Chapter One

 

I rolled my eyes after hanging up the phone. Cedar was laughing, I heard it in her voice. What was the girl up to?

You have a VIP coming in who’ll be asking for you. His plane just belly landed here, and he needs a stiff drink.

Great, just what I needed – someone who deemed himself as special. And what did she mean when she said his plane belly landed? Like without wheels and shit? How would that even work? No wonder the guy needed a stiff drink. I bet they all did.

Sure enough, the rumblings and rumours were already flowing through the pub, the joys of living in a small town. Some said there were multiple injuries, some said they thought someone died, but they were gossiping. Someone even questioned if the storm off the coast was responsible. All of them were a bunch of busybodies. Had something bad actually happened, Cedar would’ve mentioned it. She worked there for crying out loud, instead she was practically giddy. Whatever had gone on, it wasn’t super serious.

I shook my head and carried on with my work, wondering when this VIP would arrive. God, I hated those types. The ones who expected to be catered to and have people grovel at their feet, yet they tell the world they want to be treated like regular folks. All lies. But that’s what men do. Lie. All. The. Time.

Putting some empty bottles into a busboy tray, I surveyed the area. Did I have time to manage some paperwork in the backroom, run a quick inventory, or should I stay out and keep my eyes peeled?

I washed the countertop for the four hundredth time and went into the back room to toss the dirty rags and grab a fresh set. As I stepped back into my life, because the pub was my heart and soul, I spotted my old friend and local pilot entering with someone completely unfamiliar.

Eric locked onto me with a slight bob of his head, and I took that as my cue to head over.

The low, idle chatter from the dozen or so patrons ceased as they all took in the stranger strutting alongside Eric. He was a tall drink of water wearing aviator shades, and a navy blazer with a crisp white button up. He looked every bit the pilot that Eric was.

Inhaling a fresh scent of the lemon wedges as I ambled to the end of the bar, I steadied myself and extended my hand. “Hey, Eric.”

He smiled and stared. It must’ve been tough for him as he was a hugger, but I was not one of those. Instead, he gave me a solid pump. “Amber.”

“How’s the baby?” I gave a side eye glance to the walking sex on a stick.

“Henry is doing great.”

Eric’s girlfriend recently had a little one. I hadn’t yet met the baby, but there was a final bonfire for Thanksgiving where that was the plan.

“Amber, I’d like to you meet, Mr. Welsh. He was enroute from the Queen Charlotte’s to Seattle when they ran into some electrical problems.”

Guests leaned forward, arguably to hear more details.

I waved them away. “Back to your drinks, everyone.”

Mr. Welsh put his hand out to which I graciously accepted. It was warm and soft, and he surprised me by not crushing my hand in a shake the way most guys asserting their dominance did.

“Pleasure to meet you.” His voice had an accent, British or something, but it most definitely wasn’t local in origin.

“Are you the pilot?” I had to know, as did the other guests who weren’t even trying to be obvious in their eavesdropping.

“No, ma’am, I only passenger. My crew at airport working. A lady – Cedar? – said you had the stiff drink.”

Damn, I could listen to him talk all day, and may have to thank her later for the sweet melodic voice. No wonder the girl was giddy. “Absolutely. What can I get you?”

“Jack on the rocks.” He paused in thought. “Make it two, the first go down quick.” Mr. Welsh turned to Eric. “You?”

Eric waved his hand. “None, thanks, I’m driving.”

“Well, have a seat boys.” I turned to the crowd of gawkers. “Electrical problems. Nothing serious. Back to your drinks.”

I left Eric and no first name VIP to sit themselves while I went behind the bar to pour a couple of drinks for our guest. I called into the kitchen. “Dale, can you whip up a batch of waffle fries.”

It wasn’t anything fancy, but it helped to take the edge off. I didn’t need any drunks in the place.

Three drinks on a tray, I approached the table. A light scent of cologne tickled my nose, and I knew it wasn’t Eric. Since the baby was born, he’d stopped wearing any, so it had to be the VIP. It was intoxicating, like a spicy pepper mixed with cinnamon.

I set down his two drinks and handed Eric a tall, frosted glass. “It’s a Coke.”

“Thanks.” He took a sip.

Mr. Welsh did exactly as he said he would, he downed the first glass in record time.

“Good?” I stared into his dark eyes.

The pub wasn’t brightly lit so I couldn’t tell if they were blue, brown or a dark green. It didn’t much matter though as they had some kind of hidden power and they weakened me slightly at the knees. What was wrong with me?

“Very much.”

“Great.” So far, aside from his stunning good looks and sultry voice, there wasn’t much else to go with his apparent status. Weren’t rich guys supposed to be charming and sweet and polite? “I have a basket of fries coming out shortly for you.”

“Aren’t you going to stay a while?” Eric asked, with a hint of plea in his voice.

“In a bit, maybe? I have a few things to attend to.”

Besides, I wasn’t here for entertaining nor for the entertainment. However, my patrons were still glued to the guest, as if waiting for something magical to happen. Small towns were funny that way. Sure, over the summer we were packed to the brim with tourists, but this guy really stood out. Most of our visitors were dressed for the beach, Mr. Welsh was dressed for a high-pressure business meeting, and damn if he wasn’t nice to look at. His top button undone and hanging open, it was a great visual.

Dale rang from the back, and I went to retrieve their order. The fries were perfect, just the right amount of crispness to them. They looked good enough to eat, and I wanted to steal one before I took it over, but I held back, placing them between Eric and our guest.

“For the munchies.” I beamed.

Our kitchen didn’t make anything fancy, just your typical bar food, and a basket of waffle fries were usually the go-to.

“Thank you.” Mr. Welsh reached for my hand. “Join us?”

I glanced over to Eric, who shrugged. He was an excellent judge of character and if he didn’t seem put off by this guy, then I guessed it was okay. My own instincts weren’t telling me to run, but then again, they weren’t highly in tune either. I double-checked the pub, everyone was well taken care of and anything that popped up, Caroline, my employee, would be able to handle it.

Mr. Welsh rose as I pulled out my chair, a move catching me off guard. I sat closer to Eric, but turned my body in Mr. Welsh’s direction, crossing my legs at the knee, exposing a bit of leg which didn’t go unnoticed. The very idea of a little innocent fun with the stranger crossed my mind and lit my core on fire.

“So, Mr. Welsh, tell me, what had you travelling across the region?” Best to decide to skip over the mechanical failure part.

Eric leaned in and grabbed a waffle fry.

“Business.”

“Are you from the Charlottes?”

He shook his head. “No.”

Well, this was fun. One-word answers. “Are you from Seattle?”

“No.”

I tipped my head back to Eric. For real? I could maybe listen to the guy talk, but there had to be more conversation than this.

He shrugged and grabbed another fry.

“Any idea how long you’ll be in Cheshire Bay?”

“No idea.”

“Should you feel the need to spend the night, there are a few great motels. But I’m sorry, there’s no fancy chains here.” I gave him another once over. He came across as a five-star resort and suite kind of guy, none of which was available in Cheshire Bay.

“I sure whatever accommodations can be acquired will be more than suitable.” He retrieved a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Miss Cedar presented a list. Which you recommend?”

Eric stole another fry and rose. “I need to get back to the airport. Should I…” He fumbled over his words.

“Oh, don’t worry about the drinks. They’re on the house.”

“No, not that.” He retrieved some cash from his wallet.

“Seriously, Eric, put it away. Don’t make me cause a scene.” I cocked an eyebrow as he knew I’d do it too.

“Thank you.” He focused on the VIP. “How will you get back to the airport, or should I come and pick you up in a bit?”

It was a good question. Was the airport going to be this guy’s service? That was far above good friendly island service, in my humble opinion. I waited for an answer from Mr. Welsh. Was he expecting Eric to be his chauffeur?

“I be fine. I sure Miss Ember can provide number to local taxi.”

Amber, but close enough. Providing a taxi was within my services.

Mr. Welsh shook Eric’s hand. “Thank you for hospitality. You very gracious host.”

It took Eric by surprise. At first, he wore shock, and then a smile appeared. “My pleasure. If there’s anything we can help you with, please let us know.”

“Yes, thank you.”

Eric waved and walked out the door.

I faced the handsome guy and tipped my head to the side as I studied him.

He tapped the paper with the motel listings. “Which better?”

I took the list from him, slightly – and accidentally – grazing my fingertips over his. It was electric. And foolish. And cliché. So friggin’ cliché. I wasn’t in a Hallmark movie, this man wasn’t going to ride in here, or fly as it was, and change my outlook on men. This was real life.

Men as a whole sucked, and truly all the good ones were gone. All that were left were the assholes who believed you owed them a good time if they so much as bought you a drink. No, thank you. Not for me. That’s why this pub was my home. I poured everything into it, blood, sweat and tears, and as sole owner it was all mine. Since it was also paid for, no one could take it away from me either.

Mr. Welsh tapped his long finger on the paper. The nails were perfectly filed, and it made me wonder just how VIP this guy was? Clearly, he wasn’t just a run of the mill executive, this guy was high-level. He had a crew to fly him around, not just a random pilot, he specifically said my crew, so he had money. He was tight-lipped too, not giving away anything with his one-word answers.

“Miss?” But his voice was soothing, and it called out to me like I was lost at sea and he was the lighthouse, pulling me in.

I shook my head from the dirty thoughts suddenly floating through my brain and stared down at the paper. “If you want an ocean view, then I would select Bay Western. I believe they have a suite on the end facing the bay.”

But I could only assume as I wasn’t a frequent guest.

Mr. Welsh sent me a smile, the kind to melt the ice around my holey hardened heart, and an expression that pulled me in like a tractor beam. Oh dear. If I continued to sit with him, I was going to be in big trouble. I’d already had enough of troubling men to last me a lifetime. Best to leave him be and get back to work.

“If you need anything, flag me down.” Before he had the chance to vocalize a sound, I was out of my seat in a flash, back over to the bar where I continued to watch and study the foreign man temporarily trapped in our community.

So what if he was handsome? Lots of guys were. And yes, his accent was killer. Big deal. But damn if there wasn’t something mesmerizing about him, and as much hospitality as I could offer, I highly doubted it would be enough to satisfy this guy. He was light-years out of my league, and men like him were never interested in gals like me.