Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,59

dive in the abyss. And as she mixed his deliberately complicated cocktail, he tried for conversation. ‘I like your hairclip.’ So lame. But true.

She put her hand to her head where her homemade clip resided and smiled self-consciously. ‘You do?’

‘Absolutely.’

She nodded, looking down to stir some awful collection of liqueurs before speaking quickly. ‘I don’t have the time right now for entire outfits,’ she said. ‘But hair accessories I can do. Pretty clips, small statements. Just a little fun and it keeps my fringe out of my eyes.’

‘That’s great.’

‘It’s enough,’ she said. ‘But you were right. I needed it.’

‘Good for you.’ He wished she needed him too.

For a moment their eyes met, and Brad was too tired to hide anything any more. He was too tired to try to make chit-chat and break the bulletproof wall of ice between them. He just wanted to hold her close—to have her in his arms and by his side and have it all. For ever.

But she moved to serve another person, and it was like having scabs from third-degree body burns ripped off. Coming here was the dumbest thing he’d done. For a guy who was supposed to be smart, he’d picked the world’s worst time to try to talk to her. New Year’s Eve was the busiest night of the year. Jonny was back—there were five bartenders there and all of them run off their feet. And she couldn’t even look him in the eye.

He didn’t even touch the cocktail she’d made for him. He just turned round and walked away.

Mya glanced up from making the next customer’s cocktail—desperate to make sure he was still there. But he wasn’t. She stretched up on tiptoe and just got a glimpse of his back heading towards the exit.

Oh, no. No, no and no. He wasn’t turning up for the first time in a week looking all rough-edged and dangerous and for one heart-stopping moment vulnerable—and then leaving again. She had things to say to him. Things she’d been rehearsing in her head for days and days and no matter the outcome she was still determined to say.

She pushed her way out from behind the bar and barged through the throngs. ‘Brad!’ She didn’t care who heard her.

But if he did hear her, he didn’t stop. She ran out onto the footpath and charged after him. ‘Brad!’

This time he stopped.

She looked at him, oblivious to the revellers on the street and the heat in the summer night. And now all those words that she’d been mentally practising just flew out of her head—when he looked at her like that?

‘Oh, hell, don’t cry,’ he groaned.

‘I’m not crying!’ she denied. And then sniffed. So what was the point in denial? ‘Okay, I’m … crying.’

‘Mya.’ He sounded strangled. ‘Please go back.’

‘Mya! Drew is having a fit.’ Kirk came puffing up beside them. ‘We need you back at the bar.’

‘I don’t give a damn about the bar,’ Mya snapped.

Kirk scuttled away like a dirt bug escaping daylight.

‘Mya, you should go back. You don’t want to lose your job.’

‘I don’t, but—’

‘And you need to focus on your upcoming exam.’

‘I don’t give a damn about that exam either!’ she shouted.

Brad stared at her, waiting.

‘Okay, I do, but …’ She broke off to draw a ragged breath. ‘I don’t care about the bar. But I do. I don’t care about the exam. But I do. I don’t care about anything that much but you,’ she admitted softly. ‘And I don’t want you to walk away from me.’ Another fat tear spilt down her cheek.

He sighed and took a step towards her. ‘Mya, I’ve always believed that no one can ever truly put another person first. That ultimately we’re all selfish and do what’s best for ourselves. But I was wrong about that.’ He stopped and breathed out. ‘Because I will do whatever you need me to do in order for you to be happy. If that means walking out of your life, then that’s what I’ll do. It’s the last thing I want to do. But I want what’s best for you.’

She shook her head angrily. ‘You might be brilliant but you’re not a mind-reader. What makes you think walking out of my life would be best for me?’

‘It’s what you asked me to do,’ he pointed out.

‘Well, I was an idiot.’

He stared at her. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘I don’t know that you can offer me what I really want from you.’

‘I know you want to hold onto your