Page 6 of One Night in Glasgow
"Excuse me," I started, hoping my voice sounded smoother than I felt.
She paused, turning to me with an unreadable expression.
“Pardon me if I’m being too forward," I said, giving her my most charming smile. "But I'm the president of a support group for people who've been recently stood up by absolute fools. It looks like you might be our newest member, and I feel it's my duty to buy you a welcome drink."
She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she downed the rest of her drink, her bright blue eyes appraising me over the rim of her glass. The skeptical smirk was still there, but now it was joined by a flicker of genuine surprise.
"Are you a mind reader, or just dangerously observant?" she asked, her Scottish accent captivating. Her voice was laced with a cool amusement that did things to my insides.
I chuckled. "I'm a student of human nature."
“Is that what you call it?” she said, a playful glint in her eyes. “And you’re the president of this club for the recently wronged? What are your qualifications, exactly? Are you a fool, or a person with excellent taste?”
I leaned against the bar, my grin widening. “Let's just say my primary qualification is a very good eye for spotting people who are about to make my night alot more interesting.” Now, about that welcome drink? It’s a mandatory part of the intake process.”
“Is it now?” she replied, her smile turning mischievous. “Alright, Mr. President. But I should warn you, I’m not easily impressed.” She extended a hand, her touch surprisingly delicate. “Beth.”
I shook it, the brief contact sending a spark straight up my arm. “Sean.” I already had the bartender’s attention. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” I turned to the bartender. “Whatever the lady with the dangerously high wit is having, and a whisky for me.”
Her laugh was real this time, deep and musical, and it ignited something inside me. “So, Mr. President,” she said, leaning against the bar. “Besides saving damsels from their disappointing evenings, what else brings you to this fine establishment?”
“I’m in town for business, boring as it sounds,” I said, keeping it vague. “But my associate seems to think a thorough survey of Glasgow’s finest pubs was a vital part of our cultural research.” I tilted my head, my gaze taking in her impeccably tailored dress. “What about you? You don’t exactly look like a regular here.”
A wry, almost conspiratorial smile touched her lips. “I was supposed to be meeting someone,” she said, a flash of the earlier annoyance in her eyes. “An old friend.”
“Boyfriend?” I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.
“God, no. Nothing like that,” she laughed. “But it seems he’s just cancelled on me. So now… I’m just slumming it. His loss is your win, I suppose.”
“I’ll definitely take the win,” I said, my voice softening slightly. “Everyone needs to escape sometimes.”
Something flashed in her eyes, a flicker of dark humor before it was gone. She took a slow sip of her drink, a smile playing on her lips. “Escape? This isn't an escape. This is just a strategic relocation between gilded cages. The drinks are better in this one, though.”
I laughed, and the sound was so real it startled me. It wasn't the measured, public laugh I performed on stage; it felt rusty, like something I hadn't used in years. With her, the usual armor I wore just... dissolved. I wasn't the brand or the cautionary tale. I was just a man in a pub, going toe-to-toe with a beautiful, sharp-witted woman, and the relief of it was more intoxicating than any whisky.
Beth leaned in closer, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, what’s your deal? Are you some kind of smooth-talking businessman here to charm us poor Scottish lassies?”
I laughed. “No. Not a businessman, but you’re not that far off the mark. I’m an author and a motivational speaker.”
Her expression shifted, curiosity piquing. “Oh really? Well then, motivate me.” She crossed her arms, a playful glint in her eyes.
“Alright, challenge accepted,” I grinned, clearing my throat dramatically. “Beth, you are a unique and beautiful snowflake. Your energy could power a small city, and your smile melt the ice caps… which, given climate change, might not be the best idea, but you get my point.”
She burst out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “Oh my God, that was absolutely terrible! Do people actually pay you for this?”
I clutched my chest in mock offense. “I’m very successful, believe me. I once motivated a sloth to move slightly faster than usual.”
“Impressive,” she nodded sagely. “I bet that sloth is now the CEO of a company on Wall Street.”
“Nah, last I heard, he was still hanging around,” I quipped, earning another laugh.
Her eyes danced with each smile, and she drifted closer as we talked. The attraction was obvious, impossible to ignore.
“So, Beth,” I said, leaning in a little closer. “We’ve established your friend is an idiot with a broken watch. But what’s the rest of your story? What does a sophisticated woman like you do when she’s not being stood up in a pub?”
She sighed dramatically. “Oh, you know, just trying to escape the pressures of high society. All those fancy galas and champagne fountains can get so tiresome.”
“Indeed. I couldn’t agree more,” I said, and lifted my drink in a toast.
