“You know, you’re a brave soul.”
That catches my attention. “Pardon?”
“Ordering wine from a pub.”
“Oh.” It’s true. Charly O’Neills doesn’t offer an extensive wine menu. “I don’t care for beer.”
Amusement plays across his features and heat rises on my skin. “Yet you come to a pub? Meeting a friend?”
I could tell him it’s near work and that it’s a treat I give myself. A treat I’ve been giving myself more frequently in the last couple of months. “Sometimes they play futbol on the screen.”
I don’t have a television in my apartment. Although, I could afford one now, but if I’ll be moving one day, it’s probably best to wait and buy one when I’m settled.
“And who do you root for?”
“Corinthians.” As I answer, a vision of my father shouting victoriously after a goal comes out of nowhere. That was so long ago, it’s surprising I remember.
“Brazil?” Those thick eyebrows come together, and his brow furrows, but he grins. “Are you Brazilian?”
“I am.” My shoulders straighten and my chin juts out ever so slightly. This man with his dark hues doesn’t strike me as being native to the area, either. “Let me guess. Are you British?”
“No.” He places a hand near a stool and hesitates. “May I join you?”
“Certainly.” I don’t own the bar stools. Once again, I’m struck by a sense of familiarity. “Have we met before?”
“No.” A smirk plays across his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing the strands that having fallen forward over his brow back.
“But you seem so familiar.”
“I promise you, if we’d met before, I would remember.” His heated gaze lights a frisson of energy deep in my core.
“Do you work near here?” It’s an appropriate question, the only one I can think of that doesn’t reveal the effect he’s having on me.
“I do.” His eyes and that smirk tease. My gaze drops to the base of the wineglass as heat rises from my chest, along my neck and to my cheeks.
His silence has me risking a glance up, and I catch him perusing my body. If he weren’t so handsome, I might scold him.
“Tristan,” he says, with his hand extended.
“Lucia,” I answer. “Do you also know William?”
Tristan and William exchange a glance, but William is across the bar filling a pint glass.
“I don’t. But I’ve been in here before.” He leans forward and I become his sole focus. “So Lucia, tell me something about yourself.”
It’s a pickup line. Delivered more smoothly than the man before him and with far greater effect, but he’s wasting his effort because while he’s a handsome male specimen, I’m not into one-night stands.
“You go first.” I sip my wine and meet his gaze, leaving the ball in his corner.
“I’m new to the area. Looking to meet some new acquaintances.”
That piques my interest. “Where’d you move from?”
“London.”
“I love London.”
“You’ve been?”