Chapter 3 #2
“She likes you.” My heart gives an extra beat at his blunt words, and I clear my throat wishing he’d leave the subject alone. I can’t afford to even think about it... “She does,” he insists kindly, “and you like her. And that’s OK, Eli. Seriously - ”
“She’s our receptionist,” I retort, “and after giving you shit for chasing the last two or three away, I’m not going to be a fucking hypocrite.” I smirk, hoping he’ll let it go now.
“Ah, but,” he says with a bigger smirk than mine, “you wouldn’t do what I did with them.
Or what you do with the women you’ve been with since your divorce.
You wouldn’t punk out after one night.” He gives me one of his Serious Leo looks.
He sees himself as very much the Older Brother Figure out of the three of us, even though I’m older than him by nearly three months and Dean’s only a year younger. “Not with her.”
I shake my head. I’m not budging on this.
“I’m not gonna go there, and you shouldn’t be encouraging me,” I snap to put him off continuing this nonsense.
I’m not sure why he’s pushing this. It could only lead to heartache and loss, and I thought he was smart enough, and had the sensitivity, to get that.
He’s an intuitive guy, with all the insight into my situation he could possibly need, and normally he’s kind enough to let it be and to respect my decision, even if he disagrees with it. I don’t know why he’s doing this now.
He shrugs. “Alright,” he says, shaking his head.
“Shame. I was hoping we could all get to know her better, as a team. Find out more about her.” He wanders over to the door, very obviously knowing how tempting the idea is to me, to be able to get to know her better while everyone else does as well.
The perfect cover. My jaw tightens. “Like what she likes to do in her spare time. What music she likes. What tattoo she’d most like, and where she’d have it…
So many questions.” He says, and gives me a final knowing look.
I smile slightly as I jerk my head in the direction of the exit.
He’s bugging the living shit out of me, but I know he means well.
He has, however, deliberately left me with a massive pile of temptation to wrestle with.
“Em,” I hear him call further down the corridor, “we’re taking you to the pub.
Drinks are on Uncle Leo.” He knocks on a door.
“Sadie, let’s go.” There is a pause. “Dean, pub?” His voice becomes muffled as the door to reception closes, but the tone of Emily’s voice as she responds sounds happy, so I guess she’s accepted his offer. Well, his order, really.
I lean on the head of my chair and take a beat to think.
I picture clearing up in here double quick and going with them.
I picture maybe sitting next to her in a beer garden for the entire evening as we all drink and relax after a hard day’s work.
I picture making her laugh, and that smile I spend way too much time thinking about…
I shouldn’t go.
I really, really shouldn’t.
Emily
“Definitely your round next, Sadie. You’re prettier than me, so you’ll get served quicker,” Leo comments as he sets another tray of drinks down on the table in front of us all and passes them around as he sits opposite me.
We’re in a beautiful and relatively busy beer garden, with clematis draped over a trellis and a brand new barbecue grill standing inactive in the corner.
Sadie raises an eyebrow, and he winks. He hands me my second diet coke of the night.
It means so much to me that they didn’t put any pressure on me to have a ‘proper’ drink.
I don’t drink a lot of alcohol generally - usually just at Christmas - and that has always generated a lot of unwanted comments and peer pressure. Not a bit of it this time.
They’re a great crowd, and I am very aware how lucky I am. It’s been a long, long time since I sat in a pub with friends. My friends, that is. I’d forgotten how good it feels. I smile at the thought.
“What’s that big ol’ smile for?” Leo asks me with an answering grin.
That accent of his is intriguing, a perfect mix of English and American; since I started working at Wishbone, I've heard him say ass and arse in a near equal ratio. And I’ve learned over the past week and a half that nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, gets past Leo’s eagle eyes.
He knew without asking that Sadie had a headache on Tuesday and, without a word, dropped some Nurofen on the table next to her with a glass of water.
And he already seems to sense stuff about me, like when my thoughts wander to a darker place.
A more perceptive, empathetic human I don’t think I’ve ever met.
“Oh,” I mumble, casting around for a reason to be smiling like a dingus at a half pint of coke, “it’s.
..just been a really good week.” I don’t want to tell them the truth: that a simple trip to the pub has me feeling on top of the world; that I’ve laughed more in the past week and a half working at the parlour than I have in the past four years of my life; that I’d forgotten what it was like to have friends of my own, that the four of them alone were worth the upheaval of moving, and that I’m touched beyond words that they’ve adopted me as one of them, with no questions asked.
Because they truly have.
“I’ve gotta say, I am so glad you answered the ad,” Sadie says, sipping her Doom Bar next to me. “It’s great to have some professionalism from reception for once.”
“Ouch,” Leo chuckles.
She gives him a sardonic look. “Morning, Leo, can I get you anything at all, Leo, ooooohhhhhhh, Leo, you’re sooooooooo talented,” she mimics with an eye roll. “Meanwhile, we had no black ink for nearly a week because they were too busy dribbling over you to order sufficient stock.”
“Can you blame ’em?” Leo says with an innocent shrug, and Dean chuckles silently. He’s looking a bit brighter and less worn out than he has for most of the week.
“I can when I don’t have my inks,” Sadie quips back. “Put your ovaries away, darling, and do your frickin’ job. Emily can manage to get shit done, so there’s no excuse. And you know why you hired them all, especially that last one. What was her name? 'Becky', or something?" She says sarcastically.
“Hey, sweetheart, you had all the eye candy you could want in the three of us. We all deserved some.”
“Nice to know I didn’t count,” she laughs good-naturedly. I love their banter. It’s great fun, and makes me laugh whenever I catch it during the day. I wish I had their knack for it.
“You have Peter,” he reminds her with a quirk of his scarred eyebrow, “or believe me, we’d all ‘dribble’ over you, Red.”
She rolls her eyes again and shakes her head, giving him an amused exasperated look.
I haven’t yet met Sadie’s partner, but he really must be something if all three of these men are like water off a duck’s back to her.
She and I have lunch together every day, and she talks about Peter a lot.
He’s an up and coming Economics lecturer at the University of Foxton, and she’s fiercely proud of him.
They’ve been together around four years, and I’ve only seen one photo of him on her Instagram.
He’s in the shadows at a distance, so I haven’t had a good look at him yet.
She says he doesn’t like being in photos much.
Leo, on the other hand, is whipping out his mobile. “Selfie time!” he declares, waving his hand to get us all to bunch up.
Sadie nods, and waves me closer to her. “Go on, then,” she says to him, and slings her arm around me.
I’m still so in awe of her confidence and her wardrobe; today she’s rocking the Thelma and Louise look in an old band t-shirt and ripped jeans, but what would look slovenly on me looks chic as all hell on her, and I don’t know how she does it.
Though I imagine the raging, unstoppable natural beauty must help.
Dean leans next to me, his head resting lightly on my shoulder.
His mop of bronze hair tickles my jaw a little.
He’s got what you might call a ‘nice' face; not as obviously, jaw droppingly handsome as Leo and Eli, but he’s appealingly expressive, and when his blue eyes light up with a smile, he’s sex on legs.
We’re getting on really well. I’m trying to learn a little more ASL every night, and the gaps in my knowledge are easily accommodated with his iPad’s notepad app.
He’s very patient with me as I learn, and we haven’t found the communication barrier to be a big problem so far.
And then there’s Leo, always with a ready smile.
He’s leaning back at a bizarre angle against Sadie’s stomach, holding his phone up until he finds an angle where we all fit, snapping a shot once we’re all smiling.
“Beautiful,” he says, sitting up again and fiddling with his phone.
“Straight onto Instagram." Leo has been the soul of patience as he trained me up, and not a day goes by without at least five hugs, or an arm slung around my shoulder as he tells me something to make me laugh, always cheerful, never moody. At least, not that I've seen.
While Sadie asks Dean about his client this morning, I covertly whip out my phone and Google until I find Leo’s post.
Congratz to our Emily for a great first week with us at @wishbonetattoos! You’ll speak to her lovely self if you call up to book an appointment with us. Best hurry, the spare slots are filling up fast! #NewReceptionist #OneOfUs #WeLoveYouEm
I swallow hard over the lump in my throat at his kind words. Everyone in the photo looks happy and relaxed. Even me. I take a screenshot, even though it'll always be there on Instagram, and email it to myself. I don't ever want to lose this pic. I might even make it my phone's background.
I put my phone down and look up. Leo is watching me, and winks. I flush and smile.