Chapter 1

Carla rolled her eyes and sighed audibly. Not that her date would notice; he had paid scant attention to anything north of her chest from the moment she'd walked into the bar.

You never can tell, she reflected, if a bloke will turn out to be a nice guy or a perv. Especially not when judging from a couple of blurry pics and some bunk about long walks on the beach that littered the dating apps she had begun to scour after the first few lonely weeks of living in Devon. But what had started out as a desperate attempt to distract herself from the recent heartbreak of being dumped on her wedding day had turned into a string of disastrous dates, each one worse than the last.

And so Carla began to strategise in her mind her escape plan, how she could make her excuses without appearing overly rude, when the matter was taken out of her hands entirely.

"What's this then?"

Carla's gaze flew up to the face of the man who had appeared, as if by magic, at the side of the table.

"Wh– what?" she stammered.

"You said you were going to visit your mother," the man continued gruffly. "Yet here you are with another man."

"Are you her fella?" Carla's date asked, his eyes darting nervously from Carla to the new arrival.

"I am," he confirmed, his eyes flickering ever so quickly to Carla's face, winking at her conspiratorially, before glowering again at his supposed love rival. "And I don't appreciate smarmy gits like you eyeing up me missus."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," the smarmy git stammered. "She didn't say. I didn't mean…"

"Get outta here and we'll say no more about it."

Almost immediately forgetting the fast-retreating figure of her date as he made a beeline for the exit, Carla fixed her gaze on this strangely intriguing newcomer, her eyebrow raised at his arrogance or confidence, she wasn't sure, as he claimed for himself the recently vacated seat opposite her.

"A thank you wouldn't go astray," he said, raising his hand in the air to catch the attention of the barmaid.

"What can I get for you, my lovely," she drawled as she sauntered towards their table.

"Pint of bitter, ta," he ordered, before turning to Carla, a question on his face. "What will you have?"

"I–" Carla was still too much in shock to speak.

"Well," he chivvied her. "Don't keep the lady waiting."

"Gin and tonic?" Carla suggested uncertainly.

"And a gin and tonic," he completed the order. "Make it with that nice Seville orange gin, she'll like that."

"I'm visiting my mother, am I?" she asked him, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Apparently so."

"My mother's dead."

"Oh," he grimaced at his blunder. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she waved off his apology, preferring instead to ask the pressing question. "What are you doing?"

"Having a drink in my local," he answered simply.

"That's not– you know what I meant."

"You looked like you needed rescuing," he explained. "If I got it wrong, I'm sorry. I'm sure if you called him, explained the situation. Tell him I'm your, I don't know, I'm your practical joker of a brother. He'll understand, although…"

"Although what?"

"You can do a lot better than him."

"Can I now?"

"Much much better."

"Pint 'a bitter and a G&T," announced the barmaid as she placed their drinks on the table.

"Thanks," the man said, handing over a ten-pound note, not for a moment taking his eyes off Carla. "Keep the change."

"Well, then," Carla said as her hand instinctively reached for the full glass in front of her. "I guess cheers are in order."

With a smile, he grasped the pint glass and raised it in the air, clinking it gently against Carla's glass as she raised it to meet his.

"Cheers," they said in unison.

He watched her intently as she took her first sip.

"So?" he waited for her verdict.

"It's good," she smiled.

"It's good?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Very good."

Carla lost count of how many gin and tonics she drank in the company of the handsome stranger. The evening had turned out a lot better than she had expected; so good that she was disappointed when he pushed his chair back from the table and, rising to his feet, explained, "I'd love to stay longer, but…" For a moment, his eyes cast downward and the smile faded from his face. "I have to get back. I have to, umm…"

"It's okay," Carla reassured him. "Thanks for rescuing me."

"Anytime," his smile returned to his face, a natural reaction to the smile she was beaming back at him. "Listen," he said, rummaging in his coat pocket and, pulling out a pen, scribbled a number onto a coaster and pushed it towards her. "If you ever find yourself in need of a jealous boyfriend…"

"Hold on!" she called out to him as he turned to leave. "You never told me your name."

"Lucas," he said, looking back at her with a smile. "Lucas Kempton."