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She brushed at the tiny granules of salt clinging to her curls and gave me a small smile. “It’s okay, no need to do that. But maybe grab the lid from the salt shaker?” she said, pointing to the floor.
“Right. But, please, sit. I’ll get some towels,” I replied, pulling out the chair next to me and quickly brushing salt off the seat.
“How about I get the towels?” Stan said as he got to his feet. “Please, miss, have a seat.”
The woman’s unique, brandy-colored eyes shifted from Stan to me, and she nodded, “Okay, thanks. The weather is terrible out there,” she said as she sat down while Stan headed to the bar.
“Yes, it is quite dreadful. May I explain what occurred here?” I said, chuckling. “When I inadvertently spilled salt on the table, my friend informed me I needed to throw some over my shoulder to dodge any bad luck.” I gestured towards Stan, who was speaking with the bartender. “As bad luck would have it, the lid wasn’t secure and…well, you know the rest.” I shrugged my shoulders.
“I understand,” she said, her voice tinged with amusement. “I’m London,” she introduced herself.
My eyebrows went up in surprise. “You’re having a go at me,” I said with a chuckle.
She shook her head and laughed. “I swear. My name is London McCrae,” she said.
“A Scottish last name with an English first name?” I teased, unable to resist a bit of playful banter.
“My father’s from Scotland,” she explained. “And I’m guessing you’re from London, based on your reaction to my name,” she said, smiling.
“That’s right.” I leaned back in my chair.
“Have you been in New York for long?” she asked, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear.
“Just arrived yesterday,” I chuckled. “I seem to have brought the London rain with me.”
She laughed, and before we could continue our conversation, Stan returned with towels. While London dried off, I signaled the waiter and ordered her a drink.
“I didn’t catch your name,” she said when the server left. “We were too busy talking about my strange name.”
“Spencer York,” I said, giving her a charming grin and leaning closer. “Nice to meet you, London.”
“Likewise, Spencer,” she smiled, her brandy-colored eyes sparkling.
“And I’m Stan Longley,” Stan interjected, also leaning in closer and giving her a charming smile.
A strange sensation washed over me as I watched Stan flirt with London. “So, London,” I said, steering the conversation back in my direction. “What brings you to this little pub tonight?”
“Just needed a break from the rain,” she replied, taking a sip of her drink.
“Well, lucky for you, you found the entertainment of the evening,” Stan said smoothly. “Don’t you agree, Spencer?”
I gave him a playful glare. “Indeed. But I have a hunch that London will find British humor to be more to her taste, given her first name.”
“Oh, I can handle both American and British humor,” London said with a chuckle. “Alright. Enough about my name.”
As Stan burst out laughing, I leaned in closer to London. “Certainly,” I replied with a nod of my head. “I shall refrain from making any further jests about your name.”
I could see the amusement in her eyes as she took a sip of her drink, and I knew I had caught her attention. I was determined to keep it that way.
Our conversation flowed as easily as the beer, and London’s sparkling eyes and infectious laughter captivated me. She shared stories about her brother Carson and sister Maggie, both of whom lived in Manhattan.
“What a fascinating family you have, London,” I said, intrigued. “You’ve got me curious. Any other hidden gems?”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” London said with a laugh, her eyes twinkling.
“I can’t wait to uncover them all,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. I glanced over at Stan, who was sitting there with a smirk on his face.
“I think it’s time for me to hit the road,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Miss McCrae, it was a pleasure. And Spencer, I’ll see you bright and early Monday. I’ll bring the caffeine.” He gave me a mischievous smile as he stood up and made his way out of the pub.
