Page 42 of Her Braun
The waiter deferred to the bartender, taking the time to run the credit card for the order and the bartender pulled out a menu from behind the bar.
“We have a bunch of craft cocktails that we make here. I think she’d like the Moonflower. I know,” he waved a hand and almost rolled his eyes at the name, “but it’s a kick ass cocktail and I think she would love it. Berry liqueur, lemon, and two liquors from Japan. One a whiskey and the other made from plums. It’s elegant, like she is.”
“Now I have to see who you’re talking about.” Gibson had a feeling that the woman they were talking about had to be worth whatever he’d need to do to get a look.
The credit card machine behind the bar gave a rather dour sound and the waiter gave the bartender a knowing look before he looked back up at Gibson. “You want a look at the lady?”
“Yeah,” he answered in reply. “After all that build up, that was a given.”
The waiter pushed a button on the credit card machine a few times making the receipt paper about four inches long. “Give me a minute. I’m about to tell mister ‘fancy’ over there that his card was declined. I bet you anything he’ll come back with me to the bar to argue. That’ll be your chance.”
With a resounding RIP, the waiter pulled the tape free of the machine and picked up the card with a grim smile on his face. He skirted around the bar and walked at a distinct pace through the milling crowd.
Gibson moved along the bar at a slower clip. He didn’t want to call attention to himself, but he really did want to see the poor woman.
When the waiter reached the table, it seemed like things weren’t going to be as simple as the waiter anticipated.
The man he was talking to didn’t seem to be in any hurry to move, so Gibson did. He took another couple of steps and had nearly reached the other end of the bar when he finally caught a glimpse of the woman that the waiter and bartender were talking about, and he was stunned.
Shaken.
“Shit.”
He’d already had it in his head that he’d help the woman escape from captivity, but now it was a priority instead of just a thought.
An absolute must, because the woman trapped in the corner booth of Vol. 39 was Kay Hata.
His Kay Hata.
The woman he was half sure he was in love with.
EIGHT
Kay wassure her night couldn’t get any worse.
Ha.
Tempting fate.
She really was asking for it, wasn’t she?
The waiter returned and slid her an apologetic wince before he turned back to Doctor McMichael Macmillan who was still squished up beside her.
“Mister M-”
“Doctor,” his voice practically dripped with a caustic tone, “it’s Doc-tor Macmillan.”
The waiter nodded and rectified his mistake. “Doctor Macmillan, I’m sorry, but I need to ask you if you have another form of payment. Your card has been declined.”
The air in their corner of the bar was somehow sucked out of the room and Kay averted her gaze hoping that she would just fade away and become invisible.
She didn’t like the man at all, but really, who wanted to have someone else witness one of those really embarrassing moments?
McMichael sputtered at the waiter, but it was only a few moments later when the doctor who’d all but attached himself to her side, slid out from behind the table and stood up from the banquette bench with a lift of his chin and heavily muttered, “Well, I’ll just have to see how the waiter messed this up.”
She tried to give him a smile but had no idea if she’d actually managed the friendly gesture. Then she sat back heavily against the bench when he was gone.
It took her a moment to realize that she still didn’t have a drink.
