Page 33 of Hit For Six (Balls and Banter #1)

‘I know when I’m being played, Mr B-C. You, on the other hand, couldn’t convince a casting director to give you a part in a movie, sitcom or drama as an influencer.’

Lola shook her head pitifully.

‘All right. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.’

Monty sighed and tried not to look defeated. He’d failed epically to recreate any intimacy between them, despite the fleeting moments at the park and during the meal. Lola had made it clear that she wanted nothing more than friendship. And there didn’t seem much guarantee of that.

Now, for sure, he’d have the joys of the party and all the nonsense matchmaking that went with it. He truly was at his wits end. Not that he was using Lola to get his folks off his back. That would have simply been a very pleasant cherry on the cake.

There was only one thing he could say in his defence:

‘I know it wasn’t long ago, but do you ever wonder what would have happened if those annoying people hadn’t barged into me and sent me hurtling towards the wall, completely ruining the moment?

How the rush of that kiss would have felt, what it would have done to us, the way it might have made it impossible not to pursue things romantically? ’

Lola went silent again and Monty braced himself. It was obvious she was going to spell it out louder than ever before, telling him to fuck right off. He couldn’t help himself, though and his ‘motivational spiel’ continued to fly off his tongue:

‘The thing is… it’s not the dress or what happened to it that brought us together.

You would still have caught the ball and I would still have been heart stoppingly captivated.

Our paths would still have crossed at The Bubble Bath…

then again fighting over a certain cinnamon roll.

Don’t you see?’ He looked her in the eye, hoping he wasn’t making too big a prick of himself.

‘You and me meeting, it was meant to be. The serendipity of the number six. The ultimate roll of the di.’

‘Maybe. Unless you’re playing Monopoly in which case twelve would be more fortuitous.’

‘Minor detail. And besides, I hate that game and its obsession with hoarding and wealth.’

His pulse ratcheted up a notch. That wasn’t a yes, but it wasn’t a no.

Did this mean he was still in with a chance?

He’d do anything to prove his worth and to try to convince Lola that their different backgrounds didn’t matter.

Because that was the past and this was the here and the now and they could be whoever they damn well chose to be at this age, in this time and place.

Why shouldn’t they see if they could have a future together?

‘What if we-?’ he barely whispered, not daring to register his urgency.

Her eyes panned the vista either side of them. Monty despaired. Unless, unless Lola was looking for reasons to scream no but she couldn’t find any? She exhaled deeply and he braced himself.

‘Oh, god, Monty!’ Lola screwed her eyes shut.

‘I can’t do this any more. It’s the worse kind of torture…

and… and… and … we know how blimming amazing it would be because we keep forgetting that we kind of have done it already.

’ Now she opened one eye, wincing at her outburst. But it was breathtaking.

Literally. Oscar-worthy too. Or whatever the awards were for musical theatre.

Monty needed to look into that. He wanted to know everything about this new world that he might be about to step into.

He was dizzy with lust, clueless as to how he could keep any semblance of cool about his persona for a second longer.

‘I can assure you that I have not forgotten how blimming amazing it was, sweetheart.’ He paused to take stock of the delightfully apparent change in his life situation, his heart hammering. ‘Can I call you sweetheart?’

But before he could say another word, Lola pulled him into her and the city spun around them, just as Monty had sensed it was about to the other night.

Was this really happening?

There was no rain tonight but there didn’t need to be.

The weir roared behind in the distance as if to congratulate them with all its ferocity for finally getting it on.

Monty snuggled Lola even closer to him, his breath hot with desire, his lips trailing up the side of her neck, hitting sensitive parts that elicited delicious giggles.

‘Kiss me, dammit!’ she shouted, blissfully unaware of any of their onlookers.

‘Well, okay then, Madam.’ He nuzzled her ear. ‘If you put it like that, I suppose I could.’

Slowly he tilted her chin until their lips brushed, a thunderclap running down his spine as their mouths met, tongues twisting, pulses racing.

His hands slid inside Lola’s denim jacket so he could feel the curve of her body beneath her dress, fingers splaying to cover her hips, claiming as much of her as he dared in public, pressing himself against her pubic area as discreetly as he could.

And then they both lost it as the kiss deepened, taking on the power of the crashing water behind them.

They could have been standing at Niagara Falls.

It was exhilarating. The headiest moment of his life.

Monty lost sense of everything. He wasn’t one for being sentimental but he’d honestly never experienced a kiss like this and he knew that he never would again.

Lola was the home he’d been searching for all his life.

Flashes of their future possibilities whizzed through his mind as they sought to find new ways to keep closing what little gap there was between them.

Monty couldn’t wait to take this to the bedroom.

Finally, he and Lola came up for air, sensing the unimpressed critique of the passers-by. Or more accurately, there were only so many times they could be told to ‘get a room’ and choose to ignore that request, without getting pelted with Sally Lunn buns, or the equivalent.

‘I blame that wretched Bridgerton series for putting wild ideas in young people’s heads,’ commented a lady of senior years as she tottered past them with her cohort and their matching chihuahuas.

‘And I think that’s us told,’ said Monty through gritted teeth.

Lola giggled as he tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

‘But they have got a point. In the current era, we make horny French teenagers look angelic and I just know we’re going to have even more fun without an audience.

Your place or mine? I’m erm… not being too brazen, am I? ’

She flashed him the sexiest of smiles just as he started to panic that he’d dreamt the last five minutes and was now courting disaster.

‘I think it’s about time that I saw what your place is all about.

Lola threaded her hand through his. It felt so right.

He swore there and then that for as long as they were together– which, frankly, he hoped was for a bloody long time– he’d cherish her.

‘I hate to spoil the moment, but when we’re so close to Daniel Street, shouldn’t I grab some PJs and my wash bag? ’

‘You are so adorably practical.’ He planted a lingering kiss on her lips, and smiled a stargazy smile, registering the dilation of her pupils.

‘But that depends on whether you can bear putting things off for.’ Monty stopped and started adding things up on free fingers.

‘Ten minutes there, five for a grope en route, another twenty for you to gather all your bits and for me to stop trying to have my wicked way with you in your purple bedroom.’

‘Hey, how do you know that’s my bedroom?’ Lola gasped. ‘Did you pick the lock when you were cat sitting?’

‘Someone might have done some musical theatre homework while you were in the ladies about an hour ago.’

‘Might they now?’

Lola beamed and somehow Monty could tell that just as she was the first woman to take a genuine interest in his sport, he was the first guy to take a proper interest in her passion.

But how could he not when he saw the way it made her shine?

Just like a game of T20 stirred Monty’s soul.

He was going to dive straight into this era complete with its brand new experiences.

He already loved cats, for goodness’ sake. Oh, that was a point…

‘What about sweet little Squiffy?’

‘Monty, you’re obsessed!’