Page 27 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Monty

Monty was relieved he’d waited to do things on Lola’s terms. The call across the miles had been epic.

Totally worth the risk. He’d yearned to jump into his phone and teletransport himself to Frankfurt so he could sit with her as he listened to all she’d been through.

It was a lot . For the moment he would have to console himself that he’d earned her trust. It felt amazing.

Julian had better never set foot on English soil again, though. He might be on another continent to Lola right now, but the guy made his skin crawl. And that Harry sounded like an absolute pushover of an enabler who was now backpedalling like mad to keep hold of his best member of staff.

As for Monty, he was far from perfect himself.

He couldn’t keep living this lie. He’d so wanted to confide in Lola the other night but even if the opportunity had arisen, once she found out what his parents were like, there was no way she’d agree to the party– when he eventually plucked up the courage to invite her to it.

Why did life have to be so obstinately difficult?

His father was turning into the most despicable creature.

It was hard to know if Frederick was calling his bluff but Monty would be damned if he was coming up with ideas to distract the consumers.

He wasn’t a publicist or a troubleshooter.

Why should his department have to pick up the slack?

He was being punished for slogging that damn ball in the match.

That’s what this boiled down to. It would have been a whole different ball game– and here the pun was intended– if he’d been playing traditional cricket as opposed to T20…

or ‘pyjama cricket’, as his father often referred to it on account of the bright colours the players wore.

Well, for want of a better way of putting things, two could play that game.

Monty rang the doorbell to Lola’s apartment on Friday afternoon, hesitantly going in for a cheek kiss. Just the one. He could feel the heat radiating from his body as his lips brushed her soft face and wished they could have done more. Thankfully, Lola didn’t push him away.

‘What’s all that stuff on your back?’ she asked as she took in the sight of him.

‘Oh, no.’ Lola covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes projecting the horror she was currently feeling.

‘We’re playing cricket ? Couldn’t somebody else step in?

Look at me.’ She did an inventory of her outfit, sweeping her gaze from side to side across her body and down to her feet. ‘I’m really not dressed for sport.’

But she was utterly gorgeous in her long, red paisley sundress and navy baseball boots, a midriff-skimming denim jacket completing the look.

‘It’s just a casual bowling and batting session.

I promise.’ Monty peered over his shoulder in case he’d unwittingly given someone a piggyback.

But no. It was just a bloody massive bag full of kit.

‘Most of the team are on holiday and my family and colleagues are only vaguely interested in what I do. So, a bit like the Squiffy scenario, you’re the only one I can trust.’ Monty threw his palms up devil-may-care style.

‘And I know that it probably sounds like I’m inventing excuses to spend time with you, but I had to drop the keys off.

’ He rummaged around in his pocket and dropped them into an unconvinced Lola’s hand, giving himself brownie points for not touching her skin.

‘Honestly, Lola, I’m scared I’ll get rusty and ruin everything if I don’t get out this week and put in a bit of practice.

Even the training nets can’t be booked as London is on holiday. ’

‘Wh-where exactly will this session be taking place?’

Lola narrowed her eyes, one hand grabbing the doorframe.

‘Only over at Victoria Park. There’s always a quiet space. Nobody will bother us. I wanted to take you to the stadium for a knock about on the pitch but I didn’t want it to trigger you.’

‘Thanks.’ She loosened her grip. ‘I’m not sure I could have faced those security guards without swinging the bat at them and making even more of a name for myself.

Although, it’s come to my attention that every woman in the UK is currently after a certain dress.

Go figure!’ She laughed sarcastically. ‘I really wish I’d studied psychology sometimes. ’

‘Lola, none of that was your fault. And yeah, well, what can I say? Nobody rocks a frock like you do.’ Monty raked a hand through his hair and looked at her in earnest. He meant every word.

She was so bloody gorgeous, and seemingly unaware of it.

Poles apart from the every vain woman he’d been with before.

‘I’d do anything to turn back time. I’d have abandoned the match and been right there by your side. You must know that.’

‘I know. We talked about it at quite some length the other night! But I wouldn’t have let you even if I wasn’t aware of how much was hinging on the match. Actually, that sexy print of you was kind of with me when–’

Lola stopped in her tracks.

‘Did you just refer to my stadium poster?’

Monty held a finger up and began to blink rapidly, glad that Squiffy was not in his orbit, lest he freak out his new friend with completely the wrong body language.

‘No, no.’ Lola blushed, spilling a nervous giggle. ‘Figment of your imagination.’

‘Okay, well, the other night was the best conversation I’ve ever had. Panama hat prick aside,’ Monty about-faced, not wanting to get ahead of himself but, damn, he knew what he’d heard.

It was unofficially official. Lola found him sexy! He hated that poster in the corridor with a passion, though. They’d better let him re-do his photo for the stat intros they’d be showing on all the future televised games. Preferably without him looking so smug.

‘It was a totally one-sided conversation and I can only apologise again for bombarding you with my stuff . I can’t even really blame alcohol. All I had was a mini bottle of champagne. You’ll have to fill me in on your life story as we walk.’

‘No fair.’ Monty shook his head and smiled knowingly, relieved to have come up with an excuse to procrastinate a little longer. ‘I’ll be needing me some champagne as well for that.’

He winked in response to Lola’s frown. She locked the front door and they stepped out onto the pavement, trading a lingering look that was loaded with the unspoken.

She blew at her fringe and her hair fell just so, conveniently covering her eyes.

He’d take that as his cue to make platonic smalltalk.

He was getting ever finer attuned to the ebb and flow of their connection, adept at reading the subtle– and not so subtle– hints.

Victoria Park was a bit of a trek from Lola’s place, and it was a bit crazy walking the streets of Bath feeling like a giant tortoise as he and Lola swapped stories about the city and pointed out their favourite haunts.

Monty was relieved when they finally arrived and he could shuck off his bag and shrug his shoulder muscles.

He should have brought his plastic portable wicket but it looked like a child’s toy and he’d wanted to impress.

The real deal was deceptively heavy when you factored in the rest of the kit.

He got the rest of his paraphernalia out then did some lateral squats as Lola watched on, hands on hips.

She had no clue how motivational she would be as a fitness instructor.

He’d do a thousand push ups for her if it meant he’d get to look into those deep green eyes.

Lola Smith would never need fake eyelashes.

Not that Monty considered them a necessity for anyone.

But Lola’s made a mockery of all the beauty industry’s attempts.

‘My other thought was that we could practise in my garden,’ he said when he’d got his breath back. ‘But I didn’t want to annoy the neighbours.’

‘I see.’

Lola furrowed her brow, puzzled.

‘Yeah, it’s a bit of a weird set up. Not a commune as such, but–’

‘Are you trying to entice me back to your place in a similar manner to the way you invited yourself to mine? Not sure I do cults, Monty.’

Lola took off her jacket, looped it over the low branch of the oak behind them, and slanted herself against the tree trunk.

If only Monty had kept up his artistic skills instead of feeling as if he’d regressed back to drawing stick men, he’d have captured her in an oil painting titled Extreemely Perfect .

Was he that transparent, though? He turned his back to busy himself putting on his protective gear.

It was mean of him to give Lola the impression that he lived in a hippie-dippie clan.

But the Crescent did come with a long list of community rules.

He might not be blue-blooded but he kind of knew how the major royals felt.

The C-shaped architecture wasn’t so different to another C: the Crown.

No wonder it had the word Royal in its formal name; the Crescent had to be preserved at all costs.

Including its velvety green front garden.

‘I don’t have any pets that need sitting, so not exactly,’ he mumbled, strapping his pad to his thigh and securing the helmet to his head.

His garb was probably a braggy charade when he was knocking a ball about with a beginner.

Then again, Lola was a mystery. That catch the first day he’d laid his eyes on her had been a peach.

‘And I’m not going to get ahead of myself yet but I wondered if you might be up for dinner tonight?

As a thank you for doing this?’ He turned now, his facial expression shielded by his helmet.

Which was totally fair dos when Lola kept hiding behind that beguiling fringe.

‘It’s quite tiring. You’ll need the sustenance. ’

‘But I’m doing this to thank you for minding Squiffy.’ Lola bit her lip in contemplation. ‘So where will it ever end if we keep thanking one another for thanking one another?’