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Ollie arched one brow at the vehemence of her statement. “Okay.” Then with one last glance to make sure she actually was fine, he said, “I’ll be back soon.”
Slipping through the kitchen and back inside the pub, he sought out…fuck. Whatever her name was. Not that it mattered now.
Wending his way through the much larger crowd, Oliver found the blonde sitting at the same table with an empty chip basket and two other local blokes ogling her tits. Ordinarily he would have used his superior height and size to his advantage and scared them away, reclaimed his seat at the table, but considering his current situation with Mia, who was he to spoil anyone’s fun? Especially since he wouldn’t be partaking of it himself. And it wasn’t as if the lady in question seemed to mind the attention, judging by the way she leaned closer to Tom and Baz, flashing them one of those coy little smiles she’d used on him earlier.
“I’m sorry,” he said, approaching the table. “That took longer than expected.”
The blonde whipped her head around to stare at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open. The local boys glared at him, probably expecting him to steal away their prize. Hell, it wasn’t Ollie’s fault he’d been blessed with his father’s natural charisma and his mother’s Nordic good looks. He couldn’t help it if women naturally gravitated towards him. Not that he usually did much to dissuade them either.
Tonight’s your lucky night, boys.
“You’ve been gone so long I honestly didn’t think you were coming back,” Blondie stammered, flicking a nervous glance at her new companions and then at the chip basket. “I ate all your chips.”
Oliver chuckled. “A fair price to pay for my rudeness. Especially since I can’t stay.”
“What?” all three of them said at once. Blondie sounded like she wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or not, while Tom and Baz sounded perfectly happy about the sudden turn of events.
“A friend of mine isn’t feeling well. I need to make sure she gets home okay.”
“Aww, what a sweet gesture,” Tom said, making zero attempt to hide his sarcasm.
“Yeah, you take care now, Bennett,” Baz added, slapping his hand on Ollie’s shoulder and giving him a shove. At least he tried to, but standing at five feet and nine inches to Ollie’s six feet and five, and working at a desk all day compared to pounding hot metal on an anvil, Baz had as much of a chance at shoving Ollie away as a chihuahua did to a Great Dane.
Ignoring the guys, Ollie held out his hand to Blondie and smiled. “It was very nice meeting you. Have fun at your cousin’s wedding. And if you’re ever this far north again, I hope you’ll stop by and say g’day.”
He turned to leave, but she grabbed his wrist. “That’s it? Just… see ya later? You invited me for a drink and now you’re blowing me off for another woman?”
“For a friend who needs my help, yes,” he said more calmly than he felt, suddenly feeling a lot less guilty about forgetting her name. “And excuse me for saying so,” he added drily, “but it didn’t really look like you were missing me. So goodnight. And fellas”—he shot Tom and Baz a look that communicated exactly how glad he was to be leaving—“good luck.”
The guys hid their chuckles behind their pint glasses while Blondie huffed, looking miffed that anyone would dare to dismiss her so readily.
Oliver made a beeline for the back door of the pub and the cranky wench he hoped was still waiting for him.
Chapter Three
Mia awoke with a jolt and blindly swung her fist, flinching when she connected with something fleshy.
“What the hell, Mia? It’s me. It’s Ollie.”
Pushing back her hoodie just far enough to see the big man crouching in front of her, she winced when she saw him cupping his cheek. “Sorry, force of habit,” she grumbled.
His eyes widened momentarily as he absorbed her unintentional admission, then softened with sympathy, withpity. Like she needed any of that.
Clenching her jaw, she looked away.
“No, I’m sorry, sweetling,” Oliver said gently. “I should have made some noise before approaching you. I didn’t realise you’d fallen asleep.”
His rich voice smoothed her ruffled feathers, something she found to be both a comfort and a nuisance. She hadn’t seen the man since they were seventeen. How the hell did he still have such an effect on her? He didn’t even sound the same as he had back then, and except for his height and the colour of his hair, he didn’t much look the same either.
Instead of the lean, clean running machine she’d crushed on as a girl, the man before her was a bearded brute, his long dark-blond hair pulled up in a ridiculous yet artfully messy man-bun, and a tattoo of runes wrapped around one thick forearm.
His eyes were different too. Not their colour, they were still the same beautiful blue they’d always been, but a world-weary shadow marred their depths. Dulled their once brilliant shine.
Not that she could talk.
She’d changed so much her childhood friend hadn’t recognised her at all.
It wasn’t as if she’d been trying to hide her identity from him. Well, maybe she had, a little bit. But it was more embarrassment than anything that had kept her tugging her hoodie down to hide her eyes. Not because she’d been drinking, because honestly, she was nowhere near as drunk as Ollie and Dave seemed to think. Certainly not enough to cause such a fuss.
