Page 9 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
The way he overexplains is endearing, and confirms my hunch that he was as eager to impress me with a good table as I was eager to find him earlier. Call me a glutton for compliments, but I do like knowing when someone’s into me. I can blame my ex for that, I suppose.
“That’s why I didn’t think you’d slip away,” I say. “Who’d want to give up such a great table?”
“Not me,” he adds, as if he’s trying not to smile.
A waitress swings by and asks us our poison. I pick a lager, while TJ opts for an ale. When she leaves, I’m tempted to confess I doubled back to Angie’s to see him again. But if I admit I chased him to the thrift shop, he might put me in an Uber like I’ve blubbered to him.
I’d deserve it.
I play it cool instead, opting for a safer topic. “So, how are you finding London so far?”
He shrugs, all no big deal, but keeps those dark eyes on me. “It’s not so bad. I guess we’ll see if you can keep me up.”
“That’s a tall order. But I think I’mupto the task. I happen to be a scintillating conversationalist.”
“Then, Just Jude, you really should keep scintillating.” Something about the way he says that—all faux naughty—rips a laugh straight from my chest. He cracks up too. “All right. Tell me for real about your first day in my hometown. Besides meeting a fabulous Englishman who has the same tastes.”
“Thank God for that,” TJ says, relieved.
“Same here. It’s always a welcome moment when you know you’re not barking up the wrong tree,” I say.
“I prefer the right trees. And England is... pretty good so far. Even though the airline lost my bags, my room wasn’t ready, and I had nothing clean to wear until this afternoon. Also, apparently, I can’t stop yawning.” Another one racks him as the blonde server returns with our drinks.
“Here’s your lager and your ale,” she says, setting down the glasses. “Shall I start a tab for you?”
“Yes,” TJ says, just as I say, “No.”
She holds up her hands to show she’s not getting involved. “I’ll let you gentlemen sort that out.”
I hand her my credit card. “Here you go, love. We’re all set.”
“Thank you,” she says, then spins on her heel.
I turn back to TJ, who’s crossing his arms. Oh, no, no, no. He’s not getting it. “You think when you said yes, and I said no, that I meant I was taking off straight away?”
He scoffs in denial. “It’s all good. I’m happy to call it a night,” he says, so damn nonchalant.
“I’m not letting you get away that quickly.”
Like that, his cool demeanor cracks. A smile breaks through.
I get up, move to his side of the booth, and slide in next to him. When we’re thigh to thigh, his breath hitches, then it catches as I drape an arm around him.
“Are you trapping me?” he asks.
“Yes. Is it working?”
“Depends on what you want to do.”
“Keep you here for this drink.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds. “It’s working quite well.”
“Good. I’d hate to be presumptuous if it wasn’t working.”
He clears his throat. “You should be very presumptuous.”
“Then I’ll presume about other things too.” I curl my hand over that big, strong shoulder that feels so fucking good. I do like a man who’s bigger than I am, broader than I am. Who can climb over me and pin me down.