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Slipping the strap of her heavy bag off her arm, Kimber plopped it onto the bed while processing her immediate first impression of Pel. Arrogant, self-centered.
Difficult.
Great.
Dressing in dark jeans, a pale-yellow blouse, and tall black boots, she twisted her long, dark brown hair into a professional bun at the nape, then added small gold studs to her ears and a delicate matching necklace. Casual, yet professional. Grabbing a handheld recorder in case Pel wanted to start the interview early, she collected her notebook and some other essentials to put in her portfolio. The phone in her room rang, a curt woman telling her a car had arrived for her.
The shiny black Lexus waiting at the curb and cheery driver that opened the door made her sour first impression of Pel a bit more tolerable. No one had ever sent a car for her before.
Dougal’s pub had a bright green exterior with blazing white window trim, an aging metal roof, and a cast iron sign over the door with the establishment’s name painted in blue. The driver let her out, bid her a good evening, and said he’d wait until she was ready to return to her hotel. He waved off her attempt to dissuade him. “Mr. Cappa’s orders, ma’am.”
Thanking him, she stepped up the cobblestone walk to the front entrance, where, funnily, a handful of electric bikes sat. Jaunty strains of music filtered from the closed door, mixed with enough loud voices to suggest something big was happening inside.
A voice sounded behind her. “Allow me, miss.”
The man reached politely around her to open the door. Thanking him, Kimber did a double take. He had a plain face, so nondescript that she thought he was wearing some sort of mask. But when she looked again, she realized his features looked normal. Morehuman.
Aware that she was staring, Kimber moved past him and stepped in. “What’s the occasion inside? Sounds like quite the party.”
The man paused. “It’s a Thursday.”
“Is it a special day, or…?”
“No. It’s just a Thursday.”
Her attention turned to the massive crowd inside. “Wow, this is a lot of people for the middle of the week.” Glancing at the man over her shoulder, she did a double take to find him gone.
How would she ever find Pel in this madness? Kimber moved through the mass of bodies and pulled out her phone. He hadn’t texted where to meet him inside, and there was no way was she finding a table. Glancing up, she spied an empty stool at the bar and hurried to it. The female bartender watched her with an annoyed sort of amusement as Kimber slid onto the stool like she was stealing second base.
Kimber grinned at the bartender. “That was luck, finding a seat in a crowd like this.”
“Oh, yeah, that was real luck o’ the Irish there, lass.” She sounded bored. “Tourist, eh? Let me guess, you’re dying to try the Alien Ale. Or a double shot of Extraterrestrial Espresso. Maybe the Abduction Apple Hard Cider.”
The woman said the word in monotone, as if she repeated those same words day in and out. It took a moment for Kimber’s brain to sort through the woman’s pronounced Irish accent.
“Yes, I’m a tourist. Sort of. And no drink for me, thanks.”
“Right. You look like a fancy bottled water type.”
The bartender was mid-thirties. Broad shoulders, sturdy build, and glossy black hair. She wore a consistent resting-bitch-face probably born out of necessity after many years in this bar. Her name tag said, ‘Belinda’. Kimber learned early on how to handle abrupt people and never shied from the chance to win someone over.
“Belinda, I’m Kimber McLeedy.” She offered a hand that wasn’t accepted. “I’m meeting someone. Do you know Pel Cappa?”
The woman scoffed. “Who doesn’t? He brings women in here all the time. Sits by the window that overlooks the peninsula. But he ain’t here. Sorry, sweetheart. He’s probably tied up—literally—with someone who only plays librarian in the bedroom.” Belinda waved a hand in a circular motion at Kimber. “You’re in a pub. What’s with the bun and grandma jewelry?”
Kimber touched the necklace. “I’m here on business.”
Belinda scoffed again and rolled her eyes. Something warm touched the center of Kimber’s back. Little goosebumps lit on her skin. The length of her spine heated, and warmth spread to her toes. The scent of masculine shampoo filled her nose as someone angled beside her and came into view. She glanced into azure eyes and a strong, handsome face. Thick white-blonde hair fell in waves over a wide forehead, a square jaw dusted with golden stubble. He smiled brilliantly.
Her breath caught, just like in the movies—stuck right in the bottom of her throat as her heart raced wildly.
He gestured to her hair and leaned easily against the bar. “I like the bun. And since your man isn’t here, I’ll just have to keep you company until he shows up.”
Chapter Three
Ethan
“Aye,Christ,Ethan,givethe woman a moment to breathe before you try to get in her drawers.”
