Page 12 of Playing for Keeps
Her eyes went to his waist. “Having your shirt tucked into your jeans isn’t the best look.”
Hugh’s hand went to his waistband, but all he managed was to stammer unintelligibly.
“I’m so sorry.” Allie slapped a hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. It’s like I’ve lost my filter.”
The way her cheeks flushed made him feel marginally better, and he blew out a breath as he tugged his shirt free from his belt.
“Better?” he asked, then snorted a laugh when she grimaced. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“Here…” She reached for his left arm, undid the button at his cuff and turned the sleeve back while he watched in amusement. “There,” she said after rolling back the right sleeve. “That’s better.”
“If I’d have known how open the staff are in this place, I’d have arrived earlier so you could have spruced me up before my date arrived.” He beamed at her.
As the blush faded on her cheeks, she gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. “Fashion advice is all part of the service. No need to tip extra or anything.”
Hugh settled back on his stool. “Is it really so bad to tuck shirts in?”
“No.” She walked back behind the bar. “It just gives a certain vibe.”
“What kind of vibe?”
She shrugged. “Like an academic or an architect or something.”
“I am an architect!”
Her eyes flashed with teasing. “Really?”
“You’ve spent the evening eavesdropping on my conversations, haven’t you?”
“I’m a waitress. It’s a hazard of the job.”
“Okay.” He sat up straighter. “Since you had a front-row seat to the date, tell me what went wrong … aside from my poor choice of clothing.”
“I really don’t want to do this.” She glanced around as though checking if anyone was listening and whether she was about to jeopardise her job.
“Come on,” he prompted. “Don’t get all shy now … you already groped me.”
“I did not grope you.”
“You had a pretty good feel at my upper body,” he pointed out. “Anyway, tell me where you think I went wrong.”
“You may have talked a little too much about your job,” she said hesitantly.
“Really?”
“There’s only so much anyone wants to hear about scale rulers and T-squares and drafting tape.”
“Oh my god!” Hugh buried his head in his hands.
“Hey.” Allie reached over and patted his shoulder. “It wasn’t so bad.”
“I don’t think I talked about my job that much. You must have just overheard at the wrong moments.” He straightened up, buoyed by the idea. “Because I don’t even use those tools any more—”
“I know,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s all digitalised these days, which has its pros and cons. I can tell you all about them if you’d like?”
He hid his face again. “Kill me …”
“That seems drastic. How about I pour you another drink instead?”