Chapter Twenty-Five
Milo was reading a newspaper and nursing a pint. Rambo was sitting on a chair alongside him. He looked like a scaled-down canine version of Lord Muck.
I had no idea how I’d failed to spot this man and his dog prior to placing my food order, but one thing was for sure – they could both go and sit elsewhere.
Bristling, I marched over to the table and cleared my throat.
‘Excuse me.’
Milo looked up and feigned surprise.
‘Are you stalking me?’ he enquired, parodying my earlier comment.
‘You know that’s not true.’
‘So is there another reason why you’re standing at my table impersonating Mr Angry’s wife?’
‘I’m annoyed’ – I enunciated – ‘because you’re sitting at my table.’
Milo opened his eyes wide.
‘ Your table?’
‘Yes. I was going to sit here after placing my food order.’
‘I see.’ He put down his newspaper. ‘And therein lies the answer to this dilemma. So you meant to reserve this table but failed to pop your bag upon its surface, or hang your coat over a chair, to indicate that it was taken.’
‘Are you always so sanctimonious?’
Milo considered.
‘Only when I’m right.’
‘Listen, Miles–’
‘It’s Milo, Lilly.’
‘You really are the most infuriating man.’
‘I could say the same of you.’
‘I’m not a man.’
‘Aren’t you?’ Milo looked astonished. ‘Well, blow me down with a feather.’
‘Listen.’ I dumped my handbag on the tabletop, then shrugged off my jacket. I slung it over the chair opposite Milo. ‘All the other tables are now taken. I’m about to eat my lunch. Whereas you are only enjoying a drink.’ I sat down. ‘So why don’t you take your pint and tootle over to the bar? You can sit on a tall stool and chat to Polly.’
‘I can’t chat to Polly.’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s working.’
‘Then chat to someone else,’ I suggested.
Cindy put her head in my lap. She gave me a beseeching look.
Can you pull out a chair for me? If Sir Rambo can sit at the table, surely I can too?
Milo folded up his newspaper. He set it to one side, then regarded me gravely.
‘It seems I have no choice but to chat to you.’
‘That really isn’t necessary. And anyway’ – I spotted Polly heading over with the bangers and mash – ‘my dinner is here. So… toodle-oo.’
Whereupon Polly set down the bangers and mash in front of Milo. She then placed a smaller plate of chopped sausages in front of Rambo.
‘Here we are,’ Polly cooed. She fluttered her eyelashes and jiggled her breasts. Oh yes, she fancied Milo all right.
‘Thanks, sweetheart,’ he said.
Milo gave her a blowtorch smile. I was amazed it didn’t melt Polly’s false eyelashes. She responded with her best I’ve-just-had-an-orgasm smoulder, before turning to me.
‘I’ll come again in a sec.’
I stared at her blankly.
‘With your dinner,’ she added.
‘Right,’ I croaked. ‘Thanks.’
Bloody hell. The chemistry between Polly and Milo was hotter than the wood burner next to me. On impulse, I picked up my dinner mat and, using it as a fan, cooled myself. Phew. If only I could take off my sweater. However, I’d be down to my bra, so that wasn’t viable. Milo gave me an enquiring look.
‘You were saying?’
I glanced wildly around the pub. Every single table was now taken along with every chair. Even the tall stools at the bar were all occupied. There was nowhere else to sit. Nowhere at all. Apart from here. With this blasted man. Bugger. And now I was going to have to do some swift back peddling and grovel.
I took a deep breath and shut my eyes.
‘Would you mind terribly if I ate my dinner at this table?’
Milo regarded me, thoroughly enjoying my discomfit.
‘What’s the magic word?’
‘Please,’ I hissed.
‘In which case, be my guest, Philly.’