“Why don’t you wish that anymore?”
He seemed bigger and taller than I remembered, his hair darker, those few flecks of silver at the temples making his age untellable. I didn’t want to take my eyes away from his face, and I itched to trace the rugged edges of his jaw and cheekbones, to see what it would take to make him smile – or even frown.
“Because now I just accept them as they are.” His gaze went back to me. “Your company not good enough for you?”
“The company’s fine. It’s just me.”
He shook his head. “It really isn’t you. I’m sure they’re perfectly nice people.”
“Not your type, hey?”
Tommy shrugged. “I don’t have a type.”
“Everyone has a type.”
“What’s yours then, pretty lady?” He took a step back from the incoming tide.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Thought I did, but I turned out to be wrong.”
“Somebody break your heart?”
I nodded. It was true. I just didn’t tell anyone.
“You want me to break their legs?”
I laughed, not embarrassed this time. “You can let them live.”
“Ah, now, I didn’t offer murder. It’d cost you a lot for murder. Leg breaking, I can do as a loss leader.”
I had no idea if he was joking or not, but it didn’t matter. The beach had started to feel as if it contained the world and there was only me and him in it. Lala and Hunter and Monty were a world and a half away.
“Why aren’t you at the bar tonight? Are you here on a date?” I wished I’d bitten my tongue before the words fell out.
He laughed. His frozen demeanour finally cracking. “I don’t date.”
“I could probably have guessed that.” I looked at my bare feet. “You’d give away some of your mystery if you dated.”
“You think I’m mysterious?”
He looked stunned.
“You have that air about you.”
He laughed. “I’m too boring to be mysterious. I have my bar and my flat and my bike and that’s it.”
“No string of women chasing you? I can’t see that being true. All girls fall for a bartender.”
He smirked. “I said I didn’t date. I didn’t say I didn’t hook up.”
“Now the truth is revealed.”
“I take it you’re the type who needs to be dined and wined at least three times before she puts out.”
“At least four.” I smiled back at him. “And even then it’s not a given. Depends on the quality of champagne.”
“So is Monty in with a shot tonight? He ordered a decent bottle.” His tone had dropped, his words laden with something I couldn’t put my finger on.
I looked back up at the sky. “Are you sure you’re not stalking me?”
