Chapter 7: Angel
Onyx was out of the office for the rest of the week, so I didn’t see him, and on Friday afternoon, I packed up early, telling Neil that when I passed him on my way out, it was too sunny to be stuck in the office.
Which wasn’t entirely true.
It was sunny outside, but I had a flight to catch, and I didn’t want the office to know I was spending my weekend in Dallas in talks with my potential new client. I had this meeting so wrapped up and low-key that I hadn’t even told Sally I was going. She thought that I was going home to finish my kitchen renovation.
Last night, I’d packed my bag, but I had a few hours before I needed to be at BNA, and I hated eating at airports, so I made a quick snack, changed into more comfortable flying attire, and read over the draft proposal and contract.
The two-hour flight was relaxing, and I caught a cab easily to my hotel. I usually liked to wander around and get the feel of the place; however, it was already after eight, and this hotel had a bar and a restaurant, but I could eat at the bar rather than the formal restaurant. After unpacking my clothes for the morning, I headed down to the bar and got seated close to the TV.
Staff always wanted to put females in the corner or tucked away somewhere, but I genuinely enjoyed watching ESPNews, even when I wasn’t working. With my Kindle in my hand and a small purse, I happily sat at a small booth and ordered a glass of white wine.
As I waited for the menu, I fired off a quick text to my mom to let her know I had landed and was in the bar. I may be twenty-eight years old, but I still let my mom know when I arrive at my destination, no matter the time and no matter the reason for thejourney. It was never a good idea to piss off the parents because you forgot to let them know you landed.
I also loved the idea that my mom thought a single female sitting in a bar with a glass of wine and a book was enough to attract an admirer. Real life wasn’t as they portrayed it in the movies or the books. I had eaten at many a restaurant by myself, and never once had someone sent me over a drink or tried to sit with me. The majority of single travelers, if notallthe single travelers, were content in their own space, enjoying their meal in solitude.
My cheeseburger was delicious, my skin-on fries crispy and seasoned well, and as I finished my wine, I was really tempted to have dessert, but having not been to the gym all week, I knew that was a bad idea. However, the extra glass of wine was fine, or that’s how I was convincing myself as I ordered another.
Engrossed in my book, I thought the shadow that loomed over me was the staff. I was not expecting to look up and find an attractive guy looking down at me.
“Hi?”
“Hey, you mind if I share?” he asked me as he looked around the bar. “Place is kind of busy, and you look like you’re almost done?”
The bar was busier. I hadn’t noticed the uptick in noise because I was near the TV, and my book had been too good.
“Oh, sure.” I watched him as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I did just order another glass though, so I’m not ready to leave just yet.”
“That’s okay,” he told me with a smile. “I don’t mind company.”
And although I feared it was a line, it wasn’t; he was merely being polite as he turned his attention to the TV and didn’t say another word to me as I waited for my wine.
He placed his order, which was a chicken wrap and curly fries, and I couldn’t hide my smile.
“Why are you laughing?” he asked me as the waiter left the table.
“I’m not,” I lied.
“It’s the curly fries, isn’t it?” He scratched his eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder, ensuring no one was listening. “I don’t get them at home, so if no one’s watching, I sneak them in,” he whispered conspiratorially.
“I’m not judging,” I told him as my wine arrived. “I don’t get this at home either.”
He laughed as I took a sip and held his hand out. “Gareth.”
“Angel.”
His eyes twinkled with amusement, and I shook my head. “You don’t need to say anything. I know.”
“It’s such an easy pick-up line,” he said with a grin. “Or a cliché stripper name, when you don’t look anything like a stripper.”
“Or a hooker’s,” I added with a laugh. “I’m neither by the way! Just a girl with parents who thoughtAngelawas too conventional,” I assured him, and we fell into a comfortable silence.
When Gareth’s dinner arrived, I had almost finished my wine, and as he ordered another beer for himself, he asked me if I wanted another glass.
“Oh, um.” I felt uncertain and then thought about it. My meeting was at eleven tomorrow, Gareth had been nothing but polite, and I found myself agreeing but insisting my wine be put on my tab.
“You want one?” Gareth asked as he pointed at his fries.
