“Thanks for the lift,” Steve said as Lydia pulled up outside the house. The journey had ended too quickly. He wanted to sit in the car longer, but knew that would be just plain weird. But he had to ask her out. Shouldn’t he? He couldn’t believe how his heart rate had increased with the anxiety. He worried sweat was beading along his hairline.
“No problem,” Lydia replied. She glanced at him then looked at the road ahead, hands still clutching the steering wheel as if to drive off any minute. Was she eager for him to get out of the car?
Then hesitantly she turned to face him, and they spoke at the same time, “Stuart—”
“Lydia—”
“Oh, you first.” She blushed.
“No, you. Ladies first and all that.”
She took a deep breath. “I was wondering…um…if you’d like to go for a drink?” The last of her words spilled out quickly, Steve had to concentrate for a moment to register what she’d asked.
“Wow, okay.”
“Not right now, tonight. But another night? If you’re not busy…” She nervously tucked her hair behind her ears, and drummed the steering wheel, as though she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
Steve shook his head, smiling. “I’m not busy. I’d love to.”
“Oh, great.” Then she frowned, her excitement lost. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh, uh, I was going to ask you the same thing.” He laughed.
“Right, well, uh…what night?”
“Tomorrow?” He winced at her surprise. “Too keen?”
She giggled. “What about Thursday?”
“Thursday is cool.” Three days away. Could he wait three days? “So am I taking you out, or are you taking me out?” he teased.
“Oh, I’ll pick you up.”
“No, I’ll come get you.”
“But you don’t have a car.”
“I can borrow Ruby’s.”
“But I asked you.”
“Only because you beat me to it.”
She giggled. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?” Steve pulled a face. He knew her weakness, he could put on the smile and sparkly-eye look, and Lydia would be Play-Doh.
She shook her head, giggling. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.”
Steve planted a swift kiss on her cheek, and strolled to the front door, his insides wanting to burst with excitement. Hell, he was thirty-five, not a spotty teenager, but he had a date with Lydia, and she’d asked him.
“Someone’s happy,” Ruby said, poking her head around from the kitchen.
“I’ve got a date with Lydia.”
“For a minute there I thought you were going to say Alice, and she’s a bit vain. Two vain people in a relationship, not good.”
“I’m not vain.” Steve resisted the urge to glance in the mirror hanging in the hallway.
“Have you seen how long it takes you to do your hair in the morning?”
“That’s because a certain sister insisted I have spiky hair.” Steve followed Ruby through to the kitchen, and breathed the cooking smell of tomatoes, garlic and herbs. “Oh, smells good. I’m starving.”
“It’s my version of spag bol. I’ve had mine, yours is simmering. Just bringing the pasta up to the boil now.” She handed Steve a glass of red wine. “Sit. I’ll dish it up.”
She brought out the food, with heaps of parmesan, and placed it in front of Steve. His stomach grumbled with emptiness. Ruby sat at the table nursing a red wine while Steve ate.
“So do you like Lydia?”
Steve nodded and swallowed. “Yes, why?”
Ruby shrugged. “No reason. I just hoped she’d be your cup of tea.”
“We haven’t gone out yet.”
“But you get along at work.”
“Yeah.”
“Better than Alice.”
He hardly saw Alice to be fair, tucked away down at the spa. On the one date they’d had together, it certainly hadn’t left him wanting to see her more. He took that as a sign, following his gut instinct.
Ruby gestured around her chin, and Steve wiped bolognaise sauce off his face. “Yeah, Alice and I don’t have a lot in common – or at least I run out of things to talk about with her. She reads glossy magazines not books. She’s into manicures, pedicures and stuff like that – obviously. It’s her job.” Ruby gave him a disapproving expression. “She’s not that bad. Don’t believe everything Callum tells you,” Steve said sternly, finding himself repeating Alice’s own words, wanting to defend her.
As for Lydia…inside he felt like an excited child, his birthday and Christmas had come at once; he was going on a date with her. Why did that sound so good in his head?
Act cool. Super-cool. Fonzie cool…hmmm…Did Ruby have any old videos of Happy Days hanging around?
***
Lydia sat at her breakfast bar in her small kitchen, drinking tea and sketching, her dinner plate pushed aside. Pencils, paper, and various art materials sprawled across the surface. Her fingertips were now blackened with pencil smudge as she worked on another portrait in her favourite Moleskine notepad. Stuart’s face embedded in her brain meant she could easily close her eyes, imagine his handsome profile and then draw it. She’d spent the past few weeks, since his arrival at the hotel, taking sneaky peeks while he was working to draw him. It started when she’d been trying to give one of her characters those eyes, but she couldn’t stop at his eyes, ending up doing a new portrait of Stuart. She loved his profile. The strong jawline and cheekbones.
She’d never known an instantaneous crush before – well not since she was sixteen – but this was it. Could this be the love at first sight sort of thing people talked about?
He had a wonderful smile, and gorgeous, bright blue eyes that held her mesmerised. She fell under a spell if she looked at them for too long, like Mowgli when Kaa, the rock python, turned on his charm in the Jungle Book. Only the other day, while working on a painting, trying to get those beautiful blue eyes into one of her characters, she’d dipped her paintbrush into her green tea as her mind had wandered on to Stuart. When he looked at her for too long, it always sent heat up her spine and into her cheeks; an involuntary, unstoppable reaction from her body whenever he was close and paying her attention.
She couldn’t stop thinking about him, it was maddening, having conversations with him in her head, ones where she got to tell him how much she liked him, or where she made him laugh, smile, or want to kiss her. It was interfering with her work, too. She couldn’t focus on her illustrations, and ended up playing games on her iPad rather than use it to create illustrations – which had been its purpose for the extravagant purchase. Procrastination at its worst! She’d never find an agent if she didn’t get a portfolio together.
Would she ever get to use any of these rehearsed conversations?
Then, she’d braved it one day, and asked if she could study the colour of his eyes. She’d taken off his glasses, got so close to him, feeling his breath on her cheek, as she studied his blue eyes.
How she’d held it together she’d never know. He appeared not to notice the extremely embarrassing level of heat radiating from her.
Quiet, shy, innocent Lydia, wasn’t so innocent really. Somehow, tonight, she’d found the strength and guts to ask him for a date. She’d wondered, as he was a little clumsy, if he was shy, so thought she’d make the first move. Though, thinking about it, the way he teased and joked with her, was he shy, or just hiding his confidence?
She looked back at her drawing, and as she concentrated drawing his eyes, his best feature, hidden by those ridiculous glasses – they were too big for his face – she fretted she’d been too forward in the car.
He had said yes, remember.
She’d been thinking about him all day, and after Sunday, which had been lovely, truly lovely, she didn’t want the opportunity to slip through her fingers. Stuart was unlikely to stay working with his sister for long. Lydia got the impression the job was a stepping stone, something to get him back on his feet after travelling for so long.
After the disastrous Friday evening, she’d been in two minds whether she even stood a chance of a date with him. With Alice about – who was far more pleasing to the male eye – there really was no competition. Alice could win over Lydia, hands down – or at least that’s what she’d thought. Alice had a way of making sure she got the attention, and Lydia had been pushed aside. Callum had let slip that Stuart had taken Alice to the cinema a couple of weeks ago, riddling Lydia with jealousy, wondering if Stuart had gone home with Alice on Friday night. She’d been glad to hear nothing had gone on with the two of them. Then, with the set-up on Sunday, which she was sure of now because Ruby was not the sort of person to forget appointments, she’d decided to get to know Stuart better.
Maybe she would hint about going for a meal, rather than go to the cinema, so they could talk and really get to know one another.
She’d stopped drawing again. Lost in her thoughts, staring into space – well, into her washing machine. Stop fretting, she told herself, it is the twenty-first century. A woman can ask a man out.