Having driven to the same pub where her ill-fated date with Ewan should have taken place, Rosie had a strong sense of déjà vu.
Parking her battered Citroën, she swallowed hard, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach. Would she be stood up again?
As she headed towards Neptune’s Promise, a familiar voice called out, ‘Hey, Rosie!’
She turned to see Alex sitting outside in the picturesque pub garden, taking shelter from the evening sun beneath a parasol.
‘I hope you don’t mind sitting in the shade,’ he said, jumping up to greet her and lowering his film-star sunglasses. ‘I didn’t want us to end up crispy fried. You look stunning, by the way.’
Rosie blushed, her pink cheeks complementing the lemon-bright floral pattern on the pocket dress she’d found squashed at the back of her wardrobe. She’d put make-up on and touched up the roots on her strawberry-blonde hair.
‘Thanks, Alex. You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.’
He grinned, a cheeky gleam in his eyes. ‘Let me get you a drink. What do you fancy?’
‘Something long and cool,’ she quipped, enjoying the attention. ‘Failing that, cranberry with lots of crushed ice. By the way, how’s the leg?’
‘Sore. I won’t be running anywhere for a while. But I can make it to the bar.’
Alex was easy-going and, as the evening progressed, Rosie quickly relaxed.
‘Tell me about yourself,’ Alex asked.
‘Not much to tell,’ she replied, the chilled juice cooling her throat as she sipped.
‘I doubt that. OK, I’ll start.
