The First Mistake(43)

I nodded.

‘So, nothing’s changed apart from how you feel. And just because you’ve now decided you want more, he’s supposed to jump to?’

I nodded meekly.

‘Jeez, the poor man’s not telepathic, Beth!’

‘I know, I know,’ I said. ‘I will talk to him, if I ever get the chance.’

She took hold of my hand. ‘Listen, this may not be what you want to hear at the moment, but I’m being serious when I say there has to be more to a relationship than—’

‘I understand your concern,’ I said, patting her hand like my grandmother used to do to me.

‘Stop taking the piss,’ she laughed, pulling it away.

‘You’d be surprised how intellectually stimulating we find each other as well.’

‘I’ll bet,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘I mean it!’ I exclaimed. ‘We’ve spoken at length about the value of wine, its investment potential and the upsides to repack sales.’

She looked at me blankly. ‘I don’t even know what you’re talking about.’

‘Aha! See? We’re connecting on a far more cerebral level than you give us credit for.’

I thought it wise not to mention that straight after said conversation, he’d almost made me climax on a packed train.

My phone rang, and smiling, I showed Maria that ‘Hot Guy’ was ringing. ‘Looks like it’s time for my bootie call,’ I said, as she choked on her wine.

‘Well, if you’re remotely serious about this guy, I suggest you change that to his actual name.’

‘Hey, it’s me,’ he said, as I stuck out my tongue at Maria.

‘Me?’ I queried, letting him believe that he could be one of a hundred.

‘Do you have many men’s faces buried between your legs?’ he asked.

Touché.

Still, I stayed silent for a few seconds, as if waiting for the penny to drop. ‘Oh, hi,’ I said, eventually. ‘How are you?’

I thought I heard him snigger. ‘I’m good, how are you? How’s Tyson doing after his little adventure?’

‘He’s all good,’ I said. ‘Thanks to you, he doesn’t seem any the worse for it, as far as I can see. What’s going on with you?’

‘I was just sitting here thinking about you and I wondered if you were around tonight to hook up?’

‘Tonight?’ I repeated, for Maria’s benefit, though I immediately regretted it as the voice of reason was shaking her head and wagging her finger at me. ‘Er, I can’t really do anything tonight. I’m in the pub with my friend Maria.’

‘How late will you be?’ he said. ‘I could meet you afterwards.’

There was a very real flip in my stomach at the idea of ‘hooking up’. It must have been written all over my face as Maria rolled her eyes theatrically and threw her arms into the air in exasperation.

‘Why don’t you come here?’ I said, throwing a curveball, not thinking for a second that he’d knock it out the park. Maria’s eyes widened and she looked down at herself before shaking her head.

‘Sure, where are you?’

Oh. My. God, I mouthed to Maria, as I ran a background check of myself in my head. What underwear did I have on? When did I last shave my legs? Was the flat tidy?

‘We’re in the Tiger’s Head in Woking,’ I said, my voice belying the panic I felt. ‘The one overlooking the green.’

‘Okay, I’ll be there in around forty minutes,’ he said.

‘Cool, see you then.’

‘Well, you played hard to get,’ said Maria after I’d hung up. ‘And now you’ve thrown me under the bus as well. Look at the state of me.’

‘You look gorgeous,’ I said, fluffing up her dark curls. ‘Anyway, I thought you weren’t about all that superficial bollocks. It’s not about looks and physical attraction, Maria. God, you’re so shallow.’

She swiped me across the arm, probably all too aware that I was only taking the mickey out of her to stop myself from spontaneously combusting with excitement.

‘Oh, so he’s here then,’ she said a little while later. I briefly marvelled at how she knew when she had her back to the door, but I realized my wide grin must have given the game away.

‘Hi,’ I said, way too over-enthusiastically. I lent up to kiss his cheek, but he turned and gave me a kiss on the lips. ‘This is Maria.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, offering his hand. She looked a little miffed that she wasn’t getting a kiss and I had to suppress a giggle.

‘You too,’ she said, in her clipped telephone voice.

Two bottles of wine later and Maria’s ancestral Scottish lilt was beginning to make itself heard. My accent, on the other hand, had apparently become more Italian, as Maria had laughingly observed.

‘So, you’re in the wine business, eh?’ she asked Thomas. ‘How much would this . . .’ She took a look at the label. ‘So, how much would this Merlot be?’

He smiled as she pronounced the T. ‘Well, this bottle wouldn’t be worth more than you paid for it, other than you’d expect to pay twenty pounds more in a restaurant and five pounds less in a supermarket.’