Page 14 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
The clumsy woman with the big brown eyes looked as if she might burst into tears. His cynical side had come out in full force. Way to go, jerk wad. She didn’t deserve that.
Before Beth saw his expression soften, she grabbed hold of the suitcase handle once again and marched away practically dragging the case behind her.
He struggled with whether or not to help her.
His foot throbbed.
He should help her.
Of course, he should. Come on, he wasn’t raised in a barn!
He dithered too long. The clumsy woman was placing the red beast onto the scale at the check-in counter with the help of an older male attendant who was clearly besotted with her.
He watched the exchange as other passengers were inconvenienced, forced to walk around him standing in the middle of the terminal like a pillar of salt. He caught himself smiling as he observed her rummaging through her purse. The attendant was smiling too—especially wide as she bent over to chase after a small bottle rolling across the floor. When she triumphantly caught the bottle, he shook his head with a grin and walked away.
“Good thing I caught up with these! I can’t fly without them.” She opened her palm to produce the small bottle of medication.
“Now, you’re all set Miss Spinner. This is your boarding pass. Keep this and your passport handy because you’re going to need it at security.” The attendant pointed to his left to the security line. “So, your first trip to Ireland. That’s exciting.”
“Is it exciting? I know it should be. I’m waiting to be excited. Right now, I’m really nervous.”
“Don’t you worry. A pretty little thing like you, if you need help all you will have to do is flutter those eyelashes of yours and flash that smile. Now, don’t forget, after you get through security there is a first-class lounge. Just follow the orange signs that will be to your right.”
“That lounge sounds nice. I’ve never flown first-class before.”
“What better time to splurge than on a twelve-hour flight, too. You won’t be sorry. In the lounge there’s a free bar and buffet, private washrooms, recliners, and it’s always quiet.” Since he was at least twenty years older than Beth, he knew this exchange needed to wrap up. Although he would have happily detained this charming woman for as long as possible. “So, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“I guess not. Thank you,” Beth said, in an unsure but determined voice.
By the time she spotted the entrance to the lounge she assumed she had just trekked through half of the airport. Scads of people were walking in every direction, some fast some painfully slow and some even stood in place causing a stop in the foot traffic. Everyone was staring at their phone screen instead of where they were walking. She was nearly trampled twice, by no fault of her own, which threw her into a rack of Minnesota Wild sweatshirts. Both she and the rack stumbled to the floor but did anyone offer help? No.
Oh well, they all had flights to catch too. She dusted herself off and sprung up. When she swept the hair back, she couldn’t have been more pleased to see the door to the lounge staring her in the face.
Thank goodness.
The door opened, she stepped inside, and like magic, all the noise and hustle and bustle stopped. Inside, the lounge was quiet and the people in it were in no hurry to get anywhere, except maybe the bar.
Beth approached the small bar where a bartender who looked barely old enough to be drinking himself was pouring drinks for a couple. While waiting, she looked around and spied a quiet corner near the window. That’s where she would take her drink.
“What can I get for you miss?”
“Could I have a whiskey sour, made with Jameson if you have it, please? And a little on the sweet side?”
“Coming right up.” The boy smiled and went to work.
It surprised her when instead of pouring simple whiskey sour mix, he poured egg whites into a shaker, followed with lemon juice, bitters, syrup and ice. He shook up the ingredients then with a flourish, poured the mixture into a glass and topped it with a perfect spiral of lemon.
Beth took a sip and exhaled with a smile on her lips. It was perfect. A girl could get used to this first-class thing. She thanked him, left a generous tip, then turned for that cozy corner by the window.
Then again, she should eat a little something with her drink. She didn’t need to be plastered.
Beth turned back towards the buffet. And crashed into a body.
“Oh, good gracious! I’m sorry!” she cried as her perfect whiskey sour was relocated onto someone’s shirt. She looked up and gasped. “You!”
“You.”
Beth tore her eyes away from the familiar, gorgeous but blazing mad blue ones of the man whose foot she had crushed. Gulp.
