‘Huh? Right, yes, um, yep, that’s fine.’Brain cells, why have you deserted me?
Amusement shone in his eyes, but it was mixed with something else. The dark-edged look of desire on his face sent a shiver down my spine. I cleared my throat, folding my arms over my chest.
‘You need a loan for Cora’s?’ I stated.
His eyes hardened as he scrutinised me for a minute. I held my breath, only releasing it when he turned back to the mirror, pulling at the material with a harsh frown. My eyes snagged on the exposed bit of skin near his collarbone. Dark ink swirled on his chest in a pattern I couldn’t make out. He readjusted the shirt, blocking my view of the rest of his tattoo.
His jaw worked as he stared back at his reflection.
When he said nothing, I leaned my shoulder against the wall. ‘I hate to point out the glaringly obvious, but you are aware that your brother is the most famous footballer in the world. He’s richer than God. Why not ask him for the money?’
I’m surprised his jaw didn’t shatter with how hard he clenched. He looked into the mirror, not meeting my gaze.
‘You think he’d say no?’ I probed, enjoying pushing his buttons more than I should.
He blew out a sharp breath. ‘Of course, he wouldn’t fucking say no. He’d grab his phone and send me more money than I needed without a second thought.’ His tone suggested that instead of that being most people’s dream come true, it was a black cloud that threatened to break apart over his head.
Facing away from the mirror, he shoved his hands in the pants pockets, keeping his eyes cast to the floor. The space separating us suddenly felt too wide.
‘Why don’t you want to ask him for help?’
A hand reached up to scratch his beard before it fell to hisside, and he lifted his head slowly to meet my questioning gaze. ‘The same reason you agreed to the bet.’
In our own unique ways, George and I feared the same thing. Neither wanted to admit that what we’d dedicated our entire lives to wasn’t working anymore. For him, it was his career, business, and dedication to keeping his mother’s memory alive.
For me… the fear that sparked in my veins every time I got close to someone, keeping me pulling away from people even when their intentions were good, was almost as potent as the fear of failing my best friend, of admitting that she was right.
My fingers dug into my arm. I forced a smile to my face. ‘You should get the suit.’
He peered down at himself, looking as uncomfortable as I felt. When our eyes connected, that cinch squeezing my lungs tightened. It nearly cut off all the oxygen to my brain when he stepped forward, close enough that I needed to tilt my head back to keep eye contact with him.
‘You think I can charm a room full of pricks to give me a shit ton of money?’ He smirked.
The scent of earth and masculinity filled my nose, making my fingers itch to reach out and touch him. Clenching my fist tight, I let my eyes roam over every inch of him, making a show of perusing him carefully. His brow arched in question. ‘I mean, I’d steer clear of calling them pricks. But yeah, the suit’s good.’
I watched his throat bob as he swallowed. His eyes dipped down to my lips. Unconsciously, my tongue darted out to wet my own. Baby blues clocked the movement, and that heady mixture of desire and restrained need swirled between us. ‘Good call,’ he rasped.
‘You gonna buy anything or what?’ A sharp Essex accent sounded behind us. The disinterested girl behind the counterhad a hand on her hip, brow raised impatiently. Nothing like a stroppy teenager to spoil the mood.
‘It’s definitelythe most unusual way I’ve spent my lunch break.’ George held a black garment bag over his arm, having settled on the black suit I picked out. His other hand came to rest on my lower back as we walked out of the thrift store and didn’t drop as we walked back to the clinic. My feet somehow kept finding themselves inching closer to him. Shoulders brushing.
He chuckled. ‘What would you usually do?’
‘Eat instant noodles at my desk as I read my book.’
His steps faltered. I slowed down, looking over my shoulder with a frown when I saw the disgust on his face. ‘Sorry, did you just say instant noodles?’
He looked like I’d just told him I drank battery acid.
‘What? The curry one isn’t that bad.’
His hands flew out in front of him. ‘Ah, stop. You can’t honestly think that. Rosie, sweetheart, tell me that this is a joke. You don’t eat one-pot noodles frequently, do you?’
The pleading written on his face made me huff out a stunned laugh. ‘They’re cheap and easy to eat at work.’ My brow raised. ‘I make no apologies for it.’
The growl that rumbled out of him should not have sounded so damn sexy. He started walking again. When his hand rested on my back once more, I tucked my chin to my chest to hide my smile.
‘I’m not happy about that,’ he grumbled.
