Page 1 of Awake in Cheshire Bay
Chapter One
I rolled my eyes after hanging up the phone. Cedar was laughing, I heard it in her voice. What was the girl up to?
You have a VIP coming in who’ll be asking for you. His plane just belly landed here, and he needs a stiff drink.
Great, just what I needed – someone who deemed himself as special. And what did she mean when she said his plane belly landed? Like without wheels and shit? How would that even work? No wonder the guy needed a stiff drink. I bet they all did.
Sure enough, the rumblings and rumours were already flowing through the pub, the joys of living in a small town. Some said there were multiple injuries, some said they thought someone died, but they were gossiping. Someone even questioned if the storm off the coast was responsible. All of them were a bunch of busybodies. Had something bad actually happened, Cedar would’ve mentioned it. She worked there for crying out loud, instead she was practically giddy. Whatever had gone on, it wasn’t super serious.
I shook my head and carried on with my work, wondering when this VIP would arrive. God, I hated those types. The ones who expected to be catered to and have people grovel at their feet, yet they tell the world they want to be treated like regular folks. All lies. But that’s what men do. Lie. All. The. Time.
Putting some empty bottles into a busboy tray, I surveyed the area. Did I have time to manage some paperwork in the backroom, run a quick inventory, or should I stay out and keep my eyes peeled?
I washed the countertop for the four hundredth time and went into the back room to toss the dirty rags and grab a fresh set. As I stepped back into my life, because the pub was my heart and soul, I spotted my old friend and local pilot entering with someone completely unfamiliar.
Eric locked onto me with a slight bob of his head, and I took that as my cue to head over.
The low, idle chatter from the dozen or so patrons ceased as they all took in the stranger strutting alongside Eric. He was a tall drink of water wearing aviator shades, and a navy blazer with a crisp white button up. He looked every bit the pilot that Eric was.
Inhaling a fresh scent of the lemon wedges as I ambled to the end of the bar, I steadied myself and extended my hand. “Hey, Eric.”
He smiled and stared. It must’ve been tough for him as he was a hugger, but I was not one of those. Instead, he gave me a solid pump. “Amber.”
“How’s the baby?” I gave a side eye glance to the walking sex on a stick.
“Henry is doing great.”
Eric’s girlfriend recently had a little one. I hadn’t yet met the baby, but there was a final bonfire for Thanksgiving where that was the plan.
“Amber, I’d like to you meet, Mr. Welsh. He was enroute from the Queen Charlotte’s to Seattle when they ran into some electrical problems.”
Guests leaned forward, arguably to hear more details.
I waved them away. “Back to your drinks, everyone.”
Mr. Welsh put his hand out to which I graciously accepted. It was warm and soft, and he surprised me by not crushing my hand in a shake the way most guys asserting their dominance did.
“Pleasure to meet you.” His voice had an accent, British or something, but it most definitely wasn’t local in origin.
“Are you the pilot?” I had to know, as did the other guests who weren’t even trying to be obvious in their eavesdropping.
“No, ma’am, I only passenger. My crew at airport working. A lady – Cedar? – said you had the stiff drink.”
Damn, I could listen to him talk all day, and may have to thank her later for the sweet melodic voice. No wonder the girl was giddy. “Absolutely. What can I get you?”
“Jack on the rocks.” He paused in thought. “Make it two, the first go down quick.” Mr. Welsh turned to Eric. “You?”
Eric waved his hand. “None, thanks, I’m driving.”
“Well, have a seat boys.” I turned to the crowd of gawkers. “Electrical problems. Nothing serious. Back to your drinks.”
I left Eric and no first name VIP to sit themselves while I went behind the bar to pour a couple of drinks for our guest. I called into the kitchen. “Dale, can you whip up a batch of waffle fries.”
It wasn’t anything fancy, but it helped to take the edge off. I didn’t need any drunks in the place.
Three drinks on a tray, I approached the table. A light scent of cologne tickled my nose, and I knew it wasn’t Eric. Since the baby was born, he’d stopped wearing any, so it had to be the VIP. It was intoxicating, like a spicy pepper mixed with cinnamon.
I set down his two drinks and handed Eric a tall, frosted glass. “It’s a Coke.”