Page 4 of Unmasking Mr. Crown

“If anyone can do it, you can. Pop knows plenty of wealthy folks. You just need one who’s willing to cut you a check. And I have some money to throw at the cause. Not a ton, but I can help. And you’ll have to reign in your personal spending.”

“I know. No more expensive boots.”

“Exactly. Now go have that drink. Maybe two, now that you’ve birthed this brilliant idea.”

Call it luck or kismet or whatever, a couple of barstools stood vacant when Natalie emerged from the restroom. She wasted no time securing one, along with the bartender's attention. He answered with a nod of his bald head. Natalie smiled in response and pulled her phone back out. She texted an old flatmate and a couple of her former colleagues, hoping to keep the night from being a total bust. All responded immediately with similar sentiments: Can’t make it. Thinking of you. Best of luck. Safe travels tomorrow.

“And for you, miss?” The bartender slapped a fresh cocktail napkin on the bar in front of her.

"Vodka martini, please. Very dry, Eddie.”

The man nodded again as he reached for a cocktail shaker. Promptly focused on the collection of bottles on the wall behind the bar, Natalie’s new idea opened a thousand and one browser tabs in her event-planning brain.

"Actually, can you make that two?" An American man judging by his accent, took the barstool beside her. "With two olives, please, unless you have a jalapeno pepper back there."

Natalie remained vigil on the bottles. Engaging in polite chit-chat with a stranger was not on her to-do list. Thankfully, Eddie was quick with her drink. Natalie took a sip, then placed it precisely in the center of the cocktail napkin, exhaling with happy approval.

"I’ll get this first round,” the voice beside her said, pulling his wallet from his hip pocket.

This first round? As in he’s anticipating a second round? Bold, but okay, random dude. You do you, sir.

"Thanks,” she said. More of a mutter, but she hoped it conveyed a clear message. Generosity aside, she simply wasn’t interested in striking up a conversation with him.

Natalie kept her gaze straight forward, eager to disappear inside the frosty glass of Grey Goose and vermouth. From her peripheral, she spied him removing an object from his pants pocket. A soft click hit the bar. Something metallic. She glanced sideways and found a vintage silver pocket stopwatch ticking away.

"Been a while since we've seen that thing," the bartender said with a grin.

"That's because there hasn't been a reason for it until now," the man replied.

Her interest piqued. While not a regular customer, she dropped in enough times to know the bartender's name, that he was also the owner, and had no problem personally tossing drunk and disorderly patrons from his establishment. She'd never seen the gentleman beside her. Not that she'd taken a real good look at him—but she'd have definitely remembered his voice and his slow southern drawl. A refreshing sound but painfully out of place in London.

"How long you givin' it?" Eddie asked.

"This one might take a little while. Not sure I'll be setting any records.”

"Never know what the cosmos has in store for us, do we? I have a feeling tonight might be the exact opposite.” Eddie winked.

Their conversation ended. Eddie pried open cardboard wine boxes with a pair of utility scissors. The man beside her nursed his martini. As discreetly as possible, she eyed the stopwatch. Natalie knew his game. His methods were unconventional, creative, and snarky. A trifecta of sorts. She couldn't help but play along. She was single. It was her last night. She’d never see him again. Why not have a little fun?

She pulled her cell phone from her purse, typed a quick text, then placed it face up on the bar. Right on cue it rang.

"Hey," she answered the call, louder than normal. "Thought you might want to know tonight’s gimmick. What? Oh, it's a stopwatch. What's with men today? My guess is that he's trying to get me to ask him about it. No, I'm not gonna ask him. My plan is to sit here and finish the drink he bought me while he sweats it out. I'm sure he's used this trick hundreds of times. Even the bartender knows it."

Eddie stopped slicing and looked up, his mouth agape.

"Looks like she had your number from the get-go," he finally said, his normally gruff voice now sing-songy.

"Oh, I don't mind, as long as I leave here with hers.” He raised his glass to Eddie.

Ha! As if!

She shoved her phone back in her purse, then turned toward him, only to lose her breath half a second later. A rugged-handsome face. Eyes the color of an endless Texas sky. A strong jaw, dotted with dark stubble that matched his thick hair. Hair just begging for her fingers.

Oh, man. You are a handsome one. And those blue eyes? Damn. My greatest weakness.

Rowdy cheers erupted from the direction of the darts room, breaking her stare.

“Thanks for the drink, but I’m working on a clock of my own tonight.” Natalie pushed the stopwatch back in his direction, exchanging a look with Eddie.