‘Or?’
‘Or, has it put you in the mood for more cocktails?’ He flashed her a hopeful smile. ‘I can probably even rustle up a place that does beer.’
‘It wouldn’t be called The Bar Beneath by any chance?’
He tapped her lightly on the end of her cute nose. ‘Funny, but no. I was thinking somewhere you hadn’t been. Another one to cross off on your top one hundred places to visit in Manchester list.’
‘Top one hundred?’
He shrugged. ‘Of course. You didn’t think I was going to fob you off with ten, did you?’
‘You must really want help with this website,’ she muttered as they made their way out of the theatre.
He turned to her. ‘You think that’s all this is about?’
‘What else?’
I can’t stop thinking about you. She’d run a mile if he phrased it like that. Yet when they exited into the balmy Manchester evening, he found he couldn’t simply make a joke of it, so he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. ‘I enjoy being with you.’
He watched her throat move as she swallowed. ‘You do?’
He nodded, wondering what was going on behind those huge blue eyes. The longer he stared into them, the longer he took to reply, and the more charged the air around them became, until it felt as if electric sparks were pinging between his hands and her skin. She must have felt it too, because a shutter fell across her face and Luke silently cursed himself. Keep it light, you muppet. ‘I do,’ he repeated, his voice sounding gravelly. ‘I can truly say this is the most fun I’ve ever had with a Smurf.’
It was exactly what she needed, because the tension left her face and she laughed. ‘Then you obviously haven’t met the right Smurfs.’
‘Clearly, but in the absence of any of your more entertaining blue cousins, I’m going to have to make do with you. So what is it to be – home, or cocktails?’
She pursed her lips, and he tried like hell not to look at them too closely. Not to think about how they might feel beneath his, or trailing across his skin…
‘I’d hate to let down my Smurf family.’
He shoved his carnal thoughts aside and mentally high fived at her choice. ‘Of course you would, so cocktails it is, yes?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Maybe we should make that cocktail, singular, because I do have to work tomorrow.’
‘Okay then, I know just the place.’
Linking arms with her, he began to walk towards a Latin bar he knew. He told himself he’d chosen it because it wasn’t far, though in truth there were several other bars also in short walking distance. But they didn’t have the option of a dance floor.
He’d always been a hopeful kind of guy.
Considering it was a Wednesday night the place was pretty busy – busier, he’d like to bet, than his own. There was no wait at the bar though, and he ordered for both of them.
She didn’t look too impressed. ‘A Manchester bee cocktail?’
‘Sure, when in Manchester.’
‘What does it have in it that I have to worry about?’
‘Recipes vary but in this one I think there’s honey, lemon juice and a garnish of orange peel. Oh and gin and champagne.’
She groaned, but didn’t protest. ‘Why the bee?’
‘It’s the symbol of Manchester. Represents how much it was a hive of activity in the Industrial Revolution. Basically, Mancunians are all worker bees. We buzz around, doing lots of stuff for little reward.’
‘You’re a boss now,’ she argued as they sat down. ‘You’re like the queen bee, getting your staff to buzz around for you.’
‘Yeah, maybe. Though there’s not enough buzzing.’ He wondered if Bill and Mateo were managing even a flap of their wings tonight. It hadn’t mattered before; the place had earned enough to keep them all happy. But now he had a huge financial hole to fill.
‘Everything okay?’
Mia’s concerned voice brought his shitty train of thoughts to a welcome stop. ‘Sorry, started to think about work.’ He raised his glass. ‘Here’s to our second non-date. And the next ninety-eight to come.’ She laughed, shaking her head at him, and once again he was struck by how natural she was, how unaffected. ‘So Mia Abbott, you dissected my dating history, I reckon it’s only fair I get to ask about yours. Who was the last guy you dated?’ He paused, remembering the conversation they’d had at the coffee shop. ‘And did he have anything to do with your reluctance to give me your number?’
She stared down at her cocktail. ‘There isn’t enough alcohol in here for that conversation.’
Luke felt a vicious flare of anger and he had to take a deep breath before he could trust his voice. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘No.’ She glanced over at him and his thoughts must have been mirrored on his face because she immediately placed a hand over his and squeezed. ‘Thank you, but no, he didn’t, at least not physically. You can call off the dogs.’
Some of the tension left his body. ‘Will you tell me what happened?’
She sighed, then took another sip of the cocktail before speaking again. ‘I’ve got a shitty track record when it comes to choosing men. The last one, Pete, started off sweet, then became possessive. When I finished things he kept phoning and bombarding me with messages, begging me to reconsider. I blocked him, but he just got another phone and started again. In the end I had to get a new number.’ She caught his eye, her expression apologetic. ‘Only my parents, sister and two closest friends know the new number. I didn’t want to risk anyone else giving it to him.’
‘And you don’t want to risk it happening again,’ he finished for her.
‘No.’ She exhaled in frustration. ‘It sounds awful, I know. I mean, I’m basically accusing you of being a psycho and I’d be pissed if someone did the same to me.’
‘Hey, I’m not angry. At least not with you,’ he qualified, his stomach churning at the thought of Pete and how much emotional hurt he’d caused her. ‘I need to earn your trust before I earn your number, I respect that.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, where’s the fun in communication that uses an unlimited number of words?’ She smiled and he gauged she looked relaxed enough to be asked another personal question. ‘You said you had a shitty track record. How come you keep choosing the duffers?’
‘Good question.’ She shrugged. ‘I think maybe it goes back to school. I was always the geek – you know, the weird one who enjoyed maths and raced to be first to computer lessons so she could grab the best terminal.’
He laughed. ‘Nope, don’t remember coming across a geek before. Probably because I was the one who bunked off maths and was still snogging Lusty Linda round the back of the bike sheds when the computer class was due to start.’ They shared a smile and he couldn’t explain how good it felt to make her laugh, to banter with her like this. ‘But what does being a geek have to do with choosing duff men? I thought it would make you better at picking, like maybe you’d have an algorithm for it. If he sits at the back of class, reject. If he holds the door open for you, go to next question.’