Page 22 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

‘Oh… so you’re not a student?’

His lips curled into a smile.

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

Lola threw Monty a suspicious look.

‘That would be the destination of the bus.’

‘There are other places en route to the university,’ Lola mumbled quickly. ‘And no, I haven’t taken an exam for almost a decade and I don’t ever plan to again if I can help it. It’s a complete waste of time,’ she muttered those last words under her breath.

Okay, Monty was confused now. But then Lola gave a delayed reaction shudder and let out a little laugh as if she’d inadvertently said too much.

God, she sparkled when she laughed. She was a whole different version of herself today.

Like a diamond revealing another facet of its allure. Monty was here for it.

‘Are you eating in?’

‘Are you grabbing a seat?’

They both asked one another at the same time, momentarily trapped in a mutual gaze of mush.

Lola wiggled her finger about again, this time in the direction of the tables and chairs.

Monty couldn’t help but chew back a grin at the grumpy guy behind the counter whose narrowed eyes he could feel blazing into his side.

What had happened to all the older, kinder, mumsy bakers who used to work here?

Mind you, they’d probably enjoy the vibes he and Lola were generating a little too much.

Lola led the way to the cosy corner table with the plush armchairs and Monty could have spun her around and kissed her.

Not just because she looked dreamy from every angle, her waterfall of tousled, jet-black hair cascading down to her shoulders (it still looked gorgeous even though he now realised she’d had it chopped since the match) and not just because there were actual tables in here as opposed to bathtubs.

There was also nobody to eavesdrop on their conversation in this little nook, and, although this totally wasn’t a date, if he could just compose himself and try not to let random sentences fly out of his mouth unchecked, whilst simultaneously keeping his tongue in, and refraining from going embarrassingly gooey-eyed, maybe, just maybe, he could get it to feel like one.

He placed the tray on the table and waited for Lola to choose her seat, more than a little gutted now, on reflection, that she hadn’t opted for the closer fitting bog standard tables and chairs, which would have made for some excellent thigh rubbing opportunities.

Monty mentally eye rolled himself. To think he called himself a gent.

‘Can you keep a secret?’ he blurted, immediately berating himself for not forward planning his words. There was no way that he could say what he was about to say without it sounding like he was unabashedly showing off.

‘Probably.’

Lola took a sip of her coffee, her huge green eyes peeking above the mug’s rim. Cute and hot. He was in so much trouble. He prayed to a god who he’d not exactly been in the closest of contact with over the years, that this woman hadn’t waltzed into his life again only to waltz back out of it.

‘I’m on my way to sign a contract to play T20 for England,’ he lowered his voice, checking nobody was listening in.

‘Which puts me one step closer to another dream: being on the Olympic team when cricket finally gets back to the games. It’s not official news yet so if it does get leaked, I’ll know it was you. ’

He winked. And if that very same god could give him an electric shock every time he behaved so cheesily, that would be majorly appreciated too. Monty didn’t know what had come over him.

‘Wow. That’s–’ Lola settled her drink on the table, completely unaware of the dialogue going on in Monty’s head.

‘ Congratulations! ’ she shrieked. ‘And my lips are sealed,’ she whispered, then covered her mouth with those sensual-looking hands, which Monty was trying very hard not to imagine roaming his anatomy.

‘Now I feel bad for eating half of the roll.’ But she sliced it in two anyway and tore off a piece, eyeing it dreamily.

‘You deserved the celebration! Seriously, though… cricket’s not currently an Olympic sport but brake dancing is? ’

‘Don’t get me started.’ Monty’s jaw clenched.

‘I have the upmost respect for all sports and athletes but yeah, that definitely stings a little when cricket’s been out of action at the games since 1900, and even then there were just two teams: Great Britain and France.

’ Lola almost choked on her cinnamon roll.

‘Anyway, the sixth of September has turned out to be a very auspicious day after all.’

Monty felt himself drowning in Lola’s discombobulated eyes as he watched her licking her lips. There was something very intimate about a woman eating a sticky bun. He took a giant bite of his to give himself something else to think about.

‘Wait. What?’ She mumbled moments later behind her napkin, patting her lips. ‘Today’s the sixth?’ Lola whispered the number again, just like she had at The Bubble Bath.

‘Yeah.’ Monty laughed nervously. ‘Bit of a coincidence I guess when we’ve never bumped into one another in the city before. Other than those two recent times… which also involved sixes.’

‘Or maybe we have and we just didn’t notice one another,’ Lola tried to sound pragmatic but Monty could tell she was probably thinking along the same lines.

‘I would have remembered you, Lola.’

The words tripped off his tongue unbidden.

Monty’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and he hoped that the final piece of cinnamon roll he’d just swallowed wouldn’t get stuck there.

The silence stretched between them but somehow it wasn’t uncomfortable, even if it must have looked stargazy for the people around them.

The funny thing was, he wasn’t sure if Lola realised she looked as besotted as he felt.

It gave him a quiet boost of confidence.

They really could have been on a date. Why not follow it up with another?

If he could find the right way to ask her out– no, when he could find the right way to ask her out.

He just needed to be patient. Which was kind of tricky when the clock was ticking and he had a career-changing contract to sign.

‘Anyway.’ He vowed to steer the conversation in a more platonic direction before he freaked her out. ‘You haven’t told me why you’re not currently at work in your office.’

Monty was even more confused now as to why Lola had been putting in the hours in a cocktail bar last weekend. But he didn’t want to play detective. Maybe her day job was a part-time one. And who was he to talk? His own role should be full-time.

‘Oh, I am on my way to work. I start late today. Vet’s appointment.’

‘Please don’t tell me you’ve got a snake in your bag.’

Monty pushed his chair back, eyes wide. He didn’t do reptiles. Oh, shit! He was a colossal dickhead to boot. It was befitting but true. If that hadn’t sounded like an innuendo…

‘Definitely not a snake.’ Lola arched a brow. ‘A Squiffy. Obviously she’s back at home now.’

‘What’s… one of those?’

For all he knew it could be the latest brand of house insect and his face must have reflected those thoughts because Lola replied in a couple of questions, suddenly sounding a bit Australian.

‘She’s a cat? My flatmate’s?’

‘Ah. Oh. I see.’ Damn. Monty knew this was too good to be true. There was always a catch. The bloke Lola lived with was clearly so domesticated and in love with her that they were cat parents already. Game over. ‘Interesting choice of name,’ he managed.

‘My female flatmate’s cat.’ Great. His body language was shocking today and Lola had picked up on his jealousy in just four simple syllables.

‘As for the name, I wholeheartedly agree that it’s not the most thoughtful and I’m not really sure that I want to know how it came about because if I discover that Fumiko replied to an ad to take in a rescue cat after she’d drunk a bottle of wine, then my estimation of my roomie would be in the gutter.

’ And now Lola paused to think. ‘Squiffy does somehow suit her title, though.’

‘Good, that’s… absolutely fantastic. I love cats.

Rescues, Manx, Garfield, the Cheshire Cat, Puss in Boots.

I was never allowed pets as a child, you see.

’ Monty fluttered his eyelashes. He was a goner.

‘And now I can’t seem to stop sounding like a cross between Hugh Grant and Bubba Gump. Please excuse me.’

Lola hooted with laughter. Well, that properly broke the ice that seemed to continuously thaw and freeze between them.

‘As long as we’re talking about a young floppy-haired Hugh Grant in his Four Weddings era, because he’s turned into a notoriously grumpy sod nowadays, who is constantly taking a swipe at Colin Firth.’

Monty had seen some of those interviews too, but he knew it was all in jest.

‘Maybe he was deprived of pets.’ Monty cupped a hand to his chin and tried to pretend that he was deep in thought and not trying to take advantage of the situation at all. ‘Which isn’t my way of inviting myself to your apartment when your flatmate is out, by the way.’

Christ, he really was a liability on little sleep.

‘She’s away ninery percent of the time.’

‘That’s marvellous.’ Their eyes met and suddenly the background noise of the café softened, as if everyone else was waiting with baited breath for Lola’s RSVP. ‘I mean… it must be amazing to have the place to yourself.’

The clatter of china, the whirring of the coffee machine, and the variable pitch of chatter regenerated around them.

‘I’m glad you thought better of it and tagged that last bit on because technically I haven’t invited you and nothing has changed as far as my opinion on our differences goes.’

Lola dipped her gaze to her mug. She played with her spoon and a coy smile tugged at her lips. Monty chose to focus solely on the word ‘technically’. So much promise.

‘Ah, yes. I’m notorious for getting ahead of myself.

What can I say? It’s in my competitive aristocratic nature.

’ Another cheesetastic comeback, but frankly Monty had given up on trying to play it cool.

It only seemed to make everything ten times more cringeworthy.

‘So where exactly do you work? You still haven’t told me. ’

Lola let out a deep sigh and Monty braced himself that she was a traffic warden or a taxidermist or a tax collector. All important jobs if you were so inclined.

‘I somehow managed to find myself holed up in a male-dominated greeting card company.’ Now Monty’s eyebrows shot up.

He hadn’t been aware of any such business in Bath and he could imagine that the niche enterprise was a cosy set-up where the turd in the Panama hat was likely to hold court.

Why hadn’t it crossed Monty’s mind before now that he could have been one of Lola’s colleagues?

Somehow he just knew this was the case. Not that this was the moment to bring it up.

‘It wasn’t quite where I’d imagined myself when I was studying for a degree in business management.

But there we go. It pays the bills, it’s just–’

‘What? What is it?’

But Lola seemed reluctant to go on.

‘I’ve shared my secret with you. I promise yours is safe with me.’

He reached across the table to tap her hand in reassurance and briskly pulled it away like an idiot when she reached for her mug.

‘Suddenly my job role has changed. It comes with a pay rise, which is cool, but there’s also the expectation to travel now and then.

The now part of that being imminent. Frankfurt.

Next week. Three nights away– which typically coincide with my flatmate’s never-ending stints abroad– and I’ve no idea what to do with Squiffy.

I really don’t want to take her to a cattery.

She’d hate it. I’m not snubbing them and know that many owners have no choice but to use them.

The top ones are probably like a five star resort, but she’s been through a lot in the past and I don’t want to upset her. ’

‘I’ll look after her!’ It would also give Monty the perfect excuse to find out more about the bastard who’d embarrassed Lola at the match; the bastard who had better not be accompanying her to Frankfurt else– never mind snakes– Monty would be pulling some strings to ensure that a scorpion or two were planted in his hotel bed.

‘Seriously, I’d be glad to help out and you’d unwittingly be giving me the most incredible life experience. ’

‘Oh, no. I didn’t bring it up with a hidden agenda, I swear.’

Lola laughed as if it was the craziest suggestion she’d ever heard.

‘I know you didn’t. I’d really like to help out, though.

And I’d be the perfect solution. I work from home, my training doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, so I can call in regularly and feed Squiffy on a morning and evening sprint.

I can even stay over if it makes things easier.

I won’t get attached.’ Then came a loaded pause.

‘To erm… Squiffy. You’re welcome to do a background check on me.

I’m not an aristocrat, by the way. Just nouveau riche,’ he whispered that part and was elated when Lola giggled.

Maybe, just maybe it would make him seem less daunting.

‘But I realise you might not find me the most convincing of applicants when my childhood was devoid of furry friends. I mean, my sisters had horses and I was fine with those, but my mother refused to have even a hamster in the house.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘How about yes? Unless you have someone else in mind?’

‘I don’t. There’s nobody. Which makes me sound a bit desperate, but I don’t mind admitting that I am.

’ Lola sighed. Monty retracted his earlier thoughts about the confidence boost. Way to deflate a guy’s ego.

‘My friends are always too busy, my mum’s not in great health, my dad can’t handle more worries, the neighbours steal my parcels, and my colleagues are…

Well, they’re just colleagues.’ And arsehats, thought Monty.

‘I know I could get a cat sitter but that would defeat the whole point of the pay rise. They’re not exactly cheap in this city. ’

‘Seriously, Lola. The offer is on the table.’

Monty placed his mug on the table, as if it was a metaphor for a contract.

And then he remembered the time he’d gotten randomly attacked by his school friend’s kitten who’d jumped on his lap and gone on a scratching frenzy.

But he couldn’t let Lola down now. And he’d probably even babysit a family of tigers if it prolonged the excuse to meet up with her.

‘Okay, then. It’s a date… I mean, a deal,’ said Lola, visibly relaxing, much to Monty’s delight. ‘If it doesn’t sound too forward, would you be free tonight? Just to check if you and Squiffy get along?’

‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’