Page 12 of B is for Beg

“You’re not,” Calvin says. “You’re attracted to someone.”

I can pretend he’s talking to me too, even though I haven’t told him that I’m attracted to Blake.

“If we’d met in a bar…” Hamish says, echoing Cal’s words. He sighs and stares around the pub.

Oh dear, Hamish really does have it bad. In all the time I’ve known him, I haven’t seen him this infatuated.

“Maybe the party will help get him out of your system.” I really should take my own advice.

“Or you could tell him how you feel about him,” Cal says. “You’re used to burning through PAs every week anyway.”

“I don’t go through that many.”

“Two a month, then.”

“Cheeky fucker.”

“I was joking earlier,” I say, recalling how I gave Hamish some tongue-in-cheek advice when he was at his mopiest. “But now I’m being dead serious. It’s clear you like him, but you’re also looking for excuses not to act on the way you’re feeling. If you don’t like the idea of having a relationship with someone you have to work with, sack him and then ask him out.”

Unlike Hamish, I don’tneedto tell Blake I’ve changed my mind about hiring him—we’ll only be working together for one shibari session. Once it’s finished… Who am I kidding? When the world is full of gorgeous men like Cal, short, overweight men like me tend to fall by the wayside.

“I think the real problem is that you’ve convinced yourself he’ll say no.” So have I. Screw that mentality. Positive thinking. That’s what Hamish and I need right now. “But you don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling, and you’ll never know unless you ask. So stop making excuses and tell him how you feel.”

I assume Hamish is at least mulling over my words by the way he downs the rest of his pint and then slams the glass on the table. He wipes the froth away from his mouth and beard with the back of his hand.

“Whatareyou going to do?” Cal asks.

I manage to keep my mouth shut. Calisn’ttalking to me.

Hamish shrugs. “Fuck if I know. Let’s talk about something else.” He gestures at us. “Distract me.”

We talk for a while longer, the conversation moving away from Hamish’s PA until he eventually stares at the dregs at the bottom of another empty glass.

“I’m done,” Hamish says. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Did it help?” Cal asks.

“Nope.”

“Do we get points for trying?”

Hamish glares at Cal. “Aye, you can both have fifty points. Knock yourselves out. I’ll see you on Friday.”

I watch him leave and then look at my half-drunk soft drink.

“I’m happy to stay while you finish,” Cal says, even though he hasn’t had a drink for the last half an hour.

“Thanks.” I lift my glass, but instead of drinking, I swill the contents around and watch the way the bubbles cling to the inside of the glass. “Did you notice that Hamish’s PA and our model both have the same surname?”

Cal frowns and then pulls out his phone and a business card. I assume he’s checking the email from Archie. The business card must be Blake’s.

“So they do,” he says. “But Morris isn’t an uncommon surname.”

“No…”

“What are you thinking?”

“Serendipity? The gorgeous model you introduced me to could be related in some way to the PA Hamish is fawning over.”