With a resigned sigh, Mia rose to her feet. Her mum was right, not that she’d ever tell her. Sitting here all day, and all night, would lead to a pretty lonely existence. Sure, she didn’t lack friends, she’d talked to both Heather and Gill only a few hours ago, but it was all on the phone. When was the last time she’d spoken to someone face-to-face, other than Stan? Even that conversation had been three days ago, and had revolved around the best local supermarket. According to Stan, the Co-op was the closest, but it was more expensive than Lidl, though neither were as well stocked as Sainsbury’s when it came to ready meals for one.
Yep, she’d officially reached rock bottom.
Walking to the bathroom, she gave her face a cursory glance in the mirror, mainly to check there was no evidence of the tomato sauce she’d shoved all over her sausage and mash dinner. Don’t mock. At least she’d cooked it herself. Satisfied she was clean, if not looking her best – the green dye she’d streaked her hair with had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now looked like someone had emptied grass cuttings over her – she grabbed her trusty black handbag and walked out of the flat.
A few minutes later, she stood, staring, at the bar beneath the flats. It was early June and many people sat outside. The area had a continental feel, with strings of lights wrapped around pots of bay trees and flickering tea lights on tables. A brightly lit sign depicting the name, The Bar Beneath, cast a green light across the space.
Inside was similar; green plants, tea lights, dark wood furniture.
It looked warm, inviting. Yet the laughter, the constant buzz of chatter, the sheer numbers of people … it was intimidating as hell to walk into alone.
The alternative was crappy TV or another chat with Stan. Maybe this time about the residents’ association.
Suck it up.
Squaring her shoulders, she walked up to the bar, slipping onto the only free stool. When she looked up to catch the bartender’s eye, she nearly fell off the ruddy thing.
It was Hot Guy Opposite, far taller than she’d thought, muscles threatening to burst out of his black fitted shirt. Chestnut brown hair, sparkling green eyes.
‘Hey there, welcome to The Bar Beneath.’ Her stomach cartwheeled as he flashed her a smile. White even teeth and dimples. Honest to God, dimples. That wasn’t a smile, it was an invitation to have sex. ‘Luke Doyle at your service. What can I get you?’
Mia swallowed to get the saliva working in her mouth. ‘A bottle of whatever beer you recommend.’
‘Beer?’ For a split second, his smile faltered, before returning in full force. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you into a cocktail?’ Reaching behind him, he grabbed a cocktail shaker and flipped it up in the air, catching it neatly. ‘An Alabama slammer? Black velvet? Campari and soda?’ Another grin. ‘I can go through the whole alphabet.’
There was something about the high-watt smile, the easy bartender chat, that helped Mia relax. Hot Guy Opposite was a fantasy she’d created and yes, Luke looked like the man she’d been ogling across the courtyard, but he was just a guy. And she’d been handling them, one way or another, all her life. ‘Thanks, but I’ll stick with the beer.’
‘Your loss.’ He bent to slide a bottle from the chill cabinet, unscrewed the cap and placed it in front of her. ‘Slice of lemon? Snappy little green umbrella?’ He picked up one and whirled it round with his fingers.
‘Thanks, but no.’ She cocked her head at him. ‘Out of interest, if I’d wanted a cocktail beginning with z?’
‘I’d have mixed you a Zombie. Light rum, dark rum, grenadine, a mix of different juices.’ He winked. ‘Honestly, it’s a right pain to make so I’d probably have told you to pick something else.’
‘What about beginning with x?’
He laughed. ‘Then you’d have had our Xellent martini.’
‘Okay, I’ll take the bait. What’s so excellent about it?’
Another wink. ‘The name.’
She rolled her eyes, and he disappeared off to serve someone else. Mia tried not to feel too self-conscious, but it was hard when she knew people were giving her sideways glances. The girl sitting by herself with odd green streaks in her hair. Belatedly she glanced down at what she was wearing. Crap. She’d not even changed out of her slobbing-at-home outfit; leggings and an oversize shirt.
‘Regretting the beer yet?’ Luke was back, giving her another of those big, Tom Cruise-like smiles.
‘Nope.’ He gave the cocktail shaker he was holding a final shake, and poured a vivid green mixture into a cocktail glass. ‘And now I’ve seen that, definitely no. Is it radioactive?’
He laughed. ‘Well it can scramble your brain, but only if you have too many of them.’ He leant across the bar. ‘Between you and me, it’s a screwdriver, with a dash of blue curacao.’
‘What is it to the customer you’re serving it to?’
‘It’s the house special.’ He nodded towards the brightly lit green sign on the wall behind the bar, and then to the one in the window. ‘Green is our colour, but then you knew that.’
‘I did?’
His eyes skimmed over her. ‘Your highlights were for our benefit, yes?’
His attention was caught by someone at the end of the bar and he murmured an ‘excuse me’ before heading off. And yes, her eyes did stray to his bum. It was … damn, it was perfect. No wonder the clientele were mainly female. The sexy, flirty bartender was a total cliché, but it also worked. Even if she didn’t talk to anyone else all evening, already this was better than sitting on her own in her flat.
Luke served the next customer quickly, keen to get back to the newcomer. There was something about her that appealed. She wasn’t his type – he tended to go for tall, slender women who dressed up to go out, and who flirted back – but she intrigued him. Turning up to a bar by herself, dressed in clothes she might have gone to bed in, not a trace of make-up, she was … unusual. Different from the women he saw in the bar most nights.
And he’d enjoyed sparring with her.
Indicating to Mateo, currently picking up empties from the tables, that he wanted him to take over at the bar, Luke headed back to the girl with the green stripes in her hair.
‘Ready for something radioactive yet?’
Her gaze jumped to his and she smiled. ‘I like my brain unscrambled, thank you.’
Freckles. How had he not noticed them earlier? A cute dusting of them across her nose. Bending to pick up a beer from the fridge, he twisted off the cap. ‘Mind if I join you?’
‘Aren’t you supposed to be working?’
He grinned. ‘The boss is very understanding.’
She angled her head, scrutinising him, and he wondered what was going on behind those big blue eyes. He was used to being appraised by women, but usually it was accompanied by a flirty smile and a glint in their eye. Not this sober appraisal. ‘Let me guess,’ she said finally. ‘You’re the understanding boss.’
He laughed. ‘Why do I get the feeling nothing gets past you?’
A cloud seemed to cross her face. ‘That would be great, if it was true.’ Her eyes fell to the beer bottle and she wiped at a drop of water before glancing back up at him. ‘So how long have you worked here?’