That One Moment (Lost in London #2)

by Amy Daws

  “What do you mean…help?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “He’s my big brother. He’s protective and I know he will do anything for me at any time. Last year I was in a crap situation with my ex, and while the way Gareth reacted was dangerous and could have ruined his career, it’s touching to know he’d risk anything for me like that.”

  Hayden’s eyes hardened. “What happened?”

  “Oh God, nothing all that original. Pierce was a guy I had been dating for a while and he started cheating on me. The affair was all over Chigwell because the woman was the wife of a famous footballer, and no, I will not tell you which one.”

  “Wasn’t even going to ask,” he said, his eyes trained on me, silently urging me to continue.

  His reaction gave me a secret thrill, knowing that what he cared about most in the story had everything to do with me and nothing to do with football. “It was one of those ‘everyone in town knew but me’ situations, which made me feel like the biggest loser.”

  “Why would that make you feel like a loser? He’s the prat in this scenario.”

  I shrugged, feeling a tad too transparent. “It’s nothing.”

  He frowned and his eyes grew scarily serious. “Tell me, Vi.”

  Sighing, I looked down at his chest, and played with the buttons on his shirt as I replied, “It’s just a daft fear I have. My dad and brothers have always been great at showing me how much they love me…They didn’t give me a complex or anything.”

  “But…”

  “But growing up…I always felt a bit invisible to all their mates.”

  “How is that even possible?” Hayden’s eyes pierced me with an intensity I could feel everywhere, but I couldn’t look at him as I continued my explanation. I felt too vulnerable, and the truth was too damning. But I wanted to share it. He’s shared so much with me. It felt important I shared that too.

  “My brothers’ friends would barely even look at me, let alone acknowledge my presence in a room. I sort of got it in my head that I was uninteresting…Generic, perhaps. I was content to live in their shadows and take care of things at home. So I just never felt it’d be easy for me to find someone to care about me. And the blokes I did date never had that special spark. I can’t help but think, ‘What is life if you don’t have anyone extraordinary to share your wine gums with?’” I laugh to lighten the tone a bit, but my brain refuses to slow down. “That’s why I was kind of happy to be lumped with Bruce. The little sod has become my best mate and he notices everything I do. He’s around to test my latest food experiment, or pounce on me when I’ve tripped. Bruce Hugs are quite good, really.”

  I looked up to see Hayden’s severe expression and immediately wished I could gobble up all the words and stuff them back in my mouth. I swallowed hard when I felt the annoying sting of tears in my eyes. Christ, I wished I could have pulled myself together. I sank my teeth into my lower lip, and did my best to stave away my daft tears. “I was rambling…away with the fairies or something. Ignore me. I make myself sound like a sad, desperate cow. You better get—”

  My words were snuffed out by Hayden’s hard and furious lips. He twirled us around so I was up against the wall. He pressed every determined inch of his body to mine with a force that he wanted me to feel everywhere. The kiss was broken all too suddenly when he stopped and murmured against my lips, “Remind me to send a thank you card to your brothers.”

  “What on earth do you mean?” I asked, out of breath from his welcomed assault on my blabbing mouth.

  “Vi,” Hayden said seriously as he pulled back enough so I could see his whole face, “you are a footballer’s fucking fantasy. The only reason you felt invisible to your brothers’ mates is because they were threatened with bodily harm if any of them ever dared to touch you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.

  “Tell me, was this Pierce twat a guy who knew your brothers? A mate of theirs?”

  “No, he was a slimy DJ who worked at a club in Chigwell.” I blanched at my embarrassingly poor taste in men.

  He chuckled, “I bet your brothers were big fans.”

  “Oh yeah, they’re proper mates now. They go paintballing together every Tuesday,” I giggled against his lips and he kissed the sarcasm right off me. The kiss was on its way to a full on passionate snog, but he tows away suddenly and turned to punch the button on the lift.

  “I’ll call you,” he stated softly just as the doors closed on his tortured face.

  He left me confused and wondering what in the bloody hell had just happened. But thankfully, the day after he left my flat, he rang to ask if he could pop over after he finished work at C. Designs. One night of him watching me make supper for the two of us turned in to several nights. Sometimes he’d bring over take away. But the nights I cooked were my favourite. I hadn’t realised how much I missed cooking with a warm body around. Bruce apparently wasn’t cutting the mustard as far as cooking buddies go, though he’s got his uses—namely lapping up every one of my spills. It’s like his ears are hard-wired to register the sound of the smallest crumb hitting the floor. Never mind the fact that he trips my feet up at least once every evening as an assurance for an ooey-gooey mess.

  Anyway, having Hayden there with those warm grey eyes was an aphrodisiac in and of itself. The sexual tension between us is far more potent than the cooking. We may have exchanged several proper snogs up against my fridge and on my kitchen counter. I may have also straddled him on the barstool at the island a time or two.

  But every time things begin to progress between the two of us, he stops it, usually by lightly rubbing my nose and calling me a naughty bunny. I’d probably hate the bunny nose brush routine if he didn’t get that crinkly look around his eyes every time—the kind of look that says he’s trying to conceal a sublimely happy smile. Pretty soon though, I’m going to show him a whole different animal if he doesn’t stop playing so bloody hard to get. I was the one to slow things down between us on the first night. But since then, it’s been him…even insisting on leaving my flat before eleven every night for the safety of his own bed.

  Regardless, there’s something so gloriously and beautifully ordinary about having him around while I busy myself in the kitchen. He’d help a bit and we’d laugh. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

  One night he asked me, “Don’t you ever cook and drink?”

  “What do you mean?” I replied curiously.

  “Most proper chefs I know enjoy a glass of wine while they cook.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” I replied honestly.

  He promptly waltzed over to my wine fridge, grabbed a bottle of white, and poured a glass for me. Then, he popped the cork back into the bottle with a huff. “I’m not fragile, Vi. I’m not going to crumble.”

  Well okay then.

  I didn’t realise I’d been behaving differently around him until he said that and then I felt like a prat. Hayden shouldn’t have to remind me he’s okay. Just looking at him, I know he is. However, I think he is definitely in the small percentage of recovering addicts who don’t fear relapsing every day.

  He tried to explain to me that his alcoholism was a bit different than most as it didn’t take shape until Marisa died. “I struggled with survivor’s guilt after Marisa’s death. That was the start of my problems. It wasn’t a brain chemistry issue or heredity inheritance of depression. It was an environmental event that affected me deeply. As a result, I turned to drinking and other dangerous behaviours. But alcohol is a depressant. It stoked my guilt and caused me to drown in my own self-pity. Continuing to drink could essentially lead me back to that dark place in my mind. That means avoidance of all alcohol is paramount if I don’t want to slide down that slope again.”

  The more I learned about Hayden, the more I wanted him. Every day he surprised me with all he was willing to share with me. Even the light-hearted family stories were such a great glimpse into his life.

  One day we took Bruce for a walk, and
he told me this hilarious story about his mum catching Theo and Leslie butt-naked in the hallway of their family home last year. I laughed so hard I couldn’t help but continue pegging him with tons of questions about his mum. She sounded delightful in every silly story. Then I told him about how when I was growing up, I always paid close attention to other people’s mums. My friends at school would invite me over, and instead of going up to their rooms to talk about boys, I would ask if I could help their mum make tea. It’s probably a large reason why I didn’t have many friends. I admitted that even to this day, I watch mothers at supermarkets and fantasise about what they’re preparing their family for supper. I dream about what it would have been like growing up with someone like that. I was so envious that I turned into that weirdo who stalks middle-aged women in the grocery store.

  But after a fortnight of lying low and just slowly getting to know each other, the real world came barging in. Hayden and I made plans to take things to the next level. No countdown. No suicide talk. No painful past crap. Just a date. A single, solitary, painfully normal, and somewhat boring date.

  Dinner and a film.

  I’m positively buzzing with anticipation. I’ve got my main mutt, Bruce, standing guard at my door, watching me with sad puppy-dog eyes.

  I’m dressed in a simple black and white striped, short sleeve, cotton dress. It’s rather modest, aside from the shorter length, but I paired it with my favourite white Converse to give it a more casual appearance. Keeping to the theme, I left my blonde hair loose down my back, adding just a bit of soft curls to the ends, and my makeup is light and elegant.

  I turn to Bruce. “How do I look?” I ask, tossing my hands out to show off my outfit. He huffs and drops his head back down on his pillow. I took him on a good long walk after work today, so he’s properly knackered now. “Much help you are,” I grumble.

  Just as I finish tying my laces, my buzzer goes off. I jog over and breathe, “Hiya,” into the monitor like a smiling loon.

  “Oi Vi, let us up…We gotta talk to ya.”

  I frown. “Camden?”

  “‘Course it’s fuckin’ Camden…and Tanner. Who else would it be?”

  My heart drops. Hayden should be here soon, and the last thing I need is for him to get a glimpse of the Harris brothers. He’s so not ready for that. Panicking that Hayden could be walking up at any moment, I buzz them up.

  Shit, shit, shit! How am I going to get rid of them? What the hell do they need? As the lift doors open, my two owly brothers are standing face to face, arguing as usual. They are kind of a hilarious sight. One is a clean-cut, playboy-looking type. The other is a scruffier slacker-boy. But their faces are similar, so it’s quite comical.

  “That is your perception of how the night went. You are off your bloody rocker, bro,” Tanner challenges.

  “I’m about to fucking pummel you in the face if you don’t watch your tone.” A vein in Camden’s neck bulges angrily.

  “Oi, oi, oi! What’s the problem here?” I stand with my hands on my hips, greeting them in the foyer. I don’t want them coming in and making themselves comfortable. This is a quick fix and then I’m sending them on their way.

  Tanner looks to me and flicks his head back to get his blond hair out of his eyes. “Here’s what happened, Vi. We were at a club last night, right? And all these little slappers were flocking on us like flies on shit.”

  “Tanner!” I snap.

  “What?” he asks, looking at me in confusion.

  “First of all…you’re disgusting. Second of all…women, not little slappers. These are females who deserve your respect. I don’t care how loose they are,” I reprimand.

  “All right, all right. Women,” he groans with his jaw jutted out defiantly. “Hell, they could be Kate fucking Middleton for all I care. Anyway, this gorgeous redhead is on me. Like super on me. I’m already thinking, ‘I got this in the bag.’”

  My eyes close in pain over where I see this story going.

  “And I was about to seal the deal, but I had to nip off to the loo because I’d been drinking a lot and needed to piss. But suddenly, before I left…I got nervous…because I could tell Camden was sniffin’ about.”

  “I wasn’t sniffin’ about! Your slapper…woman…” Camden corrects when I cut my eyes at him, “…was eyeing me like she could see my package through my trousers. I can’t help that, bro! She liked what she saw.”

  Tanner rolls his eyes and continues. “Anyway, I can see Camden has ideas, so I think bacon sandwich, right?”

  “Bacon sandwich?” I ask, my brows puzzling.

  “Yeah, like…lick my bacon sandwich and then it’s mine and no one can touch it.”

  My jaw drops. “Is the bacon sandwich the woman in this story?”

  “All right, you got it now!” Tanner crows proudly. “So I lean in and give my bacon sandwich a good lick. She liked it too, let me tell you. You can always tell when the flavour suits them. She was into my flavour, Vi. So I nip off to the toilet and when I come back, Camden is all over her. Like, they are practically having sex on the couch. His tongue was so far down her throat I thought she was going to need resuscitating!”

  “I took her breath away, all right,” Camden jeers with a naughty twinkle in his eyes. I stare at him, clearly not impressed.

  “Fuckin’ wanker,” Tanner mumbles. “He was wrong, right, Vi? I mean. Bacon sandwich rule…Clearly he was wrong!”

  “All is fair in love and redheads, mate.” Camden pats Tanner on the shoulder, and Tanner swings back and shoves him away from him. This only makes Camden laugh harder.

  Sighing heavily, I close my eyes shut before I say, “I am not even sure where to begin with this ridiculous story and your appalling behavior. For starters, bacon sandwich rule…not a thing!”

  “What do you mean?” Tanner barks.

  “I mean…that is not a thing. If you’re talking about humans, then the bacon sandwich idea is horrifying on many levels. Moreover, Camden, get your own girls and stop interfering with Tanner just to get a rise out of him.”

  “I can’t help it if—” he starts, but I cut him off.

  “They don’t like you better. You’re just a pig. You’re both pigs. You both need to stop looking at women like conquests and start treating them with respect. If I was that redhead and a couple of horrid blokes like you two were talking about me like this, how would you feel?”

  Both their faces drop.

  “Exactly. Bugger!” I snap. “This disappoints me. Like I taught you guys nothing growing up.”

  “Vi, these women know what they’re getting from us. We don’t make them any promises,” Camden argues.

  “I don’t care. I can’t hear any more of this. Seriously. You guys need to leave.” I push the door to my lift and it opens instantly. I point.

  “But Vi,” Tanner starts, his face crestfallen.

  “No…you need to go. I’m so sad to hear you talk about women like this. I won’t forget it.”

  “Vi, come off it,” Camden cajoles and tries to pull me under his arm, but I resist his embrace.

  “Talk to me about your women troubles when you each find someone who makes you feel something north of your damn penises.”

  My phone dings in my hand and I see a text from Hayden that he’s on his way. I hustle my twin brothers out of my flat with their tails tucked properly between their legs. Good. Serves them right. I’m tired of them talking about women like they are candy to quarrel over.

  I rush into the bathroom and give myself one final once-over. Then, I grab my clutch and denim jacket, and hop into the lift. As I descend, I can’t help but hope that my brothers someday find girls who make them feel giddy and excited like I feel right now.

  I stride out to find a relaxed Hayden leaning against the opposite brick wall. I glance up and down the alley nervously and exhale when I see no sign of my brothers. My heart does a double beat as I look back at him and take in his muscled, denim clad leg tossed over the other. Hayden Clarke takes jeans to a
whole new level. Every pair he wears is fitted and slim, but faded and masculine in all the right places. Today, the bottoms are cuffed, revealing really sexy leather boots. My eyes move up to find him in one of his standard half-buttoned, grey, blended shirts. It’s pulled tightly across his lean chest, and his sleeves are pushed up on his arms, revealing his manly blonde fuzz-covered forearms and the standard leather cuffs and watch that I hardly notice anymore.

  “Fuck, Bunny,” Hayden groans under his breath, lustfully eyeing my legs. “Probably a good thing you didn’t play football.”

  “And why is that?” I ask, putting my hand on my hip in defiance.

  He shrugs his shoulders. “You’ve seen footballers’ legs. Why mess with perfection?”

  I shake my head and accept his ridiculously cheesy compliment as he pulls me in for a sensual kiss. “Miss me?” I ask, giggling as he tries to stop me from pulling away.

  “You could say that.” His eyes are hooded as he bites his lower lip.

  He sighs heavily and grabs my hand in his as we make our way over to Pizza East located in an old tea warehouse near my neighbourhood. I’ve been here a few times for take away. It’s got a cosy cavernous feel on the inside. Furthermore, the wood oven and comfort of the home style foods they serve make it the perfect place for a relaxed evening out.

  We order a couple of pizzas to split, and Hayden balks when I ask for an Italian soda. “You can get wine,” he mumbles, frustration radiating off his stiff posture.

  “Oi! You need to start letting me make my own choices. I’m not that big of a drinker, Hayden.” I take the glass bottle of grape soda from the bloke behind the counter. “Can you get him one too? He needs a bit of cheer. What kind do you want?”

  Hayden frowns and then grumbles, “Strawberry.”

  I conceal my snicker as the man hands him the bottle of pink liquid. “Nice choice.”

  Hayden sullenly takes a sip. “It’s bloody good too.” A grin splits across his face and he winks at me. We both laugh and make our way to a cosy red booth by the wall covered with wood logs for the pizza oven.

  “I noticed that you didn’t drink much at Club Shay, actually.” Hayden says after we settle into our seats.