Page 13 of Sassy & Sixty
Lisa shook her head, a knowing smile on her face. "Trust me, Emma doesn't need rescuing. In fact, I'd be more worried about those poor boys."
Sure enough, a moment later, Emma returned to the table, a triumphant grin on her face and a fresh drink in her hand. “Gentlemen…” she announced, "are not dead. Those lovely lads just bought me a drink and invited us to join their pub quiz team."
"Their what?" Catherine squeaked, looking alarmed.
"Pub quiz, darling. You know, trivia? Come on, it'll be fun!"
Before they knew it, they found themselves squeezed around a large table with the group of young men, all of whom seemed both amused and slightly in awe of their new teammates.
"Right," said one of the lads, a fresh-faced young man who introduced himself as Tom. "We've got sports, pop culture, history, and science. What are your strong suits, ladies?"
Emma puffed out her chest. "I'll have you know I'm a walking encyclopaedia of 60s and 70s music trivia."
"Perfect," Tom grinned. "And the rest of you?"
To everyone's surprise, it was Catherine who spoke up next. "I... I'm quite good at history. Especially British monarchs."
"Brilliant! Lisa, what about you?"
Lisa straightened her shoulders. "Put me down for politics and current events. I may be retired, but I still read the Financial Times every morning."
Julie raised her hand. "I can handle the art questions. And possibly literature."
All eyes turned to Rosie. She felt a moment of panic. What was she good at? She'd spent so many years being Derek's wife, Mary's mother, that she'd almost forgotten what her own interests were.
"I... I suppose I know a bit about gardening," she said hesitantly. "And I'm not bad at general knowledge."
"Sounds like we've got all our bases covered then," Tom said enthusiastically. “Are you going to show us youngsters how it's done?"
As the quiz got underway, Rosie found herself getting caught up in the excitement. She surprised herself by knowing answers to questions she didn't even realise she knew. The years fell away as she and her friends laughed, debated, and celebrated each correct answer.
It was during a break between rounds that Rosie noticed him. A distinguished-looking man at the bar, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly trimmed, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He caught her eye and smiled, raising his glass in a small salute.
Rosie felt a flutter in her stomach that she hadn't experienced in years. She smiled back, then quickly looked away, her cheeks warming.
"Well, well," Emma's voice came from beside her, full of mischief. "What have we here? Has our Rosie spotted a silver fox?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Rosie muttered, but she could feel her blush deepening.
"Oh yes, you do," Emma grinned. "Go on, go talk to him. We'll cover for you in the next round."
"I couldn't possibly..." Rosie began, but Emma was already gently pushing her out of her seat.
"You can, and you will. Doctor's orders."
"Doctor?" Rosie asked, confused.
Emma nodded towards the man at the bar. "That's Mike Thompson. He's a GP at the local surgery. Divorced, no kids, and if the local gossip is to be believed, an excellent dancer. Now go!"
Before Rosie could protest further, she found herself standing and making her way to the bar. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure everyone could hear it.
"Hello," she said, wincing internally at how breathless she sounded. "I'm Rosie."
Mike turned to her, his smile widening. "Hello, Rosie. I'm Mike. Can I buy you a drink?"
His voice was deep and warm, with a hint of a Scottish burr. "That would be lovely, thank you."
As Mike ordered her another mojito, Rosie caught sight of her friends at the quiz table. They were all giving her enthusiastic thumbs up, with Emma miming what appeared to be a very inappropriate gesture.
