Chapter 16
Evie
“I feel terrible.” Evie scrolled through the report on her laptop. Beyond her kitchen window the sun was setting over the
cliffs, but for once she wasn’t looking. She’d had one of the worst days at work she could ever remember having, and it showed
no signs of improving. Even the glass of red wine by her laptop wasn’t helping. “I feel officially terrible.”
“Why?” Luca put a pizza on the table between them, along with a couple of plates.
She glanced at it and then at him.
“Pizza?”
It wasn’t true to say the day had been all bad. Luca had insisted on coming home with her and making her dinner. Pizza. Her
favourite comfort food.
“I can’t believe you made that out of what I had in the fridge.”
“I didn’t. I went to the shop for ingredients.” He sliced the pizza. “You were engrossed in that report and didn’t notice.”
“You went to the shop? The local shop?”
“They have excellent mozzarella and surprisingly good tomatoes.”
“Was it Richard or his daughter Alice serving?”
“Both of them.”
Her heart sank. “And no doubt they asked what you were cooking, because they always do. When I was growing up they always
knew what Dad and I were having for dinner. It was unsettling.”
“They did ask.”
Of course they did. “And you told them to mind their own business? You said you were making yourself a lonely mozzarella and tomato salad for
one, which you were planning to eat while staring out of the window of your equally lonely apartment?”
“No. I told them that I was making you a pizza in your house. We agreed that the contents of your fridge isn’t reliable.”
He put a slice of pizza on her plate. “Nice people. Excellent quality produce. They welcomed me to the village and suggested
I call into the bakery tomorrow and pick up something for breakfast. They also told me to buy a couple of coffees because
you never have milk in the fridge. Apparently the bakery is owned by a family member. I forget the name.”
“Lucy,” Evie said faintly. “She’s Alice’s cousin.”
“That’s it. Lucy.” He sat down opposite her. “They said cinnamon swirls are your favourite. I said they sounded perfect because
we’d be using up a lot of calories tonight that would need replenishing.”
“You said what? Are you serious? I’m going to have to move.” She put her hands over her face and then let them drop. “You do realise you’re
going to have to wear a disguise and leave before dawn, don’t you?”
“I won’t be wearing a disguise. And I plan on occupying your bed right until the last possible moment.
And then I’ll buy cinnamon swirls and probably go out into the street and perhaps sing and dance, so that no one misses the fact that I’m leaving your cottage wearing the same clothes I arrived in tonight. ”
“Are you trying to make some sort of point?”
“Yes. I’m showing you that I’m comfortable with the whole world knowing I’m making you pizza and then hanging around to make
you breakfast.”
Something shifted inside her. She felt a swell of emotion. Part of her was appalled but another part of her, the larger part,
was touched. He was showing her that he was relaxed about the whole thing.
“You’re going to regret this.”
“No, I won’t.” He sounded sure. “You don’t have to creep around looking over your shoulder for my benefit, and if someone
knocks on your door I will not be hiding in the cupboard or climbing out of your window naked.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. To cover her emotion, she kept it light.
“I’ve seen you naked. The locals are missing out. Wait—” She stared at him suspiciously as something dawned on her. “You’re
saying all this to distract me, aren’t you?”
“Yes. You’re upset and I thought you needed to focus on something other than your crappy day.”
“So none of the above is true?”
“Oh, it’s all true.” He helped himself to pizza. “I’m distracting you by telling you the truth. Are you going to eat this?
Because I don’t want to have to tell Alice that you didn’t like her tomatoes.”
She reached for the slice he’d given her. “Fine, but you are responsible for what happens next. Don’t come complaining to
me when the whole village wants regular updates on our relationship journey.”
“I won’t be complaining. I thought I might start a blog. It might save time.” He took a bite of pizza. “I’m still waiting for you to tell me why you feel officially terrible.”
“Because I was angry with Abby. When she said she’d been sending reports to her mother, I was furious. It felt like such a
betrayal.” Evie rubbed her forehead. “I felt exposed and defensive, and I assumed—”
“You assumed she’d said bad things about you.”
“Not only me. The whole team. But the team is my responsibility so in a way yes, me. It all reflects on me.” She took a bite
of pizza and moaned. “Oh my—how did you—this is—”
“This is comfort food. You looked as if you needed comfort food.” He put another slice on her plate. “I’m guessing from your
sudden bout of self-flagellation that she hasn’t said bad things?”
“No. Far from it. It’s better than any end of year school report I ever had. They always read Evie would do better if she talked less.” She ate the second slice of pizza. “This is delicious. You truly are a genius. I can’t believe you made it in my kitchen.”
“A pizza oven would have been better, but this is still better than those frozen abominations you buy. Can I read what she
said?”
“No! It’s embarrassing.”
“I thought you said it was good.”
“It is good. Embarrassingly good. Letting you read it will feel like boasting.”
He shook his head. “Just give me the laptop.”
She pushed the laptop towards him and focused on the pizza, trying not to feel self-conscious.
“Evie has done an extraordinarily good job under challenging circumstances and without support from management,” he read. “Despite a lack of experience she demonstrates excellent leadership and communication skills and her ideas are—”
“Maybe don’t read it aloud. I’m blushing.”
He scanned the rest quickly and looked up. “This is glowing.”
“Yes. And there’s plenty more like that. I honestly thought she’d been digging for dirt. Trying to find reasons to justify
to the company—which turns out to be her mother—to shut us down or sell us to Weasel features.” Evie took another slice of
pizza. “I should call her and apologise.”
“You’ll see her tomorrow.”
“I handled it badly. I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow. I was in the wrong and I need to fix it.” She grabbed her phone
and dialled, taking a deep breath. “No answer. Do you think she’s ignoring me? Or maybe I’ve upset her horribly and she’s
crying in bed.”
“Maybe her phone is switched off.”
“But why? It’s not that late, is it? I’ll call again and leave a message.” She dialled and waited. “Hi, Abby, it’s Evie. Thanks
for sending the reports through. I—they’re really good and not what I expected. I owe you an apology, and I didn’t want to
wait until tomorrow. Anyway, you’re not picking up but if you want to call me back then do, otherwise I’ll see you at the
hotel in the morning. And again, I’m sorry. We’re going to figure this out. Please don’t leave.”
Luca watched her. “Why are you being hard on yourself? She did lie to you, Evie.”
“I know. But she was obviously navigating a complicated situation with her mother who is also her boss. That can’t be easy.
Weird that she works with her mother, and I work with my dad.” She helped herself to another slice of pizza. “Now I think
about it she did ask me some questions about how I found it working with Dad. But it’s not the same, is it? My dad isn’t the
boss of the whole company.”
“Close your laptop now. It’s time to relax and stop chewing on it.”
“Are you using food analogies to comment on my stressful situation?”
He topped up her wine glass. “Food is all I know.”
“I wouldn’t say that—” She studied him across the table. “I’d say you know a few other things, too. Do you want me to describe
them in more detail on your blog?”
He put the bottle down slowly. “I do, but we both know the only reason you’re interested in me is because I can make pizza
that makes you forget all the pizzas you have ever eaten before.”
“That’s true, but not entirely. There are other things I like about you. For example, your eyelashes.”
“My eyelashes?”
“Yes. Most women would kill to have eyelashes like yours.”
“So if I burn my eyelashes off while cooking your pizza in a hot oven, that’s the end of our relationship?”
He knew she was feeling bad and he’d made her pizza, and now he was doing everything he could to make her laugh and distract
her. She liked him. She liked him so much she should probably be terrified.
And at least this game of verbal tennis took her mind off how bad she felt.
“It depends—would the pizza be burned too?”
He opened his mouth to respond but then her phone rang.
She assumed it was Abby and grabbed it, but then saw it was the night manager at the hotel.
“Oh please. Now what? There should be a limit to how much crap each day can deliver, don’t you think?” She took a breath and
answered it. “Rick? Is everything okay?” She listened. “She what? Are you serious? I’ll go to the hospital—are you sure? Well,
if she calls you, give her my number.”
Luca frowned. “Hospital?”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks, Rick.” She ended the call. “Chrissy Robinson took the kids to the beach this afternoon. Late afternoon. Holly got caught in a rip current. Sorry, I forget you don’t know the guests as well as I do. Holly is—”
“Her eldest. I know. She loves my fish goujons.” Luca’s expression was grim. “Tell me she’s okay.”
“She almost drowned, but fortunately she was rescued and now she’s in hospital.” Evie couldn’t begin to imagine how terrifying
that must have been for Chrissy. “They’re keeping her in overnight and Chrissy and the baby are staying with her.”
“Thank goodness for lifeguards.”
“Well, that’s the thing—” Evie still couldn’t quite believe what she’d heard. “There are no lifeguards on that beach after
4 p.m. It was Abby who rescued her.”
“Abby?”
“Yes. Rick heard it from Jim, who witnessed it from the harbour. Maybe that’s why she’s not answering.” She picked up her
phone and called Tristan. He answered immediately and she listened while he gave her a summary of what had happened. “She’s
in bed now? Okay, well I don’t want to wake her, so I’ll see her tomorrow.”
She ended the call and stared at Luca. “Tristan says she’s okay apart from a cut on her leg. He said she was tired, but that
was partly stress and partly a hangover—literally—from last night. Do you think I should go to the hospital to check on Chrissy?”
“Where’s her husband?”
“He’s in London. Rick said Chrissy called him but as it seems Holly is going to be okay he decided to carry on with the meetings
he has planned for tomorrow and come up for the weekend as planned. What a total b—” She stopped herself in time but Luca
nodded.
“I agree. I was thinking the same thing, only in Italian.”
“Who does that? She needs his support. She’s on her own with a baby and a sick child. He’s probably staying with his girlfriend or something, do you think?” She felt awful for Chrissy. “I think I should go to the hospital. Will you hate me if I desert you? Sorry.”
“Why are you apologising? I agree we should go to the hospital.”
“You don’t have to come.”
“I do. I don’t want them feeding Holly any old rubbish. She’s particular about what she eats, and food is an important part
of recovery.”
Evie grabbed a few things she thought Chrissy might find useful and stuffed them into a bag. “I had a glass of wine. We’d
better call a taxi.”
“I didn’t drink. I’ll drive. My car is parked up the road next to yours.”
“Why didn’t you drink?”
He flashed her a wicked smile. “I didn’t want to risk impairing my performance later.”
Her insides melted and she grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged him towards her. “There’s something I need to tell you.
Right now.”
“Could you tell me without tearing my shirt? I don’t think Chrissy wants to see me bare-chested.” But he slid his arms round
her and pulled her close. “What did you want to tell me?”
She lifted herself on her toes until her mouth was a breath away from his. “I like you. I really like you. And not only because
you can make pizza and have eyelashes like Bambi.”
“Good.” He lowered his mouth to hers, his kiss swift but devastating in its impact. “Because I really like you, too.”
She sighed against his mouth and reluctantly pulled away from him. “And now we really have to go.”
“We really do.”
“But we’ll come back here after.”
“We definitely will.”
She scooped up the bag and her house keys and then paused. “Wait—fish goujons?”
“Excuse me?”
“You said you make Holly fish goujons, but they’re not on the menu.”
“I know they’re not on the menu. I make them just for her. She was going through a fussy eating stage when she arrived a month
ago, sending everything back to the kitchen, so she and I had a heart-to-heart about what she might enjoy. She was clear.
Nothing slimy, nothing yucky, nothing smelly. My niece likes my fish goujons, so I tried those. Holly loves them. She also
loves my peanut chicken wings.”
“Aren’t they smelly?”
“They’re a good smell apparently.”
“And they’re also not on the menu.”
He shrugged. “I want happy diners, and Holly knows what she likes. She might be a restaurant critic one day.”
He’d talked to a five-year-old girl about what she wanted to eat. He’d been making her food that wasn’t on the menu.
As they left the house it occurred to her that there was a strong chance that she more than liked him.
She might be falling in love with him.