Page 6 of Pelvic Flaws

I’d always thought men with grey hair were old and wrinkly and took their teeth out to suck on mint imperials. Not this one though. This one had silver stubble, bright blue eyes, and thick, luscious, swept back hair that was a mixture of dark grey and silver. When he leaned forward, his navy shirt gaped a little to reveal a dark, tanned chest and a hint of a tattoo. With defined, almost aristocratic features, he was beautiful. In fact, when he spoke in an accent that sounded like he should be wearing a Stetson and riding a horse, I nearly bloody exploded.

Pity I made an idiot of myself, and he caught me looking at the lump in his jeans, not to mention the bloody cream for my dry fangita. He actually laughed at that, so I supposed that wasn’t so bad. I could have forgotten it all, if he’d taken his order and run, but it wasn’t ready. So once I ordered, the only place left to sit was next to him.

“I think you need a new bag,” Dex said, nodding at my ancient tote bag with the now broken handle.

“Yes, I think so. Unless I can stitch it.”

“Cool picture, by the way.”

I picked the bag up and placed it on my knee, looking down at the unicorn rearing onto its back legs.

“My son drew it a few years ago. He’s amazing at art.”

Dex pulled the bag closer to him. “There’s a lot of detail. He’s real good. How old is he?”

“He’s nineteen now,” I sighed. “And working in a record shop.”

I tried not to sound judgemental when I said it, but I bloody well was. Isaac’s two years at sixth form had been a total waste of time – unless of course you counted his success with the number of girls he’d bedded. At one time I was buying him a box of twelve condoms every week, so he was either going through women quicker than it took to sell tickets to the Magic Mike show, or he was being very childish and using them as water balloons.

“Do they still have those?” Dex asked. “Record shops.”

“Well they do, but I don’t think many people use it.” I dropped my bag to the floor and sat back in the plastic chair. “I have a feeling he could be without a job very soon.”

Dex nodded and turned to the counter. “They’re a little slow in here tonight,” he said.

I guessed that was secret code for ‘I wish they’d hurry up, because I really don’t want to sit next to you and your dry fanny any longer’, but he was evidently too nice to say.

“Do you live around here?” I asked, as Dex glanced at his mobile.

“I have an apartment a few blocks down.”

I thought for a moment. “Oh, you have a flat a couple of streets away.”

Dex laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. I keep forgetting I’m not in the US any longer.”

“You been here long?”

“A little over two years. Born and raised in Dallas, but my mom was British. She was from Manchester, actually. She always wanted me to live here, so she made sure I had dual citizenship.”

He looked at me and smiled, and I was pretty sure my nipples went ‘pow, pow’, actually making that noise, as they popped out. I looked away, feeling all giddy like a schoolgirl on a first date. Blimey, imagine what he would have done to me had we been on an actual date.

“Dex,” the guy behind the counter shouted.

“I guess I’m up,” Dex said, half-turning in his seat and holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Katie.”

I took his hand, and shook it once again, and just as the first time I did it, my breath whooshed out of my lungs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I replied and inhaled deeply.

I watched him and his sexy bum walk to the counter and pay for his food, and then I watched him and his sexy bum walk out of the door and off into the distance. I even stood up and craned my neck until I couldn’t see him any longer.

“Katie.”

I heard my name called and on instinct, shouted.

“Dex!”

* * *

---