“Yeah. Maybe later. The music up there is too loud. I’d like to chat with you first.” He nodded toward the seat next to her. “Sit for me, love.”
Almost before she registered the words, her body obeyed, sinking back into the seat like she’d been trained for it.
“What do you drink? Champagne or cocktails?”
She sat up straight with her knees pressed together. “Just an orange juice, please. Hangovers and early starts are a bad combination.”
He tilted his chin up, catching the eye of a young hotel staff member who trotted over with a pen tucked behind her ponytail and wide, eager eyes.
“What can I get you, sir?” she chirped, her voice flirtatious.
“It’s Jamie,” he replied, flashing her a wink without missing a beat.
“Oh, yeah, sorry, sir... I mean, Jamie. What can I get you?” Her neck turned a shade of pink.
“An orange juice, and the best liquor you’ve got,” he said, giving her a playful look.
“You got it! That’s the one thing we’ll never run out of.” She laughed, offering a grin like they were sharing some unspoken joke.
Shannon’s pulse raced.
Jamie dropped into the armchair opposite her, his eyes following the waitress as she scurried off. Shannon fidgeted in her chair, shoving a hand into her tight jeans pocket.
“Let me get this round,” she muttered, pulling out a crumpled mess of notes.
She flattened the fivers, then reached back into her pocket for a few golden coins. Internally, she counted her stash, her lips moving with each number.
After a moment of mental math, she stacked the coins on top of the notes.
“That should cover it. Twenty-four pounds and a bit more.” Her tongue peeked out as she set the last coin on the heap, her head bobbing to her internal rhythm.
Jamie cleared his throat, a thick growl that made her belly flip. She looked up, drawn in by his amber eyes, which were locked on her tongue with a magnetic intensity.
The young waitress returned, setting their drinks down on the glass table. Shannon opened her mouth, about to call the girl back to pay, but Jamie beat her to it.
“It’s okay. I’ve got a tab running,” he said, his voice casual but firm. “Put your money away, love.”
“I said I’d get this round,” she insisted.
Jamie sighed, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Look, this is my hotel. My staff has a tab running for me. My guests don’t pay.”
She sat back, her gaze dropping to the small stack of cash on the table. “You own this place?”
He swirled the whiskey in his tumbler before taking a slow sip. “My brother and I own it, actually.”
Her breath caught, and her spine snapped ramrod straight, his admission punching her in the gut. The guy had more money than she thought.
He owned the damn hotel they were sitting in.
No wonder everyone looked at him like he was the boss—becausehewas. She shut her eyes for a moment, letting the dread wash over her.
Fuck. What if he’s an entitled prick under all that charm?
Then again, owning a hotel didn’t mean he was super rich... right? He could be neck-deep in debt for all she knew.
Shannon lifted the tall glass of juice with one hand and slid the cash across the table with the other. “Well, there you go. Use that to pay your tab.”
“Sure, no problem. Thanks.” He raised his tumbler in a mock toast. “Cheers, love, thanks for the drink.”
