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‘I haven’t stalked him,’ she argues, turning slowly on her stool and spotting the fresh mojito – this one blueberry.
‘No? What would you call it, then?’ I ask, fully intending on the condescending tone. She deserves it. She’s being silly.
‘Look at her, Eleanor,’ she moans, throwing her arms in the air. ‘Tall, gorgeous—’
‘Easy,’ I finish for her, fairly or not. But I’m basing my conclusion on what I know and what I’ve seen. And besides, Lucy is my friend. I have a moral obligation to be bitchy towards a woman I don’t know, especially when said woman is sniffing around my friend’s man. Lucy pouts as she peeks out the corner of her eye. ‘He’s obviously smitten with you.’ I reach for her hand and squeeze it. ‘Don’t play her game. He’s yours. Rise above it.’ I ignore my mind’s gentle reminder of the fuck off I threw in Alexa’s face. Acknowledging it would make me a hypocrite.
I see Lucy mulling over my words, staring down at her glass. ‘I’m in love with him,’ she says quietly.
‘Never!’ I gasp, earning a slap on my arm. I laugh it off and relax a little, now she’s stored away the invisible daggers. ‘Of course you’re in love with him, you fool.’
‘Less of the insults,’ she grumbles. ‘Looks like we’ve both been struck by Cupid’s arrow.’
Struck? I laugh.
How about stabbed?Chapter 19An hour later, we’ve made our way through the rest of the mojitos, moved onto wine, and I fear Lucy hasn’t listened to a word I’ve said. She’s got progressively more pissed, worse since she started on the wine, and her eyes are wandering again. I can’t blame her. Melanie has been trying to climb Mark like a tree for the best part of the evening.
‘Dance floor,’ I declare, jumping down from my stool, ignoring the fact that I just stumbled forward a little. Robin S has just kicked in with ‘Show Me Love’, which has kicked my feet into action. I have the urge to dance. Besides, it’s a perfect way to distract Lucy. ‘Come on.’ I grab her hand and drag her across the bar before she can protest, and I don’t let go of her once we’ve shimmied our way onto the dance floor. I send our arms into the air and start lip syncing, drawing a needed laugh from Lucy, who swiftly joins in. We twirl, sing, throw some serious enthusiasm into it, and neither of us are focused on anything else, except each other. Which is just what’s needed.
It’s going well, my tactics working a treat, but my delighted smile is soon wiped from my face when something hard connects with my arse. The contact ignites the heat in my recovering cheek and sends me jolting forward on a grimace of pain. ‘Shit.’ I make to swing around, set on finding the offender and returning the favour to their face. But I don’t make it very far. Two solid arms come around my body and lock me securely to an equally solid chest. My eyes widen, shooting to Lucy.
She’s grinning. It worries me for a split second, but then the moulding of his body into mine eases me. ‘Mr Magnificent!’ Lucy squeals, kissing the tips of her fingers on both hands and throwing her invisible kiss over my head. I hear the sweet sound of Becker’s chuckle in my ear, then his wood-and-apple scent invades my nostrils. My hands rest on his across my stomach and my head cranes back, trying to see him.
He smiles, lopsided and cute, his hair mussed and sexy and gorgeous, his eyes glimmering behind his glasses. ‘You were putting on quite a show,’ he muses, swaying to meet my slowed rhythm.
‘I knew you were watching me.’ I join him in his light banter as Lucy staggers over to the bar and scoops up more wine.
‘Is she rat-arsed?’ Becker asks as she flops onto her stool and draws the proverbial daggers from where she’s safely stored them.
‘Totally,’ I confirm, turning and throwing my arms around his neck. He accepts willingly, and though I know the appearance of my Mr Magnificent has caught the attention of many women nearby, I let the looks of awe go straight over my head. Being an outsider to Lucy’s situation has had clarity explode around me, making my own situation perfectly clear, even in my slightly drunken condition. All the women who I’ve seen as threats are nothing more than a mild inconvenience. I have this sinful bastard’s heart, and I’m keeping it. ‘I love you,’ I declare, loud and proud, shouting over the music, hoping everyone in the bar hears me.
Becker grins wickedly and lifts me from my feet, blowing my hair from my face when a few wayward strands slip free. ‘And I love you, you corrupt, drunken little witch.’ He lands a forceful kiss on my lips and starts carrying me from the floor.
