I ignore the dig, because trying to explain the difference to a flannel-wearing hipster is pointless. He’s clearly the opposite of my target market. “What’s happening back there?” I motion to the plywood room behind him. “Is that even legal?”

“It’s called an axe-throwing enclosure, and yeah, it’s legal.” He pulls a piece of paper out of his back pocket and shakes it out so it unfolds, then holds it up in front of my face. When I try to grab it from him he snatches it away. “No touching, looking only.”

I pin him with an unimpressed glare, uncertain as to whether that’s what makes his cheek tic, and raise my hands in mock surrender. “I wouldn’t want to soil your precious paper with my frosting fingers.”

He lowers the paper so I can see that it’s a permit for an axe-throwing enclosure. “See, Alice, totally legal.”

I glare at him. “It’s Blaire, and you need to move this enclosure thing because all that banging around is making my glassware fall off the shelves.”

Axe man’s eyebrows pop. “Uh yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

I flail a hand toward the mess of plywood. “One of my brand new unicorn martini glasses broke because of you, and they’re expensive.”

“Unicorn what?”

“Martini glasses. It’s a martini glass with a unicorn face on it, and a horn. They’re adorable and they weren’t cheap and all your banging caused one to fall off the shelf and break.” I hold out the box so he can see the damage he’s responsible for.

He peeks inside, but makes no move to take the box. “Can’t you just move your glasses?” His completely unaffected, blasé attitude is driving me crazy.

I set the box on the bar rather aggressively, making the glass inside tinkle. “I’ll have to move an entire shelf. Maybe more than one.” I continue to flail my arms all over the place. I’m sure I resemble an octopus on some kind of hallucinogenic stimulant. All the caffeine I’ve consumed today was obviously a terrible idea because it’s making me edgy and discomposed.

“Okay.” He hooks his thumb in his pocket, obviously not understanding the difficulty this axe-throwing room of his is going to be for me and my business. He’s completely self-centered as well as condescending. I hate him already. Forever. Like a kindergartner.

“It’s not okay at all. Moving a shelf will offset the entire layout of the wall. You can’t just take a shelf down without there being any design consequences,” I tell him. “It disturbs the continuity and interrupts the flow. The whole vibe will be thrown off!”

And now he’s looking at me like I’m crazy. “Well, I’m sorry that taking a shelf down is going to mess with the cupcake vibe, or whatever, Blaire, but unless you’d like to foot the bill to uninstall and reinstall all of this.” He thumbs over his shoulder. “I’m thinking moving a shelf is probably your best bet if you don’t want any more shattered unicorn dreams.”

I huff my irritation, because although he has a point, the only person inconvenienced is me. And all this noise is going to make concentrating impossible today. I avoid responding, because I don’t want to give in and agree with him. “How long is this going to go on for?”

“We can stop arguing about you moving a shelf anytime you want.”

I’ve already filed this guy under Jerks I Want to Junk Punch. I hope someone puts Veet in his shampoo and all that luxurious, thick hair falls out. The thought of that alone makes me feel better. “I mean the noise, smartass.”

The corners of his mouth turn up slowly until he’s full on smiling. Dammit. Of course he has great teeth and a beautiful smile to go with his stupidly handsome face. All he probably has to do is flash that smile and people move shelves for him without a second thought. They probably move entire walls. And drop their damn panties, too.

He lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug. “I guess it depends on how long you want to stand here, bickering with me. I could do this all day, but that means I’m not working, and if I’m not working the enclosure isn’t getting built. So it’s entirely up to you how long it takes.” His smile widens, likely at my appalled expression. “I’d offer to set you up with a pair of safety boots so you can keep having a go at me, but I’m not all that interested in putting a saw or a nail gun in your hands. I have a feeling it might be me you’d try to nail to the wall.”

I flash him a less than friendly smile. “I meant how long do you expect these renovations to take?” I don’t want them to interfere with my grand opening next week.

“Dunno. I’d say at least a couple of weeks, but it all depends on how often you decide to come over and give me shit.”

“So now you’re the one being inconvenienced, is that it?”

All he does is stand there with his arms crossed, wearing a telling smirk.

“Well thanks so much for making more work for me. It’s not like I don’t have enough to do right now. And I sincerely hope you’re insulating that wall because I sure don’t want an axe coming through it like some kind of B-rated horror movie!”

I spin on my heel and try to yank the door open with a dramatic flair, but of course the stupid wind-suction means I have to use both hands, which completely ruins the impact.

Once the suction seal is broken, the door flies open and I stumble back, almost landing on the filthy floor. I don’t look back as I regain my composure, straighten my spine and exit his crappy pub.

“It was really nice to meet you, Blaire,” he calls out after me, voice dripping sarcasm. “I’m Ronan Knight, by the way, thanks for asking, and for being so understanding about the renos!”

Well, now the name of the bar makes sense. Of course he has a super hipster, but also highly masculine name that’s just as sexy as he is. Jerk.

He rattles the box with the broken glass. “Hey! You forgot your unicorn dreams!”

I consider flipping him the bird, but that would mean stooping to his level and I’m unwilling to play his game. “Kiss my cupcake!” I shout over my shoulder, wishing my wit had kicked in earlier. I stalk angrily down the sidewalk and nearly lose my footing for what seems like the hundredth time this morning when I step in something slippery. I glance down and gag, then tip my chin up to the sky. “Seriously?”