Page 23 of Toy Boy

“I wasn’t asking for a specific number.”

I sit back and sip my gin and tonic, but I keep my eyes fixed firmly on his. “She’s older. By a couple of years.”

“Does she live here, in the bay?”

I shake my head. “No. She lives in Burnham, a small village a few miles away from here. She needs to be nearer to the city, she’s a lawyer.”

“Ah. Right. That’s what I could sense, then.”

I frown again, because I’m not sure what he means by that.

“You just seem more laid-back than her, is what I’m trying to say.”

“You got that from a three second meeting?”

The corner of his mouth turns up, and I smile, too.

“Are you meeting someone?” I ask, quickly changing the subject.

It’s his turn to shake his head as he sips his pint and looks out over the beach. It’s much quieter now. Those that had been there before are probably either heading home now, or they’re here, in the pub, grabbing food and a few drinks.

“No. I’m still just trying to familiarise myself with the place, which is why I’m here, I suppose. And you’re right, The Shack is somewhere I’ve been hanging out in ever since I got here, I just thought it was about time I spent a few hours somewhere else. “

“Okay. Well, there are worse places you could’ve come.”

He laughs again, and I’m almost willing my stomach to behave now.

“Want another?” I ask, indicating his almost empty pint glass.

“I’ll get them.” He starts to get up out of his seat but I push him back down with a gentle hand on his shoulder. And just touching him… Seriously, am I having some kind of early mid-life crisis here?

“No, I’ll go. I could do with the exercise.”

And a chance to gain some much-needed composure. I seem to be losing mine by the second.

He smiles. “Thanks.”

“Same again?”

He nods and I grab my empty glass and head into the pub. It’s pretty crowded inside, too, mainly because the terrace is at full capacity, and the low hum of chatter, clinking glasses and clattering of cutlery is a comfortable, familiar sound. I love this pub. It’s friendly, welcoming, and incredibly pretty, inside, and out. Modern, yet there’s a kind of olde-worlde charm about it; an atmosphere that manages to be both bright and airy in the summer and cosy as hell in the winter. You should see it at Christmas. It’s beautiful!

“Another gin and tonic and a pint of lager, please, Gina.”

“Coming up.” Gina starts to make my G&T, and I lean over the bar and contemplate whether to order a dessert. The chilli was delicious, and there was a lot of it, the portion sizes here are incredibly generous, but I could just about manage to squeeze in a slice of Dean’s homemade apple pie, or maybe some mint choc-chip ice cream…

“What are you doing, Megan?”

I spin around to see Scott standing behind me, his dark eyes fixing me with the kind of look he has no business giving me.

“I’m having a drink. In my local pub. Is there a problem?”

I really don’t want to get into a confrontation with him in the middle of the bar, and the look I givehimtells him just that. And he gets it. Thankfully. He might be a lot of things but the one thing he isn’t is stupid.

He leans into me, and while I’m not happy he’s invading my space, I don’t exactly do anything about it, mainly because all that would achieve is drawing even more attention to us. And I imagine we’re already something close to entertainment in this town as it is right now, thanks to his sudden reappearance.

“Who is he?” he hisses into my ear, and I gently push him away, turning back around to pay for the drinks before picking them up. “Megan?”

“Not here,” I hiss back as I brush past him.

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