Page 25 of Sweeper
“What’ll it be?”
“My usual.”
“Zander, you’ve only ordered in here twice…I have no clue what your usual is.”
He licks his lips, and his eyes drift down my body like he wants me to be his usual. When he finally drags his eyes to meet mine, he flashes a devilish grin that makes my stomach tighten. “I’ll have the fish and chips and a beer.”
Ignoring Phoebe’s blatant gawking in my peripheral, I ask, “Don’t you have a game tomorrow?” My traitorous eyes drift down his fit body as well.
Zander nods. “We play Manchester City.”
“Is a beer really a good idea then?” I grab a pint glass and begin filling his draft. “Also, it’s just Man City. You don’t have to say Manchester.”
He shrugs. “Well, it doesn’t matter because I won’t be playing against them, so a beer and some bar food aren’t going to hurt me. But thanks for worrying about me, Ducky. It means a lot.” He shoots me a wink.
“Ducky?” Phoebe sputters, and I cut her a murderous look before redirecting my attention to Zander.
“I’m not worrying about you,” I reply through clenched teeth as I hand him his beer. “I’ll put your food order in.”
“Thanks.” He shoots Phoebe a wink before turning to find a table, and I try to ignore the fact that I’m bothered that he winked at both of us.
Phoebe turns to me with grave eyes. “It’s a good thing you don’t fancy him because I’m going to shag that bloke senseless.”
“No, you’re not,” I stammer, my face heating as I try to come up with a plausible reason my friend can’t sleep with a man I don’t have a thing for. “I mean…you can’t. He’s my neighbor. It’d be awkward.”
“Not for me.” She eyes him like a piece of steak while jealousy surges through me. “I’ll just go introduce myself since you so rudely didn’t.”
“Don’t!” I say too quickly and flinch at the volume of my tone, and my cheeks heat with mortification. Phoebe can get any man eating out of her palm within seconds, and the idea of those two together causes a strange pit to form in my stomach.
Phoebe smiles. “I knew you were lying. You fancy the shit out of him.”
“He’s a footballer.” I roll my eyes. “And he’s annoying.”
“The best ones always are.” She tilts her head, and her eyes lock on me like a couple of laser beams. “I can see the hamster wheel spinning in your brain, Daph.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re overthinking like you always do.” She shakes her head, a look of judgment marring her striking features. Phoebe leans across the bar and thrusts her finger in my face. “That little dimple on your chin is showing, and that thing only shows up when your brain is moving a mile a minute.”
“My brain is focused on these glasses,” I lie, holding up one I just finished wiping down.
“Bollocks,” she scoffs and turns to stare at Zander. “And I know exactly what you’re thinking. But no one said you had to marry the footballer. We decided after Rex the Hex, you need to be on a relationship hiatus.”
Just the mention of Rex’s name causes a chill to run up my spine. And not the good kind of chill. The kind of chill that makes your nose wrinkle and your body feel like it wants to shit and vomit at the same time. Goodness, why am I having to think about him so much? It’s been a year since I’ve laid eyes on the arsehole, and now, I’ve had to think about him twice in two weeks.
This is not good.
The last time thoughts of Rex were running nonstop in my head, I couldn’t write or record music for weeks. Which meant I had no money coming in, so my big plan to move to London to find myself and be a successful, independent musician living on my own turned into my brother hiring me as his building manager because he felt sorry for me.
Thankfully, working odd jobs for my dad’s furniture business all these years made me qualified for the job. But it still wasn’t enough. And I refused to let Hayden cover all my rent. That was when I decided to get a job at Old George to have some type of income.
But all this means my plate is full, and I don’t need another manwhore turning my life upside down, especially with this big jingle opportunity that’s just landed on my lap.
“This is the perfect situation for you, Daphney. A footballer is not boyfriend material in any capacity. Footballers are for fun, not for relationships. And if anyone deserves a little fun, it’s you.”
“Well, I don’t have time for fun right now, so none of this even matters,” I retort and attempt to relax my tight grip on the pint glass before it breaks. I take a deep breath and look over at where Zander is sitting playing on his phone. As if he can sense me looking, he glances over, so I quickly avert my eyes.
Phoebe drops her chin. “Everyone should make time for fun.”
