And likely blown any chance of shifting their relationship to more-than-friends at some point in the future.
Chapter Eighteen
Mia looked over at Stan. He wore what she was starting to realise was his stubborn expression; narrowed eyes, jutting chin. It was Saturday night and she’d spent the last ten minutes trying to persuade him to come to the bar with her again.
‘Give me one good reason why you want to turn down the offer of a free beer with a charming companion and instead spend the night on your own, nursing a Horlicks?’
He humphed. ‘I’m not that bloody old yet.’
‘You must be, or you’d join me in the bar.’
He waved his hand at her. ‘It’s too noisy for me, that place.’
‘Thought you said you weren’t old. That’s a really old person’s excuse.’ She received a baleful glare.
‘Why do you need a wingman anyway? Thought you and the Chipmunk were friends.’
‘We are.’ It’s just the Chipmunk – God, Luke would die of laughter if he knew they were calling him that – the man had also told her he’d ended things with his regular hook-up because he wanted to … what? Hook up with her instead? Date her for real? Yet how could it be the latter if he was also still seeing some woman called Vicky?
And wow, seeing that text had really hurt. Yet it shouldn’t have done, because she wasn’t supposed to want anything more from him.
Her heart also shouldn’t have leapt at the message he’d posted earlier.
If U go to bar
* * *
2night
* * *
Me = v happy
She was a basket case. So keen to see him, yet so terrified about how little effort it would take for him to persuade her into doing something she really shouldn’t. A flirty suggestion, that smoulder in his eye, a flash of his wicked smile. Any combination and she could find herself waiting for him after the bar had closed.
Hence she’d taken to pushing poor Stan out of his flat, against his will.
The man took one look at her face and sighed. ‘I’ll get my wallet.’
Guilt pricked. ‘You don’t have to, you really don’t.’ But because she needed him to, she added, ‘If you do come, I’m paying.’
‘No bloody way.’ Stan loped off to fetch his wallet and key from the sideboard. ‘Can’t have you buying me drinks twice in a row. People round here will talk.’ He pointed for her to lead the way. ‘Besides, don’t want that man of yours becoming jealous. Reckon he might just have the edge over me if it came to fisticuffs. Him being a bit younger.’
‘Maybe a tiny bit bigger, too? And slightly fitter?’ Feeling a rush of affection for her sometimes curmudgeonly, yet also utterly loveable, neighbour, Mia wrapped an arm around his ample waist. ‘Luke’s not my man, Stan, he’s my friend. Don’t fret though, if it comes to a fight, I’ll be in your corner.’
He huffed. ‘Lot of good a damp sponge will do me.’ But his arm slipped around her, too, and when he squeezed her waist, emotion balled in her throat. She missed her dad something fierce, but in Stan she was starting to realise she had a substitute.
The place was exactly how Stan had said it would be; humming with noise. Something he took great glee in telling her. ‘How’s anyone supposed to have a conversation in here?’ His gaze swung towards all the women lined up at the bar, bodies encased in tight dresses, hair perfectly styled, all fighting to get Luke’s attention. ‘Suppose most aren’t here for a chat, mind.’
‘No.’ Glancing down at her leggings and converse trainers, she pushed down the unhelpful stirrings of jealousy. What had Luke told her? I like what I see. ‘Let’s find a seat somewhere quieter.’
But just as she was about to turn, Luke glanced up. The bloom of pleasure that crossed his face when he saw her, the beaming smile he aimed her way, sent her heart cartwheeling.
It also sent Stan into a fit of unlikely laughter. ‘That bloke isn’t friends with you,’ he rasped. ‘He wants to get in your knickers.’
‘Keep your voice down.’ As Luke continued to smile in their direction, Mia hoped to God he couldn’t lip read.
‘Just saying it as I see it.’
Giving Luke a little wave – the gesture felt ridiculously coy, yet somehow she couldn’t stop grinning – Mia set off towards the tables outside, where the noise was at a more reasonable level for a sixty-seven-year-old.
‘If we’re just saying things how we see them,’ she said as Stan levered himself into a seat, ‘what about you and Naomi? In your own eloquent words, do you want to get into her knickers?’
Stan spluttered, then started to cough so loud he began to wheeze. ‘Good God, girl. Where on earth did that come from?’
‘Observation.’ She leant on the table, eyes on Stan to watch his reaction. ‘You’re both dancing around each other like a pair of shy peacocks. No wait, I should say a shy peacock and a shy peahen. I don’t know what the collective noun is.’
‘Peafowl.’ As soon as he’d said it, Stan stilled, his expression almost comically shocked. ‘Wait, you’re saying she’s interested?’
Mia rolled her eyes. ‘Of course she is, dummy. Why else does she get me to tell you the custard donuts are in?’
‘Because she needs to sell them?’
Mia started to laugh. ‘Okay, that’s true, but the reason she buys them in the first place, you dozy fool, is because she wants you to go into the shop. She wants to see you.’ Standing back up, Mia smiled at him. ‘Now while you think on that, I’ll get the first round in.’
Her pulse began to race as she turned to walk into the bar, yet just as she was about to step inside, Luke’s large frame blocked her way.
‘Hey.’
The sexy low tone made her heart leap in her chest. ‘Oh, hi. I was just heading in to get some drinks.’
His smile was lazy, dimples winking at her. ‘I’ve come to find out what you want.’
‘Wow, personal service, huh? Is that all part of Sandy’s drive to get more customers through the door?’
He laughed softly. ‘No Mia, it’s part of my drive to take care of my favourite customer.’
‘Favourite.’ Her belly fluttered. ‘Stan will be pleased.’
Amused green eyes bored into hers. ‘Stan’s a good bloke, a good customer, but you know he’s not my favourite.’ Luke leant forward, the touch of his lips a gentle brush against her ear. ‘For the avoidance of doubt: you, Mia Abbott, are my favourite customer.’
Butterflies were no longer fluttering in her belly, they were having a dance, and doing it so vigorously they must have taken all her breath because she found she could hardly talk. ‘I…’ She swallowed a few times, trying to find her balance. ‘I’m honoured. Does that qualify me for anything? Like a discount, or…’ she trailed off at the dart of heat in his eyes.
‘Or?’ His gaze dipped to her mouth, and her lips tingled in anticipation.
He’s not going to kiss you here.