That One Moment (Lost in London #2)(86)
“Before what?”
“Before I got a clue. Before I had the wakeup call of my life.” I clench my jaw and eye him seriously adding, “Before I realised I didn’t just like your sister.”
His eyes flash knowingly, but he’s still not convinced. “You should have known that long before now, mate.” He moves to walk away again and I jerk him back…again.
Through desperate, clenched teeth, I add, “This isn’t just a flippant kind of feeling to me, Gareth. It’s something I’ve never felt before. With anyone.” He huffs out a laugh, but I continue, “It’s the kind of love we all bore witness to in that chapel today.”
Gareth’s amusement drops and his jaw clenches, an angry muscle in it ticks ominously. My big mouth refuses to take a hint. “Your sister is mine, Gareth. She’s tied to my heart whether you accept it or not.”
“Is that right?” He squints in challenge.
“She’s my forever,” I add seriously, surprising even myself with that statement.
His glower drops and he leans closer in to me. “Then what the f*ck are you waiting for?”
RUINED
“All men are f*cking wankers,” Julie snaps, flopping down into the open seat beside me. Her posture and scowling expression are at complete odds with her gorgeous little black dress and perfect hair and makeup. She begins ripping bobby pins out of her updo and tossing them into the centre of the table. “Stupid, spiteful, ball-less wankers. They all shave their balls now because one person got it in their head that it makes their cocks look bigger. All it does is make them look like pussies. The lot of them.”
I bite back the urge to laugh because Julie is obviously not in a joking mood. “Everything okay, Julie?”
She looks at me like I have three heads. “No! It’s not okay! Christ! My life is so far from okay that the word should start with an F and end with UCKED.” She rips the final bobby pin out with a mighty tug and her thick black hair cascades down to her shoulders. She leans into me with a deathly serious look. “Let me give you a piece of advice, Vi. You think women’s lib has evolved our species. It hasn’t. And if you ever get the f*cking stupid idea that you want to drop down on one knee and start your happily ever after your bloody self, then you’ve just kissed a three-year relationship goodbye.”
My eyes turn wide. “You proposed to Mitch?”
Pure rage seethes in the blacks of her eyes as she stands back up and musses her hair wildly. She turns to leave but pauses and leans down to add, “Mitch buggered off faster than I could stand back up. If you’re on your knees and you don’t have a cock in your mouth, then you’ve just dug your own grave, my girl.”
She strides off toward the bar and whacks shoulders with Gareth as he comes back toward the table.
“Care to dance?” A male voice utters in my ear. I glance up and take in Ethan’s blue eyes that contrast stunningly against his latte skin. He really is a striking specimen of a man.
“She’s taken,” Gareth booms from behind me.
I turn and frown at his widen stance. “And she can speak for herself,” I snap. I look back to Ethan. “I’m not taken, but I’m also not interested. Thanks anyway.”
“Suit yourself. Jules will be back anyway,” he grins naughtily. “They always do.” I blanch at the blatant innuendo and my eyes catch sight of Hayden storming right this way.
Knowing I’d really rather not be at a table in front of all of my coworkers when Hayden’s caveman comes out, I hop to my feet. “I’m just running to the toilet,” I murmur, holding down the light chiffon fabric that flows a bit too easily as I make haste.
I swerve between the tables and out into the narrow stone-covered hallway that’s barely illuminated by a few flickering candle sconces on the wall. Feeling Hayden’s presence approaching as if I’m some type of psychic channeling into his energy, I tuck into a tiny dark alcove that houses row after row of dusty bottles of wine.
“Seriously, you’re hiding from me now?” Hayden barks as he comes to a stop in the shallow arched entryway.
“Not hiding. Just curious about this bottle here,” I state pragmatically while dusting off a bottle of wine. “Wow 1821, think it was a good year?”
He ducks his head to enter the small space and my heart instantly seizes. His scent, his aura, his presence…It’s overwhelming. He grasps the bottle in my hand and our fingers brush. A sharp intake of air on my part doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His pupils glitter within the grey depths of his eyes as he watches me for a few seconds. “Vi, please hear me out,” he states softly while carefully returning the bottle to its shelf.
“It’s really not necessary, Hayden.” I swallow hard, attempting not to let that tortured, beautifully broken face pull me in. “You said a lot to me that day in Notting Hill. Things that I won’t be forgetting.”
He blinks as if in pain. “Vi, what that lady said scared the shit out of me. Surely you can see why.”
I shrug my shoulders, doing my best not to look like I’ve just been punched in the gut again. “I get it, Hayden. I don’t need you rubbing salt in the open wound.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he warns, his eyes narrowing to slits.