A/N: I know I literally just did one for the neighbor Todd, but here's a short one for everyone's favorite bartender! Enjoy!

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Every Wednesday night, just like clockwork, the double swinging doors would open, and a girl with a (f/c) bandana around her neck would come in, sit at the bar, and order a (f/a/d). And every Wednesday night, she would stutter her way through whatever conversation she started, ending the night with a red, embarrassed face and more than enough money to cover her tab.

Todd didn't really mind her company, as Wednesday was usually a slower day than most. It almost felt like she came in only for him sometimes, but then she would stammer out some excuse and run off, leaving her money on the counter for him.

When she first started coming in to get drinks, he tried to stop her and give her the extra money back, but in her panicked state, she would run off before he could hand it to her. The unspoken was clear: she wanted him to have it. And so he stopped flagging her down, merely taking it with a bit of trepidation.

This Wednesday had come, and as he waited at the bar for her to appear, Sheriff Thompson also made an appearance. Surprising, but not horrible. He didn't mind the man's company, as he was quite the talker when he was drinking.

"What'll it be?" He asked as soon as the man sat down.

"A whiskey," he answered.

Todd poured him the drink and slid it in front of him. As he drank it, Todd casually asked, "So when's (y/n) coming in?"

"I dunno," Thompson shrugged loosely, having downed the whole glass in a few gulps. "Haven't seen her around today. Have you?"

"Not hide nor hair of her," he replied with a slight sigh. "It just doesn't feel right without her in here."

"Why's that? You attracted to her or somethin'?" Thompson joked as the barkeep slid him another glass.

"Maybe a little," Todd admitted, and it made Thompson all but do a spit take on the counter.

He gave the sheriff a nasty look and set to work sopping it up with a towel.

Thompson coughed out an apology, trying to catch his breath. When at last he could speak again, he said, "Well, I know for a fact that she's real sweet on you too."

"Really?" His eyebrows rose to the brim of his hat. "On me?"

"Haven't you noticed every single time she comes in here?" Thompson continued, raising a slender brown eyebrow at him. "I've never seen her act that way with anyone else."

"She's in love... with me?" Todd repeated faintly. "Wow."

"She'll probably be in here soon, and then you can see for yourself," Thompson said, raising a glass to him. "Mark my words."

Right on schedule, the double-doors flew open, and an out-of-breath (y/n) raced up to the bar, clutching a bouquet of flowers in her hands.

"Sorry I'm late, Barkeep," she panted. She thrust the flowers to him, her cheeks burning as red as his clothes. "These are f-- for you."

"They're mighty nice, miss (y/n)," he said with a smile, admiring them. "Should I count this as a confession?"

"M-- maybe," she admitted, smiling shyly up at him. "Would ya mind?"

"Not at all." He chuckled, setting them down underneath the counter so he could lean over.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, and the girl giggled a little at the feel of his beard against her tanned skin.

"If y'all are done bein' lovebirds," Thompson drawled with a smarmy smirk, "How about a round of drinks on me?"

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A/N: Oh, Sheriff.

Please tell me what you thought and feel free to request!