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His eyebrows shoot up and he rubs the back of his neck. “Er, wow, that’s a strong word. No, I just thought I’d pop by to see if you fancied a chat.”
“It’s a girls’ night, Lewis. I’m sure I mentioned that.”
“You did, but it looks like Maisie has gone back to work and you’re at this table on your own. Surely you’d rather have company than drink by yourself—even if that company is me?”
“There are other faces here I recognise. I’d be welcome to jump into any number of other conversations.”
“I’m sure you would,” Lewis agrees. “But c’mon, we both know I’ve got better chat than anyone else here.”
As he says this, he leans closer to me, and maybe it’s because of his proximity, or because of what Maisie and I were just discussing, but my gaze flicks down to the crotch of his jeans. It takes me a moment to realise what I’m doing and tear my eyes away again. Get it together, Iona!
Because I’m a little flustered by having just peered at Lewis’s bits, I don’t say anything for a second or two, and he apparently interprets my lack of objection as an invitation to sit. He takes the seat Maisie vacated and beams at me.
This annoys me, naturally, but then again, the table does block my view of his lower half, so at least I won’t be tempted to have another sneak peek at his package. If only he could also put a bag over his face to hide his irritatingly good looks.
Oh God, where did that thought come from? Am I just tipsy or am I drunk? I’m not entirely sure.
Don’t make a fool of yourself, Iona. Finish your drink then get out of here as soon as you can.
“Well,” I say drily, adjusting my glasses, “seeing as you’ve already sat down, what would you like to talk about? You’ve got five minutes then I’m off. And please do try your best to amuse me because I’ve had an absolute riot with Maisie and I’d rather not end the night on a dull note.”
Lewis’s lips curl into a playful grin that shows off his dimples, and he leans back in his chair. “Challenge accepted.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LEWIS
Iona hasn’t left yet, and it’s been twelve minutes since I sat down with her—that’s more than double the five she originally offered me. That’s a win in my book, albeit a small one. I don’t want her to go anywhere anytime soon, though, so I have to keep this conversation rolling.
What I’d really like to do is talk about something meaningful—maybe reminisce about times from our childhood and teens. We’ve so many shared memories, but we never relive them together because . . . well, she doesn’t much like chatting with me about anything. If I steer the conversation towards our personal history too soon, I’m worried she’ll get up and leave, so I’m keeping my chat general for now. I’m easing her into this, taking things slowly. The bridge between us collapsed a long time ago, and I know rebuilding it won’t happen overnight.
Unfortunately, my current topic—funny things I’ve found in guests’ rooms after they’ve checked out—isn’t going down as well as some of my earlier banter.
Lewis, you cannot afford to mess this up. You’ve got to bring your A game.
As I mentally scramble for a new topic, old Hamish walks past our table, heading for the door, his brown-and-white springer spaniel in tow. The dog, Ruby, pads over to Iona for a sniff, and Iona melts, as she always does around animals. She crouches down and pats Ruby’s head, scratches her chin, and ruffles her ears. “Oh, look at you. You’re adorable!”
Ruby’s tail wags furiously and she pants happily, her tongue lolling—she’s clearly delighted by the attention. She reminds me a lot of my childhood dog, Molly, who was a cocker.
Apparently, I’m not the only one to notice the similarity. After Ruby follows Hamish outside, Iona turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling. “Did you notice it was me Ruby came to say hello to? Who does that remind you of?”
“Oi!” I say, a smile tugging at my lips. “Don’t even try to pretend Molly preferred you to me.”
“Oh, she absolutely did. We settled this debate on multiple occasions, or have you forgotten?”
And just like that, without me having to engineer it, the reminiscing has begun. Thank you, Ruby.
“Those tests were rigged!” I accuse. “We’re twenty-seven now—it’s time for you to finally fess up. How did you do it? Did you always have a treat in your pocket? I never was able to figure it out.”
As kids, Iona and I would stand at opposite sides of a room or a field and both call Molly’s name. She always went to Iona, the little traitor.
“There was nothing to figure out, Lewis. She liked me best. That’s all.”
I cover my heart with my hands. “You’re killing me here. She was my dog, Iona.”
“Aye, I know, and you were her second-favourite person—after me. That’s not bad. I’ll concede she preferred you to Ally or Jamie or Cat. That’s something. She just didn’t like you quite as much as she liked me.”
“She slept in my bed at night. It was my job to fill up her dog bowl. And yet all you had to do was call ‘Molly!’, and her allegiance to me was forgotten.” I shake my head and let out a theatrical sigh. “The betrayal still stings to this day.”
