Page 15 of Arse Over Irish Teacup
“This seems to be a habit of yours.” For so many reasons, he was so not amused. Her perfect lemon twist fell from his chest to the floor.
“I’ll find napkins and—” Oh dear. His shirt was soaked, her airy foam scattered everywhere. This would require a lot of napkins. She hurried to the bar and the bartender, having witnessed the catastrophe, already had a towel ready. But when she turned back the man and her drink were storming away for the men’s room.
Looking like she had just run over a puppy, she returned the bartender his towel.
“Can I make you a fresh whiskey sour? I’ll make it a double, and on the sweet side. Maybe extra foam?” She hadn’t answered before he was pouring egg whites again.
Dressed in a clean, dry shirt, the angry man stepped out from the men’s room and scanned the lounge. No sight of the walking disaster. Seeing as the coast was clear he made his way to his usual corner seat. Nobody ever bothered him there.
Excepther.
There she was, the pretty klutz, sitting in his chair, in his corner, beside his window. Did she not see the sign, “No girls allowed?”
Okay, so there was no such sign. So what? She was still in his seat.
Was there any place he could go to get away from her? Irritated, he turned around to find another seat as far away from her as possible!
“Oh! I was hoping I would run into you again.” Poor choice of words. “Wait, please?” She stood up with her arm outstretched.
She’d spotted him. Dammit. “Would you like to spill something on my pants? Run over my dog? Break my nose?” That was harsh and he knew it. And the minute he had spoken those words he felt sorry for it.
“Good gracious no, I only wanted to apologize?—”
“Again.”
Jeez Louise he would not make this easy. “Yes, again. I’m sorry.” She waited a beat for him to say something but he didn’t. Okay, she could make her own gesture of goodwill. “Can I at least buy you an I’m-sorry-for-spilling-my-drink all-over-you drink?”
“And for dropping your suitcase on my foot?”
“And for dropping my suitcase on your foot,” she said in a dry voice. Her own throbbing foot reminded her that she had dropped a very heavy case on him. “Your foot’s still okay?”
Seeing that her concern was genuine, he eased up. “It doesn’t need to be amputated. You might have ruined my dreams of ever becoming a ballerina though.”
Bethany grinned at the sarcasm. It was just the sort of remark her grandmother would have made. The thought made her heart ache and eyes burn with tears wanting to fall.
“It’s a free bar.”
“That’s right. I forgot.” Beth looked away and sniffled. She would not cry! This was not the way she imagined her vacation of a lifetime would begin.
His tone softened at the sound of her sniffles. “Listen, it’s fine. See? Look.” He stood on one foot shaking the other. She looked up at him with tears threatening to fall at any moment.
He ran his hand through his hair. He needed to make peace with her. “You already have a drink. How about I get my own and join you?” There. A quick drink to smooth things over. Then he wouldn’t ever have to see her again.
Beth figured that meant he was going to walk away and not come back and who would blame him? She nodded her head with a weak smile.
And was utterly shocked when two minutes later he returned with a bloody Mary in his hand.
He sat beside her in a seat that was more like an armchair than a typical hard, airport seat. Between them was a small round table where he would not place his drink because the purpose of this conversation was to make sure he hadn’t crushed this woman’s spirit with his cruelty.
He stirred his Bloody Mary with the celery stick and took a long, refreshing drink. There. That was better. He looked at the whiskey sour in her hand. “The bartender used too many egg whites in your drink.” Typical young bartenders. It didn’t matter where the bar was, they were all the same: Put a pretty face in front of them and they all go stupid.
“He did that special for me. The foam is my favorite part and after he saw what I did to you, thought I could use a little extra foam. Nice guy.”
“I told him my favorite part is the vodka but he didn’t add extra.”
She grinned. “I guess this just isn’t your day.”
He allowed a small outburst of laughter. “You could say that. So, what’s your name?”
