Page 59 of Prove You Wrong

My giggle draws a glare from a nearby table, making us both snigger quietly at the snobbish clientele. Nate catches my eye and quirks his eyebrow. Holding my gaze he loosens his tie, somehow making the way the silk unknots, sliding against itself, ridiculously sexy. He coils it around two of his fingers before sliding it onto the table. Then he methodically undoes his top button, repeating the same at each cuff. Folding back the cotton he exposes his ripped forearms and I struggle to swallow. The way the light shines off him as the sinews of his muscles move over each other, the way his ink stands out against the bleached linens. Jesus. A screech of china and scandalised murmurings from the nearby diners pull me back to my senses, just as he’s stretching his neck out.

‘That’s better,’ he murmurs. ‘Awfully stuffy in here.’ He assumes a fake-posh accent, his lip twitching at just a hint of a smile.

Our neighbours might disapprove, but this look is doing it for me.

We pass an easy evening bantering and chatting, enjoying the delicious food and exquisite service despite the pretentious atmosphere.

I’m pleased I followed Josie’s advice to come out with Nate again, to not overthink everything and just see what happens.

It’s weird, when he’s not tormenting me with his outrageous flirting, I actually feel really relaxed with him.

I also feel like a prize melon. Ihadtotally misjudged him.

A couple at a table near us leaves and I check my watch, the swell of disappointment blooming inside. ‘Shit, I have to hustle if I’m going to make the last bus.’

Nate moves his hand to mine, gently stopping me from trying to down my drink. ‘Let me give you a lift home. Then there’s no need to rush.’ His voice is low, seductive.

‘Isn’t it out of your way? Your pub’s about a fifteen minute drive from my place. I don’t want to put you out. You drove last time.’ Nerves are making me ramble.

‘You wouldn’t be,’ he says, simply. ‘Anyway, it’s notmypub. I don’t live there.’

‘You don’t? I thought you … how come you’re always there so late?’

He leans in closer, his woodsy cedar scent teasing my nose. ‘The first couple of times I met you, I was staying there to help out. But I’ve got my own place, with Chunk, actually. In Oldton.’

‘That’s not far from me.’

Eyebrows raised, he gives me an encouraging nod and I find myself nibbling my lip. ‘But youdowork at the pub?’

‘Sometimes.’ He tips his head as if to think. ’A lot of the time, really.’

‘And you also work with Chunk?’

‘Yeah, if he needs it. We’ve got a big project underway at the moment. He keeps asking me to join him and be partners.’ He chuckles as if the thought is preposterous.

I shake my head. ‘Don’t you want to?’

‘Long story.’ He feigns a wince. ‘I’m not sure it’s for me. So, can I give you a lift home now you know I’m not going far?’

‘Sure, thank you.’

‘And, will you stop biting your lip? Giving you a lift is inno wayputting me out, so you don’t need to worry and,’ he lowers his voice to a whisper, ‘we’re in public and I’m finding it very distracting.’

I roll my eyes and break into a laugh. I hate being beholden — being a bother — to anyone. I pride myself on self-sufficiency. But it’s as if Nate sees all this, anticipating and reducing my worries before I’ve even fully formulated them.

We settle up, sharing the bill at my insistence. Emotions coil in my stomach, disappointment the night is coming to an end mixed with apprehension for what might come next. Maybe a goodnight kiss? Maybe more.

Maybe flat out rejection, again.

As the waiter heads away, Nate turns to me. ‘You know what? I don’t think this date should be over yet.’

Not ready to say goodbye, relief makes my chest feel lighter. ‘What do you have in mind?’

He blazes his eyes onto mine as he says, ‘Dancing.’

The thought of being sweaty and close, pushed up againstNate, shoots across my mind and straight to my core. This day is only getting better.

‘That sounds good.’ My lips twist into a smile. ‘I haven’t been for ages.’

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