She wrinkles her nose with a laugh. “You think they’re getting their catch from that mucky water? We’ll walk out of here glowing green if they are.”
I hold the door open for her as I laugh and shake my head.
“Good evening, Mr Graves!” The friendly lady behind the bar gives me a brilliant smile as we approach. “Table for two, is it?”
“Yes, please.”
“Table service?” Mia mutters behind me. “What kind of pub is this?”
We’re shown to a quiet, dimly lit table in the corner, and it feels romantic in a way that has me looking at Mia to see if she’s feeling awkward.
But she simply slips off her coat and scarf, handing them to me to hang on the hat stand behind my chair. She’s wearing a tight black knit dress, over-the-knee boots, and enormous gold hoops that glimmer against her hair.
I’m fucking staring at her.
Mia picks up the menu and glances over it, tapping her long manicured nails against the back of it.
“Do you recommend anything?” She glances up at me, at my place by the hat stand where I’m still just staring at her. Her eyebrows lift slightly. “You alright?”
“Uh, yes, yes I am.”Just a bumbling fucking fool staring at a beautiful young woman like she’s a conquest and not his fucking daughter-in-law.“Sorry, your hair looks spectacular, it’s a little distracting.”
Mia’s mouth widens into a smile, and she runs a hand along the length of her hair.
“Oh, ta. New brand partner and their products actually work, which is nice. Makes all those ads feel worth it.”
I finally take a seat, and she looks back down at her menu.
“I’m starving,” she says. “That steak and mushroom pie sounds good.”
“It is, very good. And their gravy is a food group unto itself, believe me.”
“Sounds tempting.” She crosses one long leg over the other, tapping her nails on the table. “And you? Are you a big manly man who only eats steak with his bare hands?”
I laugh softly. “I do need my protein.”
“One look at you establishes that and all,” she replies, smiling across the table at me. “Archie used to joke that you trained more than the players.”
“My dad’s a walking advert for what happens when you don’t look after your health.” I shrug, tracing my fingertips along the woodgrain of the table. “He was an athlete, but he drank too much, smoked too much, and I watched him go from Billy Boy Graves to an old man ferrying around an oxygen tank. That did something to me.” I give her a smile. “And when you wake up one morning and your hip hurts because you spent too long sleeping on it, you know it’s time to really start looking after yourself.”
Mia appears impressed. “That’s extremely sensible of you.”
“I do have some sense about me.”
She laughs and reaches across the table to brush a hand over mine. “I just mean, you know, it’s nice that you look after yourself and want to set yourself up for a long life. I like that.”
My hand glows with warmth from where she touched me, and as I look across the table at her, I realise for the first time just what shade of green her eyes are - bright, sparkling jade green. Like a luxurious hidden pool of water somewhere on the coast of Croatia.
What the fuck is wrong with you?
The waiter arrives to bring us water and take our orders, giving me time to get my shit together and internally slap myself for ogling my son’s wife in public. Maybe I’m just reading too much into it. Maybe this is just a paternal feeling, my protective instinct coming out.
But the way I look at her stockinged legs visible beneath the hem of her dress, that’s anything but paternal.
I’m just a fucking pig, it seems.
“Joanne Murray doesn’t seem to be a fan of yours,” Mia says once the waiter leaves.
Yes, please, let’s talk about my shortcomings so I can remind myself I’m a fucking arsehole who needs to pull his bleeding head in.
