Page 14 of The Life-Changing Magic of Falling in Love

Maybe the bakery is a cover too.

I break out into a sweat.

Mr. Surprised-Smile Guy’s really turning up this time.

I should have made more effort.

As if reading my mind Carlos suddenly says, ‘Are you wearing polyester?’ Carlos feels the material of my sleeve. ‘You know how hot it gets in here. Polyester does not breathe.’

What can I say?

Tonight, the energy didn’t translate to me looking good. That, plus I pulled a double to cover for a couple of staff out sick. My hair is up in its usual ponytail and I have on jeans, and a button-down black shirt that I changed into at the last minute. I shrug and confess, ‘I thought he was going to be another no-show and I’d be drowning my sorrows in tiramisu so I went with comfortable instead. And this shirt isn’t polyester. It’s silk.’ I look down. ‘Okay, probably not. But either way, let’s agree it’s understated elegance and shiny-chicness.’

‘Shiny-shitness, maybe.’ Carlos looks like he is contemplating us swapping shirts but then, after a quick glance to Oz, changes his mind. ‘Never mind. No time. Quick, sit down. And look relaxed,’ he orders, even as he’s busy undoing the first two buttons of my shirt.

‘I’m not sure – hey—’ My butt misses the chair Oz has pulled out for me and I hit the floor with a thud.

Spectacular.

‘With you two as chaperones,’ I mutter, ‘it’s a wonder I’ll ever see any action.’

‘Ashleigh, I assume?’

I want to say the ‘what happens when you assume’ thing as a face looms at me at ground level but as I take in the smile on Mr. Surprised-Smile Guy’s face I wonder instead if my polyester shirt has caught fire because it suddenly feels hot in here.

Large, warm hands reach out to easily haul me to my feet.

And so that is how I formally meet Zach Weldon.

Owner of the surprised smile.

Stander-upper of epic proportions.

Okay. One time.

I frown as his gaze sort of gets stuck on my chest area.

I look down and, oh, good lord.

My shirt is open to the waist giving him an eyeful of my non-lacy washed-so-many-times-it’s-now-off-white comfort bra.

My hands go to the buttons of my shirt but are beaten to it by Carlos’s hands, which Oz immediately reaches over to slap away.

‘I-um, hi, so, I’m Ashleigh Rivera, and despite all evidence to the contrary, under normal circumstances I successfully dress myself every day.’ My smile is that kind of shy smile as I begin re-buttoning my shirt.

‘Hi.’ Zach smiles back at me and his smile is tinged with shyness too. ‘I’m Zach Weldon, and I have no problem with how you dress. Or don’t. Okay, that came out wrong.’

‘Sit. Sit,’ Carlos insists, clearly delighted with Zach and my flirting prowess. He pulls out his chair and eyeballs Oz to do the same.

The small square table shifts slightly as Oz moves his large frame against it and I notice Zach reach out in time to grab the crutch he’s leant against it. It is the perfect accessory to the moon boot he is wearing.

‘The broken toe was for real, then?’ I ask.

That was the excuse he texted Carlos with two weeks ago to which I muttered words along the lines of, ‘If you’re going to lie, at least make it a good one,’ before ordering a round of shots.

‘Actually, it’s a broken ankle. Result of a hospital-pass situation on the soccer field.’

Obviously, what I am supposed to do at this point is ask how he is doing – if there’s serious damage done – if he plays in an essential-to-the-team position etc.

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