Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1184(@200wpm)___ 947(@250wpm)___ 789(@300wpm)
Give a bloke some food before you reveal your fetishes. I mean, that’s just polite.
But let’s not forget the man who cried the instant I arrived at the café. I don’t even know why. He just blubbered for thirty minutes till I called him an Uber and sent him home.
With that precedent, a night out with a hot, but exhausted American likely won’t crack the top-three worst dates. But when I catch sight of TJ through the window of The Magpie, yawning wide enough to fit a double-decker bus, I suspect the evening won’t end the way I imagined—with mutual finishing.
Well, there are other uses for mouths.
I go into the packed bar and head straight for his booth, where he’s reading the book he bought. “Usually, it takes a few beers before I bore my dates, so I’m ahead on that count,” I say.
“Sorry about that,” TJ says with a tired laugh as he sets the Wilde aside. “But I assure you, boredom is not the issue.”
“It’s past your bedtime?” I suspect that’s why he’s zonked.
A sheepish look flits across his tired eyes. “That obvious?”
“Yes, but you said it was your first day in London.” I slide onto the dark wood bench across from him. On the wall above us hangs a vintage poster of London from a century ago.
“Who’s the detective now?” TJ counters.
“It’s a useful skill,” I say drily, tapping my temple. “Remembering, that is.”
“Sure is. And hey, if it helps, I haven’t slept in more than twenty-four hours. But thanks for the heads-up that you’re dull.” TJ points to the door. “I’ll just make my great escape right now.”
“I don’t think you’re going to slip away just yet.”
His eyebrows dart up. “And why is that, Just Jude?”
“Oh, I have a nickname already?”
“You made it easy.”
I’d like to make a lot of things easy for him. Like, say, having me when he’s not knackered. “And you’ve made it hard for me to figure out your real name.”
“But you like it that way. Hard,” he says.
I shrug coyly. “I do enjoy a hard man.”
He chuckles, then he holds up a finger for a pause. “One sec.” Grabbing his mobile, he quickly taps something out on the screen.
I peer over the table, intrigued. “Are you taking notes on our conversation?”
“It gave me an idea—what you just said.” He finishes typing and sets his phone down, a little amused with his own notes.
That ratchets up my curiosity. “And, are you going to keep that idea all to yourself, like your real name? Or will you share?”
TJ gives a sly smile. “Depends on what I do with it,” he answers in a tone that says Let’s leave it at that.
Fair enough. I don’t need to push him on his notetaking. People reveal things when they’re ready. But I want him to reveal something to me. I have a hunch about it, but I’ll have to get the answer out of him in a roundabout way. “Great table. Did you get here a while ago?”
“Yeah, I did,” he says, scratching his jaw like he’s playing at “laidback” too. “I mean, I didn’t know how long it would take to walk here from my hotel, or whether the GPS directions are right, or whether The Magpie would be crowded since it’s a Saturday night. So, I showed up a bit early.”
The way he overexplains is endearing, and confirms my hunch that he was as eager to impress me with a good table as I was eager to find him earlier. Call me a glutton for compliments, but I do like knowing when someone’s into me. I can blame my ex for that, I suppose.
“That’s why I didn’t think you’d slip away,” I say. “Who’d want to give up such a great table?”
“Not me,” he adds, as if he’s trying not to smile.
A waitress swings by and asks us our poison. I pick a lager, while TJ opts for an ale. When she leaves, I’m tempted to confess I doubled back to Angie’s to see him again. But if I admit I chased him to the thrift shop, he might put me in an Uber like I’ve blubbered to him.
I’d deserve it.
I play it cool instead, opting for a safer topic. “So, how are you finding London so far?”
He shrugs, all no big deal, but keeps those dark eyes on me. “It’s not so bad. I guess we’ll see if you can keep me up.”
“That’s a tall order. But I think I’m up to the task. I happen to be a scintillating conversationalist.”
“Then, Just Jude, you really should keep scintillating.” Something about the way he says that—all faux naughty—rips a laugh straight from my chest. He cracks up too. “All right. Tell me for real about your first day in my hometown. Besides meeting a fabulous Englishman who has the same tastes.”