find out he had gone to George Washington in D.C.  Although he had money written all over him, surprisingly, he seemed down-to-earth.  She wished that combination happened more often.

Jenn’s wasn’t as busy as it had been the last time Devon had walked inside.  Everyone must have still been working at this early hour.  She suspected it would start to get crowded closer to five o’clock.

Hadley had a pretty sweet set-up at her job.  She always got off work early on Fridays.  Plus, she didn’t have to go in at all on the weekends.  Hadley had said she would be happy to show Devon around the parts of the city that Garrett had missed during the morning shift.  Devon hadn’t decided what she wanted to do, but she knew she would think of something in the meantime.

Sitting down in the same stool as she had the day before, Devon leaned her elbows heavily on the countertop and waited for someone to materialize.  She noticed a waitress helping a customer in a booth against the wall.  The woman looked like she had been working there since the place had opened forty years earlier.  Yet, she still wore the same uniform as the younger waitresses—a short black skirt, a white top unbuttoned to reveal cleavage, white tube socks, and tennis shoes.  She couldn’t be the only one working, right?

The woman scooped up the menus from the other customers and then walked toward the back door.  Looking over at Devon, she smiled with a sincerity she likely didn’t feel.  “Someone will be right with you, hon.”

She walked through the swinging door into the kitchen.  Devon wondered if she was now yelling at someone to do his job.  It was what she probably would have done when she had worked at a restaurant.  At least, she would have grumbled to herself about how she was the only one working.

During the previous summers, Devon had worked part-time as a waitress to earn a little extra cash.  She always had something she wanted to spend her money on, and she felt bad asking her parents for anything more than they had given her.  They were already paying for her education and room and board, so she didn’t feel like she could ask for more.

A minute later, a disgruntled man walked out of the back room, yelling something at the waitress behind him.  Devon had been right.  When he turned around, Devon smiled, realizing it was Brennan.  She was happy to see a familiar face in a sea of the unfamiliar.  Chicago was a huge step for her, and she had a lot of adjusting to do.

“You been helped?” Brennan moved bottles around, barely glancing up at her.

“No, I haven’t,” Devon told him, waiting for him to recognize her.

“What’ll you have?”  He ran a towel under the faucet and then mopped under the drip mat.

“I don’t know.  I haven’t seen a menu.”  She pulled out her pen from her back pocket and absentmindedly flipped it between her fingers.

He grabbed a menu for her and slapped it down on the counter.   He walked away without even asking her for her drink order.  Hadley had been right; getting Brennan’s attention was hard even when the restaurant was empty.

She watched him for a second, knowing that he wasn’t paying any attention to her.  He was bobbing his head, his dark hair moving effortlessly.  It wasn’t styled like it had been yesterday.  Today, it looked more like he had just rolled out of bed, but in a good way.  He was humming something to his own tune, but Devon couldn’t make out the song.

She knew that she shouldn’t be watching him like this.  It was rude, and surely he would notice, which would be truly embarrassing.  She was just having a hard time pulling her eyes away.

It was strange to say the least.  He was the kind of guy her sister, Dani, would fall all over herself for.  She would flaunt herself in front of him until he noticed her, and in Dani’s case, it didn’t take very much time for guys to notice her.  Her mother had joked about Devon being the difficult one, but that was only because she had boycotted cowboy boots and her Dixie nickname, but Dani was the one her mother needed to worry about.  Dani still traipsed about in too short sundresses, and she had earned the name Pearl from half the guys in school for good reason.  It was slightly disturbing since she was only seventeen and a senior in high school.  Devon was terrified of her going off to college, especially since she had chosen a big state school.

Devon wasn’t the one to get caught up in a guy’s appearance, especially with Reid back in St. Louis.  No, she didn’t even want to think about St. Louis right now.  Brennan was nice to look at, that was all.

Brennan turned around then and looked right at her.  Her cheeks instantly colored when he caught her staring.  He didn’t do anything more than smirk before she buried herself in the menu she hadn’t yet touched.

Devon felt his eyes linger on her, and the feeling wouldn’t leave.  She wasn’t used to being under scrutiny.  She pondered whether he had felt her eyes staring so heavily, if it had been that obvious.  She glanced back up when her cheeks weren’t flaming hot.

Brennan smiled at her, walked back over, and leaned both of his elbows on the bar like he had done yesterday.  “You want something to drink?”

“Just water, please,” Devon said, averting her eyes.

Brennan poured her drink and handed it over.  “Were you here yesterday?” he asked, returning to his position.

“Yeah.”  Devon nodded.  She folded her menu, removing her diversion.  “I was here with Hadley.”

“I knew you looked familiar.  You’re the little Southern belle.”

“Devon,” she corrected.

“Right.  How’d you end up with a friend like Hadley?” he asked.

“What does that mean?”  Was he insulting her roommate of two-and-a-half years?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re a square, and she colors outside of the lines.”

Incredulously, Devon looked up at him.  “How could I not take that the wrong way?”

“Because I told you in advance not to,” Brennan said, shrugging.

“Telling me in advance implies that I’m going to take it the wrong way.  It totally negates everything you say after that,” she told him, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s too early to be negating this and implying that.  I’m a bartender.  Order a shot,” Brennan said.

He didn’t back away as she glared at him.

“I think you can imply and negate with the rest of us.”  Devon flipped her pen between her fingers faster.

“Can and will are different things,” he said, stepping back.  He walked over to the bar, pulled out two shot glasses, and filled them with tequila.  After he passed one over to her, he set a napkin on the countertop and placed two limes on it.  “You keep flipping your pen like that, you’re going to cause a nervous breakdown.  Now, drink up.”