“Work. What about you?”
“Same.”
“What are you drinking?”
“Whiskey.” Judging by the aroma of the drink, it’s top shelf. Note to self: the man is classy AF and drinks like it, too.
“Would you like another?” he asks, glancing at my empty glass of wine.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I joke, a smile on my face.
“Uh… that’d be a no,” he answers, a horrified look on his face.
I laugh under my breath. He’s quite the gentleman. I’d better go easy on him. “Another, please,” I say to the bartender.
“You can put it on my tab,” he tells me.
“That’s not necessary,” I tell him, looking at the bartender, who’s looking between us.
“I insist. But, do what you like,” he says.
Good to know he’s not some old school Romeo that expects to pay for my drink and then get something in return. I mull it over, then nod, acquiescing.
“What do you do for work?” he asks.
“I run my own company.”
“So you’re the boss lady.”
I give him a wolfish smile. “I am.”
“So, boss lady, what kind of company do you run?”
“How much time do you have?” I tease.
“As much as you need,” he says, a sparkle in his eye.
“To keep it simple, I start businesses and sell them.”
“So, startups?”
“Yes.”
“How many have you created?”
“I’m on my sixteenth,” I tell him, my whole face lighting up. I really enjoy what I do.
“Impressive.”
I hum my reply and take a sip of my wine. “And what about you? What work brings you to Pittsburgh?”
“Baseball,” he says, nonchalantly.
He’s too mature to be a player, I would think. “Like a?—”
“Yo, Coach!” a twenty-something male hollers, exiting the elevator. “You want in?”
I just smile at Gabe. He’s a coach.
