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“I am, although it has been a few hours since I ate anything. I should probably think about getting dinner.”
“Do that: go get some food. I’ll call again tomorrow, okay? And you can call me any time you like. Take care of yourself. Bye for now!”
“Bye, Grace!”
We wave at each other, then I end the call.
* * *
I head downstairs and into the restaurant, but there’s no one there. I try the reception desk, but it too is unattended. Puzzled, I check the snug, the little bar area I remember from my dream. It’s empty save for Jamie, who’s behind the bar and on a laptop. Apparently, being on a laptop is the norm for him. He doesn’t immediately look up.
“Er, excuse me? Jamie?”
“Give me a minute.”
He finishes what he’s doing, tapping away at his keyboard. Only after a long—and I, at least, feel awkward—silence does he give me his attention.
“Oh, Emily. Hi. How can I help?”
His hair is sticking up in different directions, as though he’s been unconsciously rubbing his hands through it while working on his computer. Given he drove to pick Ally and me up earlier, and was also good enough to bring us tea, I decide not to reprimand him for his less-than-stellar customer service.
“I was hoping to get some dinner, but there’s no one in the restaurant.”
“Oh, aye, the restaurant is closed on Tuesdays, and on Mondays too. It’s open for dinner Wednesday through to Sunday, and at the weekend, we also do lunch.”
With the briefest smile and a nod, he looks back down at his screen.
“So . . . I can’t get any food, then?”
He glances up, seemingly surprised to see I’m still here. “Well, I can get you . . . a pack of crisps? Nuts? It’s mainly drinks we do in the snug, to be honest.”
Not only is Jamie as abrupt as Ally, he’s also socially awkward. It’s not a great trait for someone who works in the hospitality industry, but to my surprise, instead of finding it irritating, I find it amusing.
When I don’t answer straight away, he goes back to his laptop.
“What is it you’re doing?” I ask.
He hits a few buttons before replying. “Just wasting my life away, as Ally likes to say.”
“Uh-huh.”
That was a pretty evasive answer. I wonder about pressing him further, but just then, my stomach grumbles. I need food, and it’s time to try somewhere else.
“See you later.”
He barely even notices me leaving. I head out of the snug, planning to go out into the town. Surely somewhere is serving food. As I turn towards the front door, though, I walk straight into a solid wall—no, not a solid wall, just Ally McIntyre’s torso. I stagger back in surprise.
Ally seems startled too, then his eyes sweep over me. There’s no subtlety about it, which I should find offensive, but . . . I don’t. Apparently, I’m quite happy to be ogled by him.
After the call with Grace, I changed into a light-green V-neck tea dress, which I teamed with a tan belt, boots, and a denim jacket. The dress is on the short side, but as I’m petite, I think I get away with it.
“That dress . . . it looks fantastic on you.”
At first, I’m a little taken aback, but then inwardly, I smile. I like the way he phrased that—not that my appearance is enhanced by the dress, but rather the other way around. The dress looks good for being on me.
“Oh, sorry, are you all right?” He raises his gaze, remembering where my face is and that we collided with each other.
“I’m fine. It’s me who should apologise: I should have been watching where I was going. I was just heading out. Where would you recommend going for dinner? I’d have asked Jamie, but he seemed preoccupied.”
