‘Yes, yes, I get the idea. And in this marvellous new partnership you’re describing, what have you got me signed up to do in return?’
He almost couldn’t look at her, his smile decidedly sheepish. ‘Help me with a website for the bar?’
Her brows flew to her green-tinted hairline. ‘Seriously? You’re a half-assed travel guide, showing me stuff I could basically find on my own anyway. And in return, I spend my free time making you a website, which means I won’t actually be able to do any of the stuff you’ve just mentioned?’
Ouch, when she said it like that, he felt like a git. Before he could tell her to forget it though, her eyes had narrowed on his.
‘Is this why you asked to meet me? Why you put all those messages in the window? To get a free website?’
‘Whoa. No, of course not.’ The sting of her words ricocheted through him but it was hard to be offended when her eyes were telling him she was hurt. ‘I asked for your number the first time we met, remember? I wanted to get to know you well before I was told you made websites. And I never said I expected it done for free.’ He rubbed a hand down his face, aware if he didn’t pass this test, the tentative friendship was over before it had started. ‘Truth is, you fascinated me from day one. I thought we had a connection, but you didn’t seem keen to explore it, so I told myself that was that. But then I saw you in the window opposite and I figured maybe I could persuade you to change your mind, so I started the messages.’ He tried to gauge what she was thinking, and failed. ‘The website is a separate thing, and you don’t have to help. Mateo mentioned you developed them for a living, so we thought we could tap into your brain for some ideas of where to start.’
‘We?’
‘I’ve put Sandy in charge of sorting things out. Social media, websites.’ He shot her a wry smile. ‘Thanks to Bill, who used to own the place, I know the best local brewery, how to mix a cocktail, and where to get cheap but decent-looking cutlery. Anything outside that, I’m lost.’
‘You said you’d only just taken over the bar from him?’
‘Yeah, a few months.’ He shrugged, like it was no big deal. ‘Still learning the ropes.’
She sighed heavily. ‘Damn, I’m sorry.’ His stomach plummeted and she must have read his expression because she held up a hand and started to laugh. ‘No, no, I’m sorry I was a bitch before, about the website. I jumped to an assumption, which wasn’t cool.’ She bit into her lip. ‘I guess I’m trying to work out why you, with all those charms we mentioned, want to get to know me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m bloody awesome, but not to someone like you.’
‘What do you mean, like me?’
‘Come on, I’ve seen some of the women you’ve … for the sake of politeness, let’s call it dated. None of them look anything like me.’
He couldn’t disagree. What Mia didn’t know was that he’d deliberately gone for the obvious, the carefully made-up women in tight dresses who flirted, because what they wanted had matched what he’d been looking for. Easy, uncomplicated, undemanding.
Then he’d met Mia. And now he was questioning what he really wanted. ‘Tastes change. They mature.’ Smiling into her eyes, he added, ‘Now I’m into bloody awesome. So Mia … what’s your surname?’
‘Abbott.’
He rolled it round his head. ‘Nice. Okay then, bloody awesome Mia Abbott.’ He flashed a grin. ‘What about this website?’
Laughing, she scrunched up her serviette and threw it at him. ‘I’ll talk to you about a website once you’ve taken me somewhere in Manchester I wouldn’t have gone to by myself.’
‘Deal.’ He winced. ‘Though my hours do suck, so it can’t always be at the weekend.’
‘That’s okay, my hours are my own.’
Relieved, he grinned. ‘Do I get your phone number now?’
Her gaze darted behind him and when it returned her eyes had lost some of their amusement. ‘For reasons I don’t want to go into, the only people who have my number are my two best friends and my family. I’d rather keep it that way.’
He didn’t like the flicker of unease he saw but he wasn’t about to upset things, so he nodded. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any point in me giving you mine?’
She shook her head, smiling sadly. ‘Thanks, but I won’t phone it, because if I did—’
‘I’d have your number,’ he finished for her. ‘Okay, no problem. Keep an eye on my window then.’
‘Oh, I will.’
‘And I guess if we’re doing this, we need to invest in some flip-chart paper. A4 doesn’t give much scope.’
‘That sounds like cheating, but okay, I’ll consider whether the investment is worth the reward.’
He detected the beginnings of a smirk, and though she quickly schooled her face into a bland smile, it didn’t hide the mischief in her eyes.
Chapter Twelve
Mia wasn’t sure when to expect Luke’s first message, or even if there would be one. He’d seemed keen yesterday, but there was every chance he’d mulled it over and decided he didn’t need to be friends with someone who wouldn’t even give him her mobile number. Oh, she’d been tempted, so, so tempted. But Pete had seemed like a good guy, then turned out not to be. In a different way, so had Danny et al. before him, so she couldn’t rely on her judgement when it came to sussing out the opposite sex.
All of which she was trying to explain to her mum the next morning, while also trying not to fixate on the window opposite.
‘That Pete was a vile, nasty man.’ Her mum was on a roll again. ‘I told you he wasn’t good enough for you right from the start, didn’t I?’
She hadn’t, though she had said he was a bit quiet and she didn’t know what to say to him, which was quite something coming from the world’s most chatty woman.
‘Well just in case Luke turns out to be another Pete, I don’t want to give away my number yet. We’re leaving messages on our windows instead.’
‘Like semaphore?’
Mia had an image of her and Luke flailing flags around wildly in the window and started to laugh. ‘We’re not waving our arms about, Mum. We’re putting notes in the window.’
‘But how can that work? Putting what you want to say on a scrap of paper?’
Yep, it would never work for her mum, that’s for sure. ‘We’ll have to be creative. At least this way, if he turns out to be a nutter, I only have to close my blinds to shut him up. Not buy another new phone.’
‘I suppose.’ She didn’t sound sure. ‘But if this man with his muscles and his messages is a nutter, he can work out where you live.’
Note to self, never mention the words ‘nutter’ and ‘man’ in the same sentence when talking to Mum. ‘The way the flats were built, he’d have to get the floor plans to know exactly which was mine. Besides, he’s lived here for years Mum, he owns the bar. He’s not going to turn into a psychopath overnight.’ It’s just that he might, just might, turn into another Pete. ‘And anyway, how do you know he has muscles?’