Page 11 of A Thistle Beyond Time
EJ gave him a quick nod of the head and Cormac did the same.
“What can I get for you?”
“Can I get a Margarita, EJ? Dylan, Cormac, what do you want to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever’s on tap, EJ,” Dylan said.
“Whiskey, please,” Cormac requested.
They settled in at the bar. Jenna and Dylan both took stools and Cormac leaned his tall frame against the bar as he surveyed the room. Jenna couldn’t help but notice the women at nearby tables giving him the once over. For some reason she couldn’t name, she reached out to touch his hand. She was surprised by the warm sensation that made its way up her arm at the feel of his skin. Cormac looked at her, head tipped, questioning. Was he feeling it too?
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she lied. She could feel the warmth making its way up to her face and knew she was blushing… again. Thankfully, the lighting in the bar was dim and she hoped he wouldn’t notice.
“I be fine, lass. What of ye? Are ye well then?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
EJ arrived with their drinks.
“Dylan says you’re from Scotland. I’ve given you the finest Scotch Whiskey we have. I hope you enjoy it.”
Cormac took a sip, appearing to savor the flavor of the drink. “’Tis verra good. It rivals the finest I’ve ever had. Thank ye.”
Jenna couldn’t help noticing that Cormac and EJ were sizing each other up. She knew EJ had a bit of a crush on her and Cormac was under some delusion that she was going to marry him. They were doing that posturing thing that guys did. The testosterone flying around the bar was palpable and was making things somewhat uncomfortable for Jenna.
A group at a table near the stage started waving and calling to her.
“Jenna, Jenna!”
“Oh, no,” she muttered under her breath. “Hi.” She reluctantly smiled and waved back.
“Who are they?” Cormac asked.
“Some friends of my ex.”
“I take it yer not happy to see them?”
“No. I can’t say that I am.”
Dylan had wandered off and was talking to a group of girls at the far end of the bar. Cormac picked up Jenna’s drink and smelled it. “What is this drink?” he asked.
“It’s a Margarita. It’s made with tequila. Taste it,” Jenna offered.
Cormac did as she suggested and she could see from his facial expressions that he was searching his brain to identify the taste. “Hmmm…” was all he said.
“Don’t you like it?” Jenna asked.
He lifted his glass. “I prefer the whiskey.”
Music was playing in the background and people were filtering up towards the stage, to take their turn at singing.
“Cormac, you have a horrified look on your face. You’re not enjoying the music?” Jenna observed.
“They sound like yowling cats, lass. I’ve never heard the like. Those people shouldnae be singing. They be verra bad at it.”
“That’s kind of the idea. People come in, have enough drinks to get their courage up, and then go up and sing their hearts out. Sometimes they’re good – and sometimes they’re pretty awful.”
Cormac appeared skeptical. The song ended and there was a slight smattering of polite applause. Dylan sauntered onto the stage and the bar patrons erupted in cheers. Dylan chose to sing ‘Living On A Prayer’by Bon Jovi. Unlike most people who tried singing that song, Dylan did it justice. He belted it out and had a swarm of women dancing at the foot of the stage.
