Chapter 8
Eight
K eira, who had given up on her sad-looking salad, munched her way through half a ham and cheese panini that she'd stolen from my plate.
She was a curvaceous girl with chestnut locks, a round, happy face and a fashion sense that kept you on your toes.
Today she was sporting leather trousers and a jacket she had decorated with sequins in the shape of peacock feathers.
She listened studiously as I filled her in on the events of the last twenty four hours.
"Bloody hell," she mumbled around a mouthful of my lunch.
“I don't even know where to start." She reached across the table for my Diet Coke and took a sip.
Her sparkling water remained untouched as usual.
"Actually, I think I need to see exactly what we're dealing with first." She pulled out her phone and seconds later, let out a low whistle, followed by ‘ sweet holy Jesus’ .
She turned her phone to me, showing me a photo of the man himself.
“This him?” She asked and I nodded. “Sweet holy Jesus and mother Mary.” She muttered again as she scrolled through image after image of Alfie Tell. All of them were press shots, apparently he wasn't big on social media, and in several of them he had Angie Carter on his arm.
Keira looked impressed, and how could she not be? After another minute of scrolling, she put her phone down with a shake of her head, as if she couldn't stand to look at that level of beauty any longer.
"So, are you really not going to take the project?"
"Honestly, I don't know. I don't want to step on Mark's toes and I'd have to give up my weekends and?—"
"You're worried you'll fuck it up," she finished for me, voicing my unspoken fears.
I couldn't help giving her an affectionate smile. She knew me so well.
"Lo, you're talented. I know those fuckers at the College of Whatever keep turning you down, but fuck them!
You've got an opportunity here to show what you can do, and not just in someone's back garden or wherever, but on a huge piece of property for an international company.
This is huge, Lo! If Versace called me and asked me to design for them I'd be losing my fucking mind!
" Keira currently worked as a seamstress assistant for our local theatre and she’d read every copy of Vogue ever published.
She and I were in the same boat career-wise.
"But what if he's just dangling that 'opportunity' in front of my face to get me to sleep with him?"
"Then he's an arse, but you'd be an idiot not to find out," she finished, taking another decisive sip of my drink.
"I'll think about it." She was right, I was scared of failing at something I wanted so badly. Plus the 'opportunity' had come wrapped in unspoken caveats that had my palms sweating.
"Good, now what about this guy? If you take the project I'm guessing you'll see a lot of him?"
"Normally no, but I have a feeling he would find ways of seeing me." I took my drink back and stuck the straw in my mouth to stop myself from saying anything else. She grinned at me and I scowled.
"That's kind of hot." She winked. My best friend would be much better suited to Mr Tell than me. She wouldn't have hesitated to take him up on his rooftop offer.
"It’s kind of creepy," I retorted.
She elbowed her rejected salad to the side and reached for the dessert menu. "Lo, you're the only girl in the world that would be upset about getting her dream job and a date from a hot guy all in one phone call."
"It’s not like that. I told you about the thing on the roof."
"Yeah and I admit that was out of line but he backed off straight away, right? And he returned your phone, gift wrapped for fuck’s sake!"
That was true but that wasn't the point. He had backed off, but only because he'd recalculated and formed a new plan to get at me.
"I felt uneasy when I was with him yesterday. I don't know how to explain it. Besides that, he was an arrogant prick. You know I hate that." My phone vibrated in my bag. I took it out and frowned when I saw his name flashing on the screen. I showed Keira, and her brows shot up.
"I don't think you're the only one feeling out of control." Her eyes sought mine but I avoided her gaze. I rejected his call and threw my phone back in my bag. I fiddled with my necklace, rubbing my thumb over the glass-encased flower.
"He's not Adam," she whispered so the people at the next table wouldn't hear.
"I know that." Technically, Adam hadn't hurt me.
Not physically. But he had frightened me.
My relationship with him had been a hard time in my friendship with Keira.
She'd seen from the beginning what I hadn't. She’d tried to tell me, I hadn’t listened, and when I'd learned she'd been right all along, our friendship had taken time to rebuild.
"Okay, so let’s break it down. Do you think he'd hurt you?" she asked, serious for once.
I thought about it for one long minute. "No, I don't.”
"So, you're afraid of getting your feelings hurt?
I get it, truly I do. Your dad, your mum, your gran…
anyone would have issues after all that, but Lo, if you don't start taking some emotional risks, you're never going to get your heart out of this town, and your mum wouldn't want you to stay here forever.
So, next time he calls, answer the damn phone and jump. You can't live in a box forever."
When I arrived back at work, one of the nursery assistants waved me over to tell me that Rosie wanted to see me.
Oh shit. She must have heard about yesterday's debacle. My stomach sank. This was not going to be good.
I sought her out in the herb garden as instructed.
She was kneeling on the ground, potting new seedlings with the ever-faithful Daisy lying in the shade close by.
A man I didn't recognise knelt beside her.
She looked up as I approached and broke out into a smile.
Okay, I guess she couldn't be that pissed.
"Oh good, you're here! Well, you'll never guess what!
I've had a phone call from Mr Tell himself!
" Oh no. Oh no, no, no. "Oh! But first, this is Bradley Mason.
I just hired him as our new grower. Bradley, this is Lola O'Connell, she…
" Rosie trailed off, failing as I so often did to think of a proper job title for me.
I covered my embarrassment with a smile and looked up at Bradley. "I do the filing." I stuck out my hand and when he took it, I could feel the earth on his skin. For other people that might have been off-putting, but for me it was wonderful.
"It's nice to meet you." He smiled an easy smile that I doubted ever left his face.
He was dressed like every other grower who worked here: muddy boots, ripped, dirt-covered jeans, and an old t-shirt that displayed a strong pair of tanned biceps.
He dragged his hand through his dirty blond curls, trying to neaten it but only making it worse.
"Bradley, would you give us a moment please?" Rosie cut in. He nodded, gave me a parting smile, and stepped away. Rosie turned to me, a vacant expression on her face. "What were we talking about?"
"Mr Tell called you," I reminded her reluctantly.
"Oh, yes that's right! It seems you made quite an impression yesterday." She eyed me with a raised brow.
"I can explain."
"No need." She waved her trowel at me before kneeling again and sticking it back into the earth.
"He explained everything. He said you turned down his offer of your own project because you felt it would be unprofessional?
" She turned her face up to me, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun. "Come on now, Lola! That's just silly!"
That sly devil. That sly, sneaky devil had just hurdled over me and gone straight to my boss. Annoyance clenched in my stomach. He was not going to win this one. He wasn't.
"It wasn't just for that reason."
"Well whatever the reason, I told him I was absolutely fine with it.
I insist on it in fact. You did an excellent job on the Boutique Garden here, so it's about time you expanded your skill base!
He asked if you might be free for a meeting with Mr Fitzpatrick tonight and I told him of course you would be. "
You did what?
"I can't, I?—"
"You're meeting him at Harrington House at seven," she said so firmly that my mouth snapped shut in defeat.
"He really is the most charming man," she sighed.
I wondered if she really had spoken to Mr Tell, because unless he had a split personality disorder, there was no way she could have found that arrogant arse charming.
I turned and stalked off to my cabin, my fists clenched in frustration. I was just grateful that the meeting was with Riley and not Mr Tell.