‘Really? You promise you won’t get mad.’
‘I promise.’ Clare nodded with vigour but her mischievous smile contradicted her.
‘What are you scheming?’
‘Nothing. I swear to you. I’ve decided I’m going to humour you this weekend and go along with this whole meeting Steven thing because I know it’s important to you. But I want it to be noted that I still think it’s a big steaming bag of shite.’
‘Point noted and well made, thank you.’
‘Good. Will we get started then? Do you think any of that lot are Stevens?’ Clare nodded towards the bar.
I shuffled round in my chair. A group of three fairly attractive men stood by the bar, laughing as they waited for their drinks.
I turned back to Clare. ‘I’d like to think the dark-haired one might be.’
She frowned. ‘They’ve all got dark hair.’
‘Exactly.’
Clare giggled. ‘That was quite funny. For you. No time like the present.’ She swigged back the rest of her drink then stood up.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To introduce us to the nice young men at the bar.’
‘You want me to come with you?’
‘Of course. Or did you think I was going to drag them over one by one so you could do a name-check?’
‘No. But?—’
But Clare wasn’t listening. She’d already picked up her bag andcoat. I reluctantly reached for my coat. Then I heard one word that froze me to the spot.
‘Steve!’ The tallest of the trio waved in the direction of the door.
I slowly turned towards the door, stomach lurching.
Clare grabbed my arm. ‘I guess that answers our question,’ she whispered.
It must have started raining as ‘Steve’ held a dripping coat over his head. Could he betheSteven? I swear the whole bar must have been able to hear the thumping of my heart.
‘Move your coat,’ I whispered. ‘I can’t see your face.’
‘Steve! Over here.’
I held my breath as he finally removed the coat then shook out his blond hair.
Clare squeezed my arm. ‘Not bad,’ she whispered. ‘I know you prefer dark hair but he’s pretty cute.’
‘Not bad,’ I whispered back. ‘Not bad at all.’
Steve headed towards the group.
‘I can’t believe you’re late for your own bloody stag do,’ shouted one of the men. ‘You’d better not be late next Saturday, Steve, or my sister will lynch you.’
Bollocks.
‘I’m guessing he’ll not be your man Steven then?’
