thoughts.
Tudor North stood
behind me with folded arms and a dangerously sexy lopsided smirk. Now
he had moved away from the cover of the table I could see him in his
full glory, and glo-ri-ous he was.
Wearing a fitted black
T-shirt, ripped dark jeans and an oversized beanie hat tucked in at
the back, he towered above me, and for once in my life I actually
felt dainty next to his remarkably wide, tall and sculpted body.
“You work here as
well as school or something?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.
“No. Just waiting for
my friend to finish work, he gets off at ten. But hello to you too.
Aren’t you the epitome of manners? So… friendly and
approachable!” I jibed, feigning nonchalance.
Why is he over here?
“He?” he inquired,
looking down at the floor and then back up at me, ignoring my bitchy
remark.
“Yeah, Tin- er,
John.”
He wouldn't get the
‘Tink’ reference and I couldn't be arsed explaining it to someone
I frankly was beginning to detest. Although my body, currently
covered in goose bumps, didn't exactly agree with my mind’s
assessment. His good looks were making me queasier than the
super-strong daiquiri I had just necked.
“Is he your boyfriend
or something?” he asked in a very abrupt and direct manner.
“ Not that it
concerns you but, hell no! Take a look; do you think that’s
my boyfriend?”
I pointed over to Tink,
who was in the kitchen picking up pizzas above his head and strutting
out to the main restaurant, doing his best Tyra Banks walk and
screaming, “Work it, girl!”
“Ahh, guess not. He’s
gay, then?”
Please don’t let
him be homophobic too.
“Yep. He’s as camp
as Christmas and oh , he’s a cage fighter too,” I replied
dryly.
He swerved to study
Tink’s slender frame. “What-? Ahh ,” he nodded his head
with a knowing grin. “Touché, Ms. Munro. Payback for my display of
sarcasm earlier?” he commented, with the ghost of a smile.
Is he actually
trying to be nice?
“Tit for tat, Mr.
North. Tit. For. Tat,” I scolded, exaggerating each word with a
click of my fingers.
He pierced me with
those forest-green eyes for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t look
away. Slowly licking his lips, he looked me up and down and said,
“Well, I’ve got the tats, so…”
Redirect, reverse,
and just go back to being pissed off, not turned on!
I shuffled on the
suddenly-hot seat, and pulled my libido back from sneaking up his
trouser leg. “He jokes! An actor with a sense of humour, who knew?
Not the fuck-nut I thought, then?” I said, finally finding my poker
face.
“Not always, whatever
the hell that is,” he murmured, seemingly slightly amused.
Phew! That voice.
“My name’s Tash by
the way, I feel like an S&M madam you calling me ‘Ms.’ all
the time.”
“Tash… I like it,”
he leaned down, his arms trapping me against the bar. He put his
mouth to my ear and whispered huskily, “But I like the idea of
calling you Ms . as well.” He met my now-stunned gaze, and
stepped back as if that little conversation had never happened.
He’s done that to
wind me up, unnerve me but... but – man, he’s so hot! Oh my God,
he has dimples… write me off now or let me take up residence in
those little caves of cuteness!
Shuffling uncomfortably
on the spot like he was nervous, he peered down at me. “So, do you
want to join our table? Boleyn keeps raving about you and quite
honestly I’m intrigued to hear all about the ‘famous Ms.
Munro’ in person. Plus, it may shut her up for the remainder of
the night if you sit with us. She’s been craning her neck all over
ever since you came back here. Claims I was a bad brother and an even
worse human being to speak to ‘the best teacher ever’ like
that,” he declared, putting on a teenage-girl whiny voice.
“ Ahh , so this
little conversation is not altruistic, then? You want back in your
sister’s good books,” I shook my head in mock disappointment.
“And just when I thought you might have a
Tudor North stood
behind me with folded arms and a dangerously sexy lopsided smirk. Now
he had moved away from the cover of the table I could see him in his
full glory, and glo-ri-ous he was.
Wearing a fitted black
T-shirt, ripped dark jeans and an oversized beanie hat tucked in at
the back, he towered above me, and for once in my life I actually
felt dainty next to his remarkably wide, tall and sculpted body.
“You work here as
well as school or something?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.
“No. Just waiting for
my friend to finish work, he gets off at ten. But hello to you too.
Aren’t you the epitome of manners? So… friendly and
approachable!” I jibed, feigning nonchalance.
Why is he over here?
“He?” he inquired,
looking down at the floor and then back up at me, ignoring my bitchy
remark.
“Yeah, Tin- er,
John.”
He wouldn't get the
‘Tink’ reference and I couldn't be arsed explaining it to someone
I frankly was beginning to detest. Although my body, currently
covered in goose bumps, didn't exactly agree with my mind’s
assessment. His good looks were making me queasier than the
super-strong daiquiri I had just necked.
“Is he your boyfriend
or something?” he asked in a very abrupt and direct manner.
“ Not that it
concerns you but, hell no! Take a look; do you think that’s
my boyfriend?”
I pointed over to Tink,
who was in the kitchen picking up pizzas above his head and strutting
out to the main restaurant, doing his best Tyra Banks walk and
screaming, “Work it, girl!”
“Ahh, guess not. He’s
gay, then?”
Please don’t let
him be homophobic too.
“Yep. He’s as camp
as Christmas and oh , he’s a cage fighter too,” I replied
dryly.
He swerved to study
Tink’s slender frame. “What-? Ahh ,” he nodded his head
with a knowing grin. “Touché, Ms. Munro. Payback for my display of
sarcasm earlier?” he commented, with the ghost of a smile.
Is he actually
trying to be nice?
“Tit for tat, Mr.
North. Tit. For. Tat,” I scolded, exaggerating each word with a
click of my fingers.
He pierced me with
those forest-green eyes for what seemed like hours. I couldn’t look
away. Slowly licking his lips, he looked me up and down and said,
“Well, I’ve got the tats, so…”
Redirect, reverse,
and just go back to being pissed off, not turned on!
I shuffled on the
suddenly-hot seat, and pulled my libido back from sneaking up his
trouser leg. “He jokes! An actor with a sense of humour, who knew?
Not the fuck-nut I thought, then?” I said, finally finding my poker
face.
“Not always, whatever
the hell that is,” he murmured, seemingly slightly amused.
Phew! That voice.
“My name’s Tash by
the way, I feel like an S&M madam you calling me ‘Ms.’ all
the time.”
“Tash… I like it,”
he leaned down, his arms trapping me against the bar. He put his
mouth to my ear and whispered huskily, “But I like the idea of
calling you Ms . as well.” He met my now-stunned gaze, and
stepped back as if that little conversation had never happened.
He’s done that to
wind me up, unnerve me but... but – man, he’s so hot! Oh my God,
he has dimples… write me off now or let me take up residence in
those little caves of cuteness!
Shuffling uncomfortably
on the spot like he was nervous, he peered down at me. “So, do you
want to join our table? Boleyn keeps raving about you and quite
honestly I’m intrigued to hear all about the ‘famous Ms.
Munro’ in person. Plus, it may shut her up for the remainder of
the night if you sit with us. She’s been craning her neck all over
ever since you came back here. Claims I was a bad brother and an even
worse human being to speak to ‘the best teacher ever’ like
that,” he declared, putting on a teenage-girl whiny voice.
“ Ahh , so this
little conversation is not altruistic, then? You want back in your
sister’s good books,” I shook my head in mock disappointment.
“And just when I thought you might have a
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