Chapter Two #4
That was an interesting comment. Who knew a sign could be the cause of so much angst—which it clearly was.
Amelia was intrigued. And also, the bartender seemed jittery, and Amelia needed to fix that.
She leaned in closer and dropped her voice conspiratorially.
“Wait a minute. Are you saying that the best Guinness in Ireland is in fact, not served here in this bar?” She flashed a grin to show that she wasn’t being serious, despite her dramatic delivery.
It worked. The bartender seemed to relax a fraction. “I mean, I could potentially make you the best Guinness in Ireland. Anything is possible. But it’s highly improbable based on recent evidence.” She bit down on her bottom lip, probably a nervous thing. But it was also extremely sexy.
Amelia tried to remain focussed on the conversation rather than the lip—but damn. “So, you’re false advertising?”
The bartender enthusiastically pointed at her. “See, that’s what I said. Those very words.”
“Oh? So, we’ve got a whole village scandal on our hands here and you’re telling me that you’re not the one to blame? How convenient.” This was fun.
“It’s true. I’m completely innocent in all this.
I’m basically opposed to the entire thing.
” The bartender leaned her elbows on her side of the bar in a move that brought her even closer to Amelia.
Maybe she was enjoying their exchange too, relaxing into it.
She also smelled of something sweet and exotic which only entranced Amelia more.
Amelia kept playing along. “I see I came at the right time then. Who needs to pay for this injustice? Somebody has to.”
“Ah. Well, I can’t tell you that either. I would never sink either one of my best friends slash fellow owners of this bar. I just wouldn’t.” She playfully covered her mouth with her hand. “Oops.”
Amelia laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m an excellent secret keeper. Your best friends will never know that you blabbed on them at the very first opportunity.”
“I suppose I did, didn’t I?” The bartender grinned. “Well, they did leave me to deal with that silly sign. Fair’s fair.”
“That’s true. They deserve everything they get.” Amelia smiled and scanned the drinks behind the bar. “So, the crux of this whole matter is that you don’t recommend the Guinness then?”
The bartender lifted a shoulder. “Like I said, I could pour you an excellent Guinness.”
“Or?”
“Or it could be terrible. Adequate is another possibility. The joy is in the mystery, you see.”
“Do these kinds of sales pitches usually work on your customers?”
The bartender grimaced. “To be honest, you’re the first one I’ve tried it on. They usually keep me stashed away in the back.”
“That seems like a shame to me,” Amelia said. “I’m glad I chose today to visit seeing as you are evidently gracing the front of house with your presence.”
“Me too.” The bartender’s eyes widened slightly like she had surprised herself by admitting that, but Amelia was very glad that she had. They smiled at each other. It was only for a moment, but it was a nice one. Amelia was a fan of little moments, call her a romantic.
“I’m going to chance it,” Amelia said. “The Guinness.”
“Alright. But don’t say you weren’t warned.” The bartender pushed herself up off the counter.
Amelia felt like cancelling the order immediately and dragging her back down again so that she could stare dreamily into her brown eyes and make up more silly village scandals together. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said instead. The dragging would probably be a tad full-on from a mere stranger.
The bartender chuckled as she pulled a shiny glass down from the shelf above her head. “You’re not from around here.” It was a statement rather than a question.
“How did you guess?” Amelia asked.
The bartender took her time positioning the glass at an angle underneath the nozzle of the tap, concentration etched all over her face. “Oh, I don’t know. The American accent might be a slight giveaway.”
Amelia gasped playfully. “You noticed that?”
Another smile, but the bartender still didn’t take her eyes off the glass.
“I don’t like to brag, but I have a keen ear for accents.
” She pulled the handle all the way down and the liquid started to run down the inside of the glass.
Then she stopped and released the handle when it was about three-quarters full.
She set the glass on the polished countertop.
“I’m supposed to let it settle before I fill it right up. It’s a whole thing.”
Amelia nodded. It wasn’t like she was in a rush. She hoped that their conversation would carry on beyond her drink being served.
“So,” the bartender said, studying Amelia with what looked like genuine interest. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”
“Mostly business, sadly,” Amelia replied. “It’s a place I wish I could spend more time enjoying.”
“There’s no shortage of places to see, that’s for sure.
” The bartender bent down to study Amelia’s drink, then brought the glass back to the tap and started to fill it very slowly to the top—not much faster than a trickle.
When it was full, she placed it on a disposable black bar mat and carefully slid it over to Amelia.
“It looks exactly like the picture on the sign,” Amelia said.
“Hmm, maybe. But the truth is in the taste,” the bartender said, her face dubious. She held out a hand indicating for Amelia to take a sip.
She did. Okay, truth be told, Amelia wasn’t a massive beer drinker, so she didn’t know how to give a proper critique. But the Guinness tasted smooth and refreshing, so that had to be good, right? “I think you lied to me the first time. This is great.”
The bartender beamed. “It is?”
“Absolutely. And I’ve never tried one before so it could be the best one in Ireland for all I know. You worried for nothing.” Amelia took another sip to prove her point.
“I’ve been known to do that sometimes. The worrying,” the bartender said. “Thanks for the confidence boost. I’m Imogen by the way.”
Amelia had been pondering how she could slip that question into their conversation.
Imogen had saved her the trouble. “It’s great to meet you, Imogen.
I’m…Amy,” she said after a beat. Not a lie—both her mom and sister called her Amy.
Granted, no one else did. But she didn’t want to be Amelia Whitlock in this moment. Just being Amy was fine.
Imogen smiled. “A pleasure.” She leaned her elbows on the counter again and Amelia felt like doing a dance to celebrate her return to the same proximity. She didn’t of course. She had some chill.
“Do you not find it really dark in here, Amy?” Imogen asked.
It seemed like an odd question, but come to think of it, it was dark. “Now that you mention it, yes I do.”
Imogen grinned at her. “We do have mood lighting, but I’d say it must be pretty dim with those sunglasses on.”
“Ah.” Her disguise. Amelia touched them. “I forgot about them.” And now she was going to look silly if she didn’t take them off.