Chapter 2
Chapter Two
BEE
I wake up with a start and immediately groan. A tiny Christmas elf has taken up residence in my head, banging away on a very loud gong. I swallow, grimacing. My mouth tastes like spunk. Or maybe the inside of a very dissolute hamster’s cage.
I’m also so hot it’s suffocating. I push at the covers and go still as someone groans.
What the fuck? I pull the covers down slightly and peek over them. The redhead from last night is still here. He’s lying face down on my sheets, his hair a mess.
“Shit,” I whisper. I hate it when they stay over. Morning afters can be so incredibly awkward.
“Hello,” I say tentatively. I jump when he moves, but he just turns his face towards me and starts to snore. He’s drooling, and as the sheet slides downwards, I note that he has a very hairy arse.
“Erm, hello.” I sound like the king at a royal garden party. “Oi,” I say, toeing his leg. “Oi, Ted. It’s time to go.” I’m fairly sure that’s his name. The memory is lost in the alcohol haze of last night.
He carries on impersonating a roadside digger through the medium of his mouth, and I sigh. Loudly. But it doesn’t make any difference.
My head jerks when someone bangs on my flat door. “Bee, we’re outside,” Ivy shouts. “Are you ready?”
Fuck . I jump out of bed. Clothes are strewn everywhere, and two empty condom wrappers and an empty bottle of Baileys are lying sadly on the floor. “Fuck,” I repeat, out loud this time, and wrap a towel around my waist before hotfooting it to the door.
I fling it open and catch Ivy as she falls through and nearly face plants on the floor.
“What time is it?” I ask hoarsely.
“It’s eight o’clock.” She looks me up and down. “Are you travelling like that? It might be a bit cold.”
I glare at her, and then we both jump when a call of “Hello?” comes from the bedroom.
She bites her lip and turns to look at me with merriment in her eyes.
“Oh, shut up,” I hiss.
“He’s still here.”
“Obviously, unless I’ve discovered how to throw my voice.”
“You don’t look too comfortable with the one you’re using now. You’re very hoarse, Blowjob Boy.”
“Hello!” comes the shout again.
Ivy and I look at each other and giggle. “Shit,” I gasp. I take a breath and ask, “What do you mean ‘we’re here’?”
Ivy’s crept to the bedroom door and peeps inside. “Nice bum,” she mouths. She turns back to me and says, “Tom, Jack, and Steven are downstairs.”
I gape at her. “You’re kidding .”
“Nope. Are you ready?”
I gesture to my body. “Yes, of course I am. Fuck, they’re waiting outside?” I tiptoe over to the window and look down to where an Audi SUV is waiting in my parking spot, the engine running. “Shit,” I breathe. “I haven’t even packed yet.”
“ What ?”
I wince. “Ivy, indoor voice, please.”
“You haven’t packed? Oh my god. Tell me you’ve got stuff ready, at least.”
“No,” I say, starting to panic. “Oh my god .”
“Okay, calm down.”
We both look up as Ted appears wrapped in a sheet.
“Hello,” he says, grinning at Ivy. She smiles back at him.
I groan. “No time,” I say, darting past him into the bedroom. Ivy follows me in, explaining the situation to Ted.
“Wow,” she says, breaking off and looking around. “Were you burgled?”
“I know ,” I screech. “Help me.”
“Okay,” she says, trying not to laugh. “You get your toiletries. I’ll find your clothes.”
“Good idea.” I dart into the bathroom, grab my wash bag, and start chucking in handfuls of whatever shit I can find.
As I zip the bag closed, I hear a horn beep outside, and I race back into the bedroom.
Ivy is standing in front of my open case and is directing Ted as he moves around doing her bidding—fetching clothes and throwing them on the bed.
“Where’s your coat, Bee?” she asks.
I point in the direction of the lounge.
She shakes her head. “It isn’t in there. We just looked.”
“Isn’t it? Oh well, it isn’t that big. I’m sure we’ll come across it.” She wanders back into the lounge on a new quest to find my coat. “I’m so sorry,” I say to Ted. The sheet is now wrapped around him in a way I last saw in a textbook on the Romans.
He winks at me. “It’s a novel morning after. Usually, it’s tears or a headache.”
“Sounds like the title of the film they’ll make about my life,” I say gloomily.
He leans closer. “Last night was good, though.”
“It would probably have been a better morning after without the Genghis Khan of the wardrobe out there?” I say as Ivy yells from the lounge about packing underwear.
“Do you want me to pack your stuff, Bee?” she calls.
“No need. I can do it.” I look at the pile on the bed and start throwing stuff into the small case.
When I’m done, the case won’t close, so Ivy sits on top of it. Finally, it zips, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“What about shoes?” she says. “Your wardrobe has your old combat boots, a pair of Converse, and some dress shoes. Where are your walking boots?”
“What walking boots?”
Her eyes narrow. “We’ll be doing a lot of walking, so you need a good pair of boots. We discussed this last week.”
I dimly remember the conversation, but I’d been occupied with a tricky equation at the time, and it had left my brain. I wave a careless hand. “My Converse will be fine. I walk in all my shoes, so surely they qualify.”
“You’ll get terrible blisters, and they might get septic,” she says in a dire tone of voice. Her expression indicates she might be planning what she’ll wear to my funeral. She gives me a second look. “Are you going dressed like that, Bee?”
I look down. I’m still in my towel. “Shit.” After I drop the towel, Ted seems more appreciative than Ivy. I drag on jeans, a T-shirt I grab from the floor, and my old jacket, then kick my feet into my Converse. “There,” I mutter. “Done.”
“I think you’ve started a new trend in fashion,” she says sweetly.
“Really?”
“Yes. I’m sure next season we’ll see loads of models with unbrushed hair and crumpled clothes.”
“I know you’re being sarcastic.”
“I’d worry if you didn’t.” She grins at me. “I’m going downstairs to wait in the car.”
I grab my case and lower it to the floor, holding it steady so the wonky wheel doesn’t destabilise it. “Sorry to rush you,” I say to Ted, who’s managed to get dressed much quicker than me.
“No problem.”
We clatter down the stairs and approach the Audi. Tom is sitting in the driver’s seat with the window down, talking to Jack in the passenger seat. He looks over as we approach and grins at me.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” Ted calls back, offering him a rather flirtatious wave.
Tom’s gorgeous face sends a surge of nasty memories through my still-not-awake brain. That dismissive look he’d given me. And the arrogant way he’d spoken.
Without thinking, I drop my suitcase and grab Ted’s face. His eyes widen as I pull him down and kiss him hard, adding a little tongue for good measure. “Bye, lover,” I say as I pull away. “Be seeing you soon, Ted.”
He blinks when I step back. “Erm, yeah,” he says rather hesitantly. “My name’s not Ted, though,” he adds cheerfully.
“Jared?”
He shakes his head.
“Alfred?”
“Nope. It’s Oliver.” He waves and walks past the car towards the road.
Ivy sounds like she’s stifling a giggle, and Tom is observing me, his lovely mouth twitching as though suppressing a grin. I glare at him as I grab my case and pull it over to the car.
“Oh, is Ted Jared Alfred not coming with us?” Tom asks.
Ivy laughs as she comes around the car to help me shove my case in the boot. Next to the expensive pieces of luggage there, it looks a little scruffy and battered, which is rather indicative of my entire appearance.
“I wish I was sitting in the front seat,” Ivy whispers. “Tom’s got lovely thighs.”
“Ivy, you could sit on him and do a tap dance, and I wouldn’t care. If this car was a stretch limo, there would still not be enough room between him, his ego, and me.”
She nudges me. “All the more for me, then. Sal says he’s bi.”
“Have at it. I don’t intend to spend any time with him on holiday. You owe me so much for this.”
“Put it on the slate. Maybe it will balance out your department’s Halloween party.”
“It’s not my fault that Harold thought you were the entertainment.”
“He regretted it when he heard my singing voice.”
“Not as much as me.”
Matter resolved, we grin at each other. “Let’s get this done,” I say grimly.
“I think there were more enthusiastic rallying calls at the Battle of Trafalgar.”
TOM
It’s quiet in the car apart from the radio playing Chris Rea’s “Driving Home for Christmas.” Our companions vanished a while ago. Ivy went to get her friend, Bee, and Steven immediately headed to the chemist over the road.
I tap on the steering wheel in time to the song and glance at Jack. “How long do you think Steven is going to be?”
He looks up from his phone. “He only went to get some paracetamol.”
“How many minutes have to pass before it wouldn’t be rude to leave him behind?”
He snorts. “Shut up.”
“No, really. I’m asking for a friend. Is two minutes too long?” I sigh. “At the rate we’re going, the others will have been in Edinburgh for three days before we arrive.” He ignores me and smiles down at his phone. “Who are you texting anyway?”
“Arlo.”
“My brother?”
“Do you know another Arlo?”
“God, I hope not. One is enough.”
It’s always been a mystery to me how close Jack is with Arlo. They’re together at all our family events. They never seem to run out of things to say to each other. I love my brother to death, but if we spend more than an hour together, someone cries, and it’s usually me.
The music shifts to Paul McCartney singing “Wonderful Christmastime”, and I look up at the small block of flats we’re sitting in front of. The windows look very festive with Christmas lights twinkling in them. Even as I watch, a balcony door opens and Ivy waves down at us. I wave back and look at my watch. “How long has Ivy been in there?”
“Maybe she’s helping Bee with his case.”
“Remind me again. Have we met him before?”
“Is that the royal we, or just you?”
I nudge him. “Well?”
“I don’t think you’d met him before last night. I hadn’t either. Sal says he’s lovely—very funny. And Ivy adores him.”
“Did I meet him last night? I can’t remember.”
“Because you were in a temper.”
I grimace at the memory. “I was but you know it doesn’t happen often, and it never lasts long. I can’t stay cross with anyone. Even Steven .”
“I can’t hear you,” Jack says in a singsong voice.
I shoot him an affectionate look. He’s my best friend, the best man I’ve ever known, but I cannot stand that fucker Steven. He plays on all of Jack’s anxieties and picks on him. All in this sugar-sweet voice that suggests he’s doing it for Jack’s benefit. I cannot fathom why he’s with him, but Jack’s ability to keep trying is a major theme of his life.
I sigh, but I’ve opened my mouth about Steven a bit too much lately. It’s not fair on Jack. If Steven is the man Jack chooses to be with, then I should stop putting Jack in the middle.
The door to the apartment block opens, and Ivy appears.
“She seems nice, and Sal really likes her,” I observe.
Jack looks up from his phone. “She’s lovely.”
“And she’s by herself. Are we meeting the mysterious Bee before the end of this millennium or the next?”
He rolls his eyes, and I’m laughing when the door opens behind Ivy, and two men step out. One is a tall redhead, and the other one …
My laughter dies as something goes still inside me. The other man is gorgeous. He’s small and slender with thick hair the colour of chocolate buttons. It falls in waves around a sharp little face. He’s wearing skinny jeans, battered Converse, and a blue T-shirt, and when he turns to face us, I see the shirt is the same colour as his eyes. They’re pretty. His eyes are also rather intense.
I nudge Jack, who’s gone back to his phone. “ What ?” he mumbles.
“Is that Bee?”
He peers past me and then grins and waves. “Yeah, that’s him.”
“So why is he glaring at me like I’m Fred West at a builder’s convention?”
“You’re making things up.”
“I’m not.” I try a smile at Bee. “Hey,” I call out the window like a lame twat.
His glare intensifies.
Jack sighs. “What did you do to him?”
“ Me ? I didn’t do anything. I’ve never met him before.”
“I think you could still manage to wind someone up, even then.”
We both go quiet as Bee grabs the redhead and kisses him passionately. I’m aware of a funny feeling in my chest, but I can’t figure out what it is. “Is that his boyfriend?”
“I don’t think he’s got one. I’m sure Ivy said that last night. Yes. I remember I asked if he’d got a boyfriend, and she laughed.”
“Why?”
“Determinedly single, apparently.”
I shoot him a look. If only you were the same . I’m pretty sure I should be knighted for keeping those words to myself.
I brighten as I listen to Bee’s conversation. He’s trying and failing to guess the name of the bloke who’d exited the building with him. Definitely an awkward, morning-after exchange.
“Oh, is Ted Jared Alfred not coming with us?” I call, after the redhead drifts off with a dreamy smile. I can’t resist winding up Bee a little. His glare ignites a spark in my chest—like a reward for capturing his attention.
I watch in the driver’s mirror as Ivy and Bee talk in whispers at the back of the car. I angle the mirror for a better look. Even side-on and half-blocked by the boot, he’s stunning. The pair are hissing at each other now, although neither looks particularly bothered by the fact. Then they both smile, and Ivy leaves him to climb into the car.
I smile at her. “Everything okay?”
“Oh, fine. I was just helping Bee pack.” She pauses, obviously realising she’s just dropped her friend in it. “I mean, just pack the last few necessities.”
The door opens, and Bee climbs in, bringing the scent of vanilla with him.
“Sorry I’m late,” he mutters.
“Don’t bother thinking of an excuse. I already told them,” Ivy says.
He groans.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say with a wink. “We’ve all been there.”
“Well, you have,” Jack says. “Remember Prague?”
“How lovely that you’ve torn yourself away from your phone to mention that ,” I say.
Jack chuckles, and I turn to grin at Ivy. I extend the grin to Bee, but he just stares at me.
“Hey,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”
“And you,” he says almost reluctantly. He meets my gaze, and I’m struck by how pretty the blue is. A brilliant shade like you’d find on a peacock feather.
“What happened in Prague?” Ivy asks.
I force my eyes from Bee’s and answer. “We stayed at my parents’ house the night before we went to Prague last year. We were being picked up at five in the morning, but I had a skinful the night before. Anyway, I woke up with the minibus outside and panicked. I ran naked into Jack’s room shouting at him to get ready but took a wrong turn and ended up in the spare bedroom where a lady was staying who my dad was writing songs for.”
Ivy laughs. “Really?”
I grin at her. “She said it was the nicest alarm call she’d ever had.”
Jack groans. “I’m glad I was spared.”
“Does your dad write a lot of songs for ladies, then?” Bee’s question sounds reluctantly interested.
“He’s a songwriter,” Jack explains. “He mostly writes for rock bands, though.”
“Yeah, if someone is screaming so loud you can’t hear the lyrics in a song, then it’s odds on my dad wrote it.”
“He did write that lovely song about autumn leaves that Freda James sang,” Jack points out.
I shake my head. “He was stoned. I’m pretty sure that was actually supposed to be about mud and death.”
Jack turns to Ivy and Bee. “Freddy’s picking up Georgina and Theo, so you’ll meet them later.”
Bee wrinkles his nose. “Is that Sal’s flatmate and her boyfriend?”
I nod. “Fair warning, they argue a lot , but they seem to really enjoy it. They have more dramas than Eastenders . Last week, Georgina accused Theo of being unfaithful while we were standing by the veg counter in Sainsbury's. It was great for them but not so much for the people trying to get to the broccoli.”
The door opens, and Steven climbs into the back seat. “God, it’s cold,” he says. He looks over at Bee and Ivy. “Hey, it’s good to see you.”
I want to roll my eyes. Steven is always like this with new people—nice as pie and wanting to know everything about them. But soon enough he becomes judgemental and cutting.
Bee offers him a more genuine smile than the one he gave me. “Nice to see you again.”
I’m aware of a silly sense of disappointment. If this pretty man likes Steven, it’s obvious we’re not going to be friendly.
“Okay, time to roll,” I say flatly. Jack looks enquiringly at me, but I don’t respond.
A few hours later, I stretch in my seat and groan. My back is killing me.
Jack and Ivy are asleep, and my other companions are busily involved in the same discussion they’ve been having for the last fifty miles. It’s something to do with Steven’s work, but I’m unsure what as I lost interest after the first thirty boring seconds. I’m gratified to see in my driver’s mirror that even Bee is starting to look glazed.
He glances up and catches my gaze. His eyes widen with what might be concern, and I quickly focus on the road.
Breaking Steven’s monologue, he asks me, “Are you okay?”
“ Me ?” I ask, startled.
“Yes.”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“You sounded like you were in pain.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. My back is hurting a bit.”
“Oh. Didn’t you do a long drive yesterday as well?”
“I did. How did you know?” I ask, astonished.
“We spoke last night.”
“ Did we?”
For some reason, the air turns frigid again. When Steven gives a sympathetic huff, I direct a glare at him.
“Our conversation was obviously very memorable,” Bee says dryly.
I frantically think of what I can say to keep him talking to me. He has a lovely voice—low, with an undercurrent of amusement in it. I should probably apologise, but before I can open my mouth, he says in a cool voice, “There’s a service station a few miles ahead. Maybe you should stop for a break.”
“Oh, good plan,” I say heartily. “Good plan .”
Steven snorts, and Jack wakes with a start. “Did I miss something?” he mumbles.
“Not much,” I mutter. “Give the others a ring and ask if they want to meet us at the services.”
“They’re behind us now?” When I nod, he says, “See, I was right. We didn’t lose much time.”
“Only because it took Freddy half an hour to fit Georgina’s cases in the boot. He rang while you were asleep. He said he might have been a world Jenga champion if only he’d applied himself to those talents earlier in life.”
We drove over the border a while back, and the scenery has already changed, so the services are nice and surrounded by snow-topped hills. It’s freezing cold, and I opt to stay outside by the car, letting the chilly air wake me up. Bee takes his own icy air inside, vanishing into the restaurant with Steven and Ivy.
I watch Freddy pull up, stop the engine, and open the car’s door. “Morning, darling,” he shouts across the car park.
“Morning, sugar tits.”
It takes a while for him to extract himself, as he’s six feet five inches and all muscle. An old couple nearby eyes his bulk and shaved-close hair dubiously, which is a shame because he’s the sweetest person I know and has never met anyone he couldn’t befriend.
“Where’s the tosser?” he calls.
Okay, not everyone. I nod at the restaurant. “In there with Bee and Ivy.” I blink as he comes closer. “Why are you wearing a tutu over your jeans?”
“It’s tartan.”
“Oh, okay. That explains everything.”
My sister gets out of the car and joins us. “Bloody hell, it’s freezing,” she squeals. Her eyes narrow. “Why aren’t you in there?”
“Needed some fresh air,” I say lamely.
She eyes me as if she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, which is understandable.
I spy Theo and Georgina asleep in the back seat of Freddy’s car. They’re leaning against each other, and it’s probably the only time all day they haven’t been arguing.
“Tell me—have I done something to piss Bee off?” I ask Sal.
“When did you meet him?” she asks. “I can start the pissed-off countdown clock from that moment.”
“You’re not funny,” I grump. “No matter what your friends say.”
She narrows her eyes for a moment. “I remember.” She clicks her fingers. “You were a bit sharp with him last night.”
“I was?”
She nods. “Yeah, when you were talking to yonder cockwomble.”
“And who’s that?” Jack says, approaching us from the left. He raises an eyebrow. “Cockwomble?”
“Oh, I was talking about Freddy,” my sister says, lying glibly. I’ve always envied her this ability. I can’t lie for shit. Never have been able to.
Freddy yawns, as affable as ever. “That’s me.” He looks around. “Why are we all standing in the carpark?”
Sal waves her hand. “Tom’s pissed off Bee.”
Freddy blinks. “What, already ?”
“Well, he has known him for more than twelve hours, Freddy.”
“Oh yeah, sorry.”
“Hey,” I say, and they break into laughter. Then I squeak as Freddy seizes me and starts a slow two-step around the car park. “Dance with me, Tom,” he croons. “That’ll make you feel better.”
“Or sick,” I point out as he gives me some less-than-elegant spins.
“There’s always a critic.”
BEE
I look out of the restaurant window at the car park, where Freddy is spinning Tom around while the others laugh. I let myself wish I was out there with them laughing rather than in here where Steven’s on hour four of being critical of people. It’s like listening to someone read the Daily Mail .
His voice stops, and I pin an interested look on my face. He gets up. “I’ll go and get another coffee.”
I nudge Ivy, who seems to have sunk into a coma with her eyes open. “Eh, what?” she mumbles.
“Coffee?” I say.
She gives Steven a weak smile. “That would be lovely.”
“I’ll let you get your own,” he replies.
Ivy makes a sound like she’s trying not to laugh.
“Won’t Tom and Freddy want to be getting going?” I ask him.
He follows my gaze to the group outside. Tom is now saying something and waving his arms around while the others laugh. They all look bright and lively in the cold air. A couple have emerged from Freddy’s car, yawning sleepily. The woman has long red hair and a svelte figure and is wrapped in a black coat that looks expensive. She’s holding hands with a tall, dark-haired man. I presume these must be the broccoli-blocking Theo and Georgina that Tom mentioned earlier. I eye them interestedly. I’m all in favour of drama as long as it doesn’t involve me in any way, so I’m going to keep an eye on them for my holiday entertainment.
“King Tom can stand to wait. I don’t dance to his tune,” Steven says sourly before stalking off to get coffee.
Ivy watches him go and then turns to me expectantly.
“Oh no,” I say. “What now ?”
“You must see it, Bee.”
“See what?”
“I don’t think Steven’s very nice.”
“He’s just a little socially awkward with people he doesn’t know.”
“No, that’s you,” she says simply. “You’re sympathetic to him because you can be awkward sometimes. You’re not great with strangers because your brain is usually occupied with work, and you’re fifty percent shy, and fifty percent can’t be bothered. But, Bee, you’re usually kind even at your briskest.”
“You don’t know Steven,” I automatically protest, even though I have a sneaking suspicion she’s right. Everything he says seems to be about making him look good against other people’s inadequacies.
“And you don’t know him either,” she says. “At least not well enough to defend him.”
I open my mouth to argue and then close it because I can’t.
“You see,” she crows. “Steven’s literally been talking about himself for half an hour. He never let either of us speak, and I’m fine with that, but he hasn’t said one nice word about anyone, and that’s horrid. For example, everyone else in the group seems to love Tom.” She gestures toward the window. “So why is Steven so snarky about him?”
I spin my empty coffee cup thoughtfully, watching the action outside. Tom’s smile is wide, and he’s very beautiful. He’s also been trying to engage me in conversation during the drive, and I’ve been rude.
I squirm. “I think I might have made a teeny mistake.”
“ Finally .”
I spread my hands. “You would have done the same.”
“Maybe or maybe not. You were drunk last night and made one of your snap judgements.”
“Sometimes they’re right. Look at Stewart.”
“That is your only success in fifteen years, but you cling onto that, lovely.”
“Thank you.” I bite my lip. “I think Tom might be a nice bloke.”
“I think you’re right. He didn’t have to give us a lift, but he has. He could have been grumpy about the fact that you overslept and kept him waiting this morning, but he wasn’t. He’s been funny and kind so far. He lost his temper last night with Steven—for what seemed to be justifiable reasons—and I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude to you.”
“It wasn’t just that.” I look around and hesitate. “He looked right through me.”
“Oh, babe.” She pats my hand. “I know why that bothered you, but honestly, rudeness is sixty percent intent, and I really don’t think he meant to be unkind. He was upset about being locked out of his house, and I don’t think he even registered most of the people at the bar.”
I wince, and she kisses my cheek. It’s one of the curses and perks in life to have a friend who knows me inside out. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.
“I think this holiday might do us both good,” she says thoughtfully. “We need to meet new people.”
“Oh, please don’t say that ,” I say faintly. After she chuckles, I say, “I’m going to nip to the loo, and then I’m going to get him a drink as a peace offering.”
“That’s a good idea.” She sucks in a bolstering breath. “And I will stay here and keep Steven busy.”
“Ask not for whom the bell tolls,” I say, getting up and leaving her chuckling to herself.
Ten minutes later, I edge my way carefully through the crowds in the service station, carrying a cup of hot chocolate and a sticky toffee muffin. I dodge two children running straight at me and give a wide berth to a man dancing to a slot machine’s music. He looks and sounds like he’s been on a twenty-four-hour bender, and I’m momentarily distracted by his dance moves. When I manage to turn away, I walk into a solid object.
“Ouf!” I abruptly lose my grip on the stuff in my hands. The muffin falls on the floor, and the hot chocolate goes everywhere.
“ Fuck !”
I widen my eyes, knowing with resignation who I just spilt a drink on. “You,” I breathe.
Tom winces, pulling his jumper away from his body. “Me.”
“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” After setting the now-empty hot chocolate cup on a nearby table, I dig into my pocket and grab the napkins I was given in the coffee shop. “Get this off,” I urge, tugging at Tom’s jumper. “Off.”
He raises his arms and lets me pull the soggy jumper off. I immediately raise his T-shirt and anxiously assess his skin for scalds. All I see is seemingly acres of gorgeous olive skin and tight muscles. “Um,” I say dreamily, wiping him with the napkins just in case.
I realise I’m basically feeling him up when his hands stop mine. “Um, it’s good that you’re not burnt,” I say in a much brisker tone. I look up to find him watching me. His eyes are a storm-washed grey, their expression bewildered. “Sorry,” I say again. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you sure you’re okay?”
He blinks. “I’m fine. I’ve just never got to second base in a service station before.”
“Really?”
He narrows his eyes for a moment and then shakes his head. “Nah. I have actually done that.”
My lip twitches and then I nod thoughtfully. “It’s good to embrace all opportunities in life.” I look at the sodden bundle of knitwear in his hand. “Sorry about your jumper.”
“Why? It’ll wash.” He takes the wet napkins off me, throws them in the bin, and then pulls his T-shirt down. I spare a second to mourn the disappearance of those abs and when I meet his gaze again, he grins. “It’s a good job it was Costa, though. They put so much cream in their hot chocolate it’s practically cold anyway.”
He’s being so gracious, considering how rude I’ve been, and I feel ashamed of myself. Before I can tell him how sorry I am, he gives me an anxious smile, and says, “I think I need to apologise to you, Bee.”
“ Why ?”
He hesitates. “Well, apparently, I was rude to you last night.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah, I sort of think I was. In my defence, I didn’t mean to be rude to you. My rudeness was directed at Steven, and he deserved it.”
I repress a smile. “Maybe you were a bit dismissive,” I admit.
“Was I? I’m really sorry.” He comes a little closer. “If a naked Santa Claus had tap danced through the pub, I wouldn’t have noticed. I was too focused on Steven.”
Now I really feel ashamed of myself. “I’m sorry too,” I say in a rush.
“You are? Why?”
“Because I’ve been shockingly rude to you.”
“Nah, you haven’t.”
“Yes, I have,” I say firmly. “I made a snap judgement about you. I’m usually right about these things.” I cross my fingers behind my back to negate the lie. “But this time I wasn’t, and I’ve been crappy.”
He stares at me for a second, his eyes bright. “Apology accepted,” he says gravely.
“Just like that?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? He holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom Wright.”
For some reason, I hesitate, and then, swallowing, I place my hand in his. I feel a shiver run through me at the contact, and his eyes seem to darken.
“Hello.” I clear my throat. “I’m Bee Bannister.”
He licks his lips almost nervously and then shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says hoarsely.
Footsteps sound behind him, and Freddy walks past us. “Second base again in a service station,” he observes. “These places are your killing grounds, Tom.”
Tom glares after him, but I start to laugh, and he gives me a smile.
“Here’s to fresh starts,” I say boldly.
“Good plan.”