Million Love Songs(32)

‘I can’t come to Paris with you, Mason. That would be stupid.’

‘OK.’ He shrugs. ‘But I could come in and discuss it further.’

I push him away. ‘Nice try.’ Then I kiss his cheek, a friendly peck. ‘I’m going now. My bed is calling.’

‘Your bed’s calling me too.’ He gives me pathetic eyes.

‘I know bed language,’ I tell him, firmly. ‘And my bed is very definitely saying “Stay out”.’

He grins good-naturedly and starts the engine of his car. ‘I know when I’m beaten.’

I open the door and get out. ‘Goodnight, Mason. Thanks for the lift home. I do appreciate it.’

‘Think about Paris,’ he says, then he roars off into the night and I check round to see if any of my neighbour’s curtains are twitching.

‘Paris,’ I say with a scoff as I open my door.

In the bedroom, cut-out Gary Barlow is waiting for me. I throw myself onto the bed and sigh. ‘What do you think about me going to Paris with Mason, Gazza Bazza?’

But, as always, Gary keeps his opinion to himself.





Chapter Twenty-Seven





Charlie and I are on the late shift together the next day. She looks as rough as I feel. We are sitting on what we’ve christened ‘our’ bench half an hour before we have to start work. Me with a coffee, Charlie with an e-cig and a hangover. The industrial bins hide us from the customers who are enjoying the sunshine in our beer garden, so we’re not likely to be asked, inadvertently, for menus or something. We skulk here while we have our obligatory pre-shift natter.

‘Where did you disappear to last night?’ my friend asks, narrowing her eyes as she puffs out a cloud of vapour.

I could lie and, I have to say, that it’s very tempting. I know that Charlie will be very disapproving and she has every right to be. But she has laser vision and can see right through me, so I’d better come clean. ‘Mason rocked up outside – unexpectedly.’ I want to make that very clear. ‘He gave me a lift home.’

She frowns at me and nicks a sip of my coffee. ‘I’m not liking the sound of this.’

‘He’s OK.’ I insist.

‘There’s no way you got out of that car without snogging him.’

‘We did have a bit of a snog,’ I confess. ‘In my defence, I had rather a lot to drink and was wearing a ra-ra skirt. I was feeling quite reckless.’

‘He’s an arch manipulator, Ruby. I’ve warned you. Shagger Soames likes getting his own way.’

‘I’m a big girl and I’m treading very carefully. Trust me.’ I pick at the rotting wood and marvel at the fact that we don’t get splinters in our bottoms. ‘Besides, who did you go home with?’

‘I shared a cab with Amanda.’

I don’t actually know who Amanda is, but I was fully expecting a different answer. ‘Not Nice Paul?’

‘Nooooo.’ She shakes her head. ‘Why would I go home with Nice Paul? He’s just a mate.’

‘You looked as if you were getting quite cosy.’

‘Looks can be deceiving, my friend,’ she says. ‘Besides, you can’t kiss a bloke dressed as Boy George. That would be totes weird. He was wearing more make-up than me.’

‘You did think about kissing him then?’

‘No. What is this, primary school?’

‘I like him.’

‘You go out with him then. Stop playing with fire with Shagger Soames.’

‘I think you’ve got him all wrong.’

‘Don’t think so, love. What did he have to say for himself that gave you that impression?’

‘Not a lot. I just get on OK with him. That’s all.’ I busy myself reorganising gravel with my toe. I don’t mention Paris. Charlie would do her pieces. He was probably just joking, anyway. As if I’d really go to Paris with him. Ha! Then the phone rings and I rush to answer it, glad of the distraction.

We’re run off our feet. Sometimes, I have no idea where all these people come from. I go out to dinner once every blue moon, but there are couples who eat in here practically every night of the week.

When Mason turns up – and, shame on me, I hoped he would – I’m busy on the phone. Every time I hang up, it rings again. We’ve got another steak night special that’s proving ridiculously popular as it’s half our usual price.

He gives me a slow, sexy wink as he crosses the restaurant and disappears into the bar. I hope no one else saw it. When I finally get off the phone, he comes over to me. My heart starts to patter, ridiculously – particularly for a woman of my age. It’s a long time since I was a teenager and I must keep reminding myself as I thought I’d left this kind of stuff behind when I was a hormonally charged fifteen-year-old.

‘Busy, Brown? That’s what I like to see.’ He leans on my desk.

‘Steak special. It’s gone mad,’ I tell him. ‘Clearly a lot of carnivores around here.’

‘I enjoyed the other night, Brown.’ He grins at me as he openly eyes me up and down. ‘Preferred that outfit too.’

‘Stop that right now.’ I wag my finger at him. ‘You should treat your employees with respect.’