9. CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 9
“ I ’m taking you to dinner tonight,” Taylor announced as he walked towards the changing room with Clara after another day of following her around the operating theatre.
“You don’t need to,” Clara said, shaking her head. Exhaustion still tugging on her from her busy week.
“I know I don’t need to. I’m asking you if you want to go to dinner with me,” he drawled, bumping shoulders with her.
Clara’s steps faltered as a zing of electricity shot through her. She rubbed her arm as she tried to work out what bizarre world she lived in that a movie star wanted to take her on a date.
She quickly caught herself; this wasn’t a date; this was just Taylor taking her to dinner to thank her. She shushed the quiet voice that said it would be nice to go on a date with him.
She hadn’t been on a date in so long. Jack used to tell her it was a total waste of money, that they lived together anyway, and they didn’t need to go out for dinner when they could sit at home together, and she could cook for them.
And go shopping on the way home from work for the food, even though he had been sitting at home all day doing nothing. Then, he would complain that she hadn’t made an effort to make herself look nice when they sat down to eat.
It boiled her blood now she thought about it; however, at the time, she had just accepted it and let him walk all over her.
It turned out Jack loved going on dates and let Clara finance them, but he wasn’t taking her; he was taking the girl he now appeared in magazines with.
Yup, she had been paying for the daughter of a billionaire to be taken to nice places. And was still paying that debt off with her blood, sweat, and tears as she worked all hours to get out of the hole he had left her in.
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’d—“ Clara was cut off when one of the other doctors rounded the corner and spoke.
“I’ve booked the table. I’ll see you tonight,” Mike said, his eyes flickering towards Taylor.
“Oh, brilliant. Thanks, Mike. I’d forgotten. I’ll see you later.” Clara confirmed, then felt Taylor step away from her.
Glancing up, she saw him staring down at her, a small frown tugging at his eyebrows.
“Great. I’ll see you at the pub.” Mike waved and strode away.
“You have plans with your,” Taylor hesitated, looking after the man who had just walked away, “boyfriend?”
Clara sputtered with laughter, “Mike isn’t my boyfriend.”
“Date?”
“Nope. Not that either. It’s the local pub quiz tonight. A group of us go regularly. It’s usually fun. We’re dreadful and always lose badly. But it’s a good night out.”
“Oh, I guess I should go back to my hotel and change into some clean clothes,” Taylor muttered and started walking again.
“Okay. No worries. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Clara said hesitantly and felt her stomach drop.
She wanted to go to dinner with him. Of course she wanted to go to dinner with him; every woman in the country wanted to go to dinner with him. Even if it was just a thank you, not a date.
“If you want to come to the pub quiz, you’re more than welcome.” The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them. Why would someone who lived a life of glitz and glamour want to come to the local pub quiz?
“That sounds great!” Taylor immediately responded.
“You want to come to a pub quiz?” Clara sounded doubtful.
“Yeah.” He nodded.
“You know it’ll be a bit shit, don’t you?”
“I assumed it would be.” His nodding became more enthusiastic.
“Right. Okay then. You’re coming with us. You, the most famous man on the planet, are going to come and sit in the local pub. And do a quiz,” Clara said in disbelief.
“If you don’t want me to come, it’s okay,” he faltered, and his eyebrows pulled down.
“No, you can come,” she answered quickly, probably too quickly and had to stop herself from grabbing his arm to reassure him that she wanted him there.
“Great.”
“You know you’ll get mobbed,” she blurted, gesturing to his face, which was currently covered by a surgical mask and thick-rimmed glasses. “Even if you put a hat on, I don’t think that’ll disguise you.”
Taylor was silent for a minute, and then a grin so broad that Clara could tell he was smiling, even with a mask on, split his face.
“Leave that with me. No one will recognise me. What time does it start?”
“Eight. At the Railway tavern.”
“Awesome. Do you want a ride to the pub?” He checked the time on his phone. “I should have time to go to my hotel and get back.”
Clara hesitated before she shook her head. She was working Thursday anyway, so would just drive. “No, it’s all good. I’ll meet you there, so you don’t have to rush.”