Page 40 of Hearts Colliding
His nan, cutting up huge slices of bread and cheese for a couple of doorstop sandwiches, tutted. “She’s gone to see your dad. Things to sort out. Been gone since early. You haven’t noticed because you’ve been distracted all—”
Ryan’s phone pinged another text and he pulled it out, his nan forgotten. A pang of disappointment. Not Alex, but a friend, asking if he fancied a weekend in Bristol… There was one thing he fancied, but it wasn’t that.
“See what I mean?” Eva looked pointedly at his phone, which he stuffed back into his pocket.
“Sorry, Nan.” He gave her his best puppy dog eyes, which weren’t very puppy dog at all, but it was all that was needed to do the trick as she gave him a toothless grin before she sat down and started to gum her way through her sandwich. Taking a seat opposite her, he bit into his own.
“Not surprised you’re distracted, with Alex Love on your mind.”
Ryan choked, coughing hard and loud. He jumped up and grabbed a glass of water at the sink. Thank god his back was to her. Yes, he was distracted all right, and there was no way he wanted her perceptive, sharp eyes to look into his and see exactly why that was. Taking another glug of water, he returned to the table.
“Yes, he’s very distracting.”Whoa…“The fight to stop the development, I mean. It’s a lot of work, alongside helping to run the pub. Talking of which, we need to start planning some autumn promotions.” He waited for her to take the bait.
“You’re right, it is, on top of everything you put into making the old place the success it is. I’m so happy you want to carry on the family legacy.” She leant across and squeezed his hand. “It can be relentless. Sometimes, I think you need a bit more from life. You know, get to meet somebody.”
Ryan stopped chewing and swallowed. Oh, god. Were they going to have The Boyfriend conversation? Ever since his oldest friend Joss had got together with Oliver, his nan had been on a mission — a quiet and subversive mission, or at least most of the time — to find him 'A Boyfriend’. He could almost hear the quote marks around the words, and he’d become adept at dodging the regular missiles she fired at him. Secretly, he found it mildly amusing, but as her steady gaze fixed on his, it was no longer quite so funny.
But I have met somebody, Nan.
The words tingled on his lips but he wouldn’t say them, wouldn’t risk the disbelief, hurt, and anger he’d see in her eyes. But most of all he wouldn’t say the words because this — whatever it was — that shouldn’t be happening with Alex was too new, too fragile, too knotted up and complicated to drag out into the light.
“Percy from the computer shop, he’s such a nice lad.”
Ryan stared at his nan. Had he heard right? She was trying to match him up with…Percy? His laughter was a burst dam, and tinged with hysterical relief.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.” Eva huffed. “He’s not a bad looking boy, and he’s seeing a doctor about getting his eye fixed. I think it’d be nice if you found yourself a young chap, that’s all.”
“Oh, Nan.” Ryan came around the table and hugged her close, kissing the top of her newly coloured pink and purple streaked hair. “Honestly, I’m happy as I am. When I’ve met the right man, I’ll know. But it won’t be Percy.”
She pulled out of his hug. “It was just a thought. I could see all those free computer repairs in our future. There’ll be your Mr. Right out there for you, because you’re a catch. You’re good looking, smart, you’ve a good business head on your—”
“Nan.” It sounded like she was compiling a list to upload to a dating website.
“All right,” she grumbled. “In other words, stop meddling. But I wouldn’t be much of a nan if I didn’t try to steer you right, would I? You’re spot on about one thing, though. When you meet the right person, you’ll know it. In here.” She touched her chest. “And you’ll want the world to know it, too.” Making her way out of the kitchen, Ryan stared after her, the words ringing in his ears long after she’d gone.
What if I already have?But as for letting the world know, he wasn’t sure he had the courage.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
Alex twisted the salt and pepper pots, his gaze constantly flicking towards the door. Ryan wasn’t late, it was him who was early. Way too early.
He’d been twitchy all morning, snapping at his PA over the phone, demanding changes to the appointments in his diary, challenging as to why she hadn’t sent this report for his review, that document for his signature. Didn’t she know he had multiple projects, all of them on the go at once? He’d slammed the phone down, knowing he’d been an unreasonable arsehole. He wasn’t usually like that, or at least he hoped he wasn’t, as he’d made a call to have flowers sent as an apology.
Glancing at his watch, he’d still had at least two hours before he was due to meet Ryan, but his concentration had been shot and the need to get out had sent him all but running for the shower followed by a long dither over what to wear.
A warm weight pressed itself against his leg. He looked down and met Henry’s big brown eyes, and some of the tension leeched out of him.
“You make sure you’re a good boy, okay? I need you to be on your best behaviour.”
Henry wagged his tail.
Alex looked up as the door jangled open, his sharp intake of breath holding for a second before he let it go. Not Ryan, but a middle-aged couple.
He ran a finger over the cuff of his shirt. The pale blue silk was the same colour as his eyes, somebody had once said. A pair of black jeans and a black leather bomber jacket completed the look. It was a lunch date, that was all. No need to get too dressed up.
A date. He swallowed hard and beckoned for the waitress. Another sparkling mineral water, something to slake his dry throat, and to turn around and around between his hands, a change from the seasoning pots.
The drink arrived and Alex swirled it, the ice and lemon bobbing up and down in the bubbly water. A date. He hadn’t had one of those in… He couldn’t quite remember. Dates had always scared the hell out of him. He’d never quite caught on to the ritualistic dance, misjudging the steps as he stumbled along, falling over his figurative feet. Anonymous, fleeting meetings with strangers were so much easier. Not that he’d had many of those in recent months, either.
