He’s right though, the tabledoeshave a lean on it. Every time either one of us shoots the ball towards that same end, it rolls into the corner pocket. To begin with, it causes cries of indignation from one of us and glee from the other, but pretty soon we’re both just laughing.
‘I know a poor workman blames his tools, but this is ridiculous,’ Ash says, taking the cue out of my hands and simultaneously reaching for the chalk behind me.
My breath catches as his arm brushes against mine and then it becomes shallow as he chalks up the cue, standing deliciously close. His gaze roves from my lips to my eyes and back again before dropping to the pool cue.
As soon as he moves away, I nervily knock back my drink and walk over to place my empty glass on a nearby table, but when I turn around, I feel as though I’ve stepped onto a merry-go-round.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asks as I hastily place both hands on the table to steady myself.
‘I think I probably need to line my stomach before drinking any more.’
‘Shall we go get something to eat?’ he asks.
‘I noticed an Indian restaurant across the road and a Mexican a couple of doors down?’ I’m cutting my trip short, soI have money to blow. But does Ash? ‘Or we could go somewhere cheaper—’
‘I’d murder a Mexican,’ he interrupts me.
‘Let’s hurry up and finish this game then.’
He turns around and pots the black ball. ‘You win,’ he says flippantly.
‘I can’t believe you just lost on purpose!’
‘I’m sure you would have beaten me anyway.’
Generousandunlikely, given he’s already four balls down.
‘What do you feel like eating?’ he asks over his shoulder as we walk out through the bar.
‘I thought we were murdering a Mexican?’
‘Shh!’ he hisses, shooting an alarmed look at the other punters. ‘People might think we’re homicidal.’
I’m still laughing as we set off along the pavement.
CHAPTER FIVE
A table comes free just as we arrive at the Mexican restaurant a few doors along. The interior is long and narrow with a back wall lined almost entirely with brightly lit tequila bottles. Tables and chairs run the length of the left-hand wall and on the right is a long counter, behind which four chefs are busy preparing food. It’s buzzy.
We order nachos, which are brought to the table right away, and we’ve already demolished most of them when our drinks appear a few minutes later. I went for lemonade, but Ash chose a pineapple margarita and my eyes must go round at the sight of the pineapple and lime ice lolly poking out the top because he plucks it out by the stick and offers it to me.
‘Are you sure?’ I ask, my fingers itching to take it.
‘I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.’
I accept the gift and lick the remnants of his drink off the end. ‘Oh wow. You have to try.’
I casually brandish the ice lolly in his face and then go completely still when he catches my hand in his to hold it steady. His lips part and his tongue sneaks out to take a lick, and the bolt of attraction I feel almost knocks me sideways.
‘You all right?’ Ash asks with a frown, releasing me.
I have no idea what my face just did.
‘I’m fine.’ I pick up my lemonade and take a gulp, acutely aware of the phantom impression his touch has left behind. It’s like he’s still holding my hand.
‘Really?’ he presses.
‘I’m fine,’ I repeat, avoiding looking at him.
