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“I’m hoping you still have food going. I know it’s late, but even a bowl of soup would be great.” I smiled at the gorgeous man, praying he’d take pity on me and scrounge up some food, and his smile widened. He leaned on the bar, bringing his face closer to mine and pushed a menu towards me.
“Anything for you, hen. What can I get for you, darling?” I almost passed out at his smile, my ladyparts immediately leaving the cave with the golden god and hopping on the bartender train. Listen, I know I’d mentioned that being called “darling” was a pet peeve of mine. But when this man said it? With the Highlands dancing in his voice?
Well,yes, sir. I could be a bonnie lass all day long.
Also, did he just call me a hen? Was that a good thing? Or was he calling me chicken? Confusion made me flustered.
“Um,” I stuttered.
“Lay off, Graham. Ignore this one. He puts on the charm as liberally as he does the jam on his toast.” A slim woman with a crop of pretty curls rolled her eyes at me. “Graham was born with a silver tongue, and he makes a habit of flirting with every woman that steps through the door.”
“A habit you could learn from, my acid-tongued wasp,” Graham said, winking as he leaned on the bar.
“Do wasps even have tongues?” The woman turned to me, as though I’d know the answer, and I gaped at her.
“I have no idea,” I said faintly. Surely they did, right?
Quickly, everyone in the pub took up the argument, and I blinked as people shouted over each other, sure in their knowledge of bee tongues.
Except for the golden god. A shiver of awareness trickled over my skin as I caught him staring at me. At least he had the grace to look away when I met his eyes.
“Well, now, you’ve gone and started it. Have a seat then.” The woman patted the stool next to her, and I dropped into it, stunned at the voracity of arguments erupting around me.
“Wasps are different from bees,” I surprised myself by saying.
“Och, fair point.” The woman turned. “Our friend here says wasps aren’t the same as bees. If I recall correctly, Graham referred to me as a wasp, not a bee. Would that be correct?”
“If the sting fits…” Graham murmured behind me, sliding a pink drink in front of me.
“What’s this?” I eyed the drink suspiciously.
“It’s rhubarb gin. From Munroe,” Graham nodded to the golden god.Munroe. I rolled his name around on my tongue, like savoring a sweet treat, and then glared down at the drink. Did he think he could just buy me a drink without even talking to me and I’d fall at his feet?
Yes, my body screamed.
Traitorous bitch.
“I don’t drink gin.” It came out rudely, and I realized it was best not to get on anyone’s bad side before I knew the town a bit better. “But thank you.”
“You hear that, lad? Not a gin drinker.” Graham beamed at Munroe, as though I’d told him he was the hottest man in the room. Which he was close…but not as hot as Munroe. “Looks like I’ll have to see to her pleasure this evening.”
Wait…was he saying?
“What’ll it be then, darling?” Graham leaned forward again, and I blinked at him for a moment, basking in his handsomeness, before shaking my head.
“My God, you guys lay it on thick here, don’t you?” I asked.
“Thick’s the best way, don’t you think?” Graham asked and the woman behind me mocked banging her head against the bar.
“Even for you, Graham, that’s a bit much. Get the lady a glass of wine or something and some food. She asked for dinner, not a date. I swear, one of these days one of these women is going to reach across the bar and pop you across the nose.”
“I’m guessing I know which one that will be.” Graham blew a kiss at the woman.
“I’m tempted every day.” The woman turned to me. “I’m Agnes by the way. If he gets to be too much, just let me know. He flirts as easily as he breathes, but trust me, he’s harmless.”
“Och, you wound me,” Graham said, holding a hand to his heart. “You make me sound like a wee bairn, unable to defend a lass in a brawl.”
“Who is brawling around here?” Agnes looked around as the bee versus wasp argument heightened. “Actually, never mind. We may have one on us tonight if that’s the way things are going.”
