People were willing to wait for more than an hour to experience the organized chaos, which was why Whitney was currently stuck waiting.
“I just need to pay for my takeout order really quick,” she shouted over the noise while waving down the bartender.
“Sure,” he ambled over in no big hurry. “I’ve seen you in here before. You work up the block, don’t you?” He took the ticket and ran her credit card.
“I do. Yes.” Whitney preferred the days when Rufus was at the bar making smoothies. She was sorry she ever complained about the constant whirring of the blenders now. The martini shakers were a lot more annoying.
The bartender shook his long, wavy, brown hair back over his shoulders. “Here’s your receipt, and a little advice for free: You must be a really good lawyer because you’ve just made my heart plead guilty to falling for you.” He winked and then strolled off.
Where the heck had he come up with that line?
Finally, the movie clapper sound came over the intercom and a server shouted, “It’s a wrap, Whitney!”
“That’s me!” She threw her hand in the air and pushed through the throng of people to pick up her food. At just over five-feet tall, Whitney couldn’t even put an eyeball on the guy holding her to-go order as she shuffled and scooched across the room.
But just as she reached the server, she watched someone else walk off with her food.
“Wait!” Whitney yelled. “That’s my dinner. I’m Whitney.”
The server looked at her in a panic, then pointed to the tall redhead who was practically out the door.
She glared at him. “That was mine. The special? Honey lime chicken breast and Caprese salad?”
He looked at the ticket in his hand. “Yeah, that was it. Sorry. That never happens.”
She swallowed back the angst of yet another delay. “Fine. Can you just bring me something from the kitchen so I can get out of here? I’ve got work to do.”
Becky rushed over. “What’s wrong?”
Whitney swung around, regretting her outburst. “It’s fine. Someone took my order. I’ll just take whatever you can pull together quickly.”
“Oh, Whitney, I’m so sorry. I know how busy you are, and you’re one of our favorite customers,” Becky said. “Let me comp the meal.”
“Really, it’s okay. I’m not even picky. Can you just grab me something, anything, from the kitchen?”
“Yes, yes. I’m on it. Give me two minutes. Stay right here.” In no time flat, Becky came back carrying a large white bag with the logo on it. “Here you go. We’re so sorry. We still have a few kinks to work out in the new process.”
“I’m all set now. Thank you.” Whitney walked out of The Wrap with the bag, glad to be out of the crowd.
She had taken only a few steps when thunder rolled, nearly vibrating the streets. The sky darkened as clouds gathered.
Trying to beat the threatening storm, she picked up her pace, but the sky opened up. Icy raindrops left a shiver in their wake. Ducking her head, she kicked out of her high heels, clutching them in her free hand. Repositioning her takeout closer to her body, she hoped the paper bag wouldn’t burst.
At the intersection the flashing crosswalk symbol was a blur of orange.
She brushed the back of her hand across her face, looking both ways when a kaleidoscope of color came careening in her direction.
She arched to the side, tucking her shoulders to protect herself from the object sailing toward her.
Something bumped her, sending her off balance.
Not something. Someone. It was like slow motion as a man’s arm stretched out across her, catching her at the waist before she went completely off balance; then with his free hand, he caught the colorful umbrella midair.
Surprise left her tongue-tied, and trying to catch her breath.
The stranger helped bring her to her feet.
Stunned, she collected herself, looking up into the deepest green eyes she’d ever seen. Unsure if they were beautiful or filled with trouble, she pulled away with a “Thank you.”
