This Could Change Everything(15)

‘Wow.’

‘Is that a yes?’

For a moment Essie couldn’t speak. She’d been doing her utmost to put on a brave face and come to terms with everything that had happened in the past week, but the last few days had been tough. Really tough. There’d been a lot to take in and not much time in which to assimilate it. Then yesterday she’d met Zillah Walsh, which had seemed like the most amazing and fortuitous stroke of luck.

And now this. Not just any job, but one she knew she’d love. Everyone here at the Red House had been so nice tonight, warm and welcoming. The atmosphere was convivial. Plus, it was so close to home. What could be better than that?

Talk about serendipity.

‘I’d love to.’ She nodded at Jude. ‘It’s a million times yes.’

Forty minutes later, possibly to pay her back for feeling so smug, the door to the Red House swung open and in walked the architect of all her recent misfortunes.

Essie, busy wiping down empty tables and piling glasses onto a tray, stared in disbelief as he made his way to the bar. It was him, no doubt about it. And wasn’t he looking just . . . fine.

Then again, why wouldn’t he be fine? There was no reason why he shouldn’t be cheerful and relaxed, was there? She was the one who’d borne the brunt of last week’s disastrous sequence of events, whilst he’d got away with it scot-free.

His name was Lucas, but that was as much as she’d learned about him because it was all her brother had known. Jay had met him at a party, drinks had been downed and they’d bonded in that particular way men had a habit of doing when alcohol was involved.

Which was how they’d ended up, at four in the morning, back at her place. Well, Paul’s place. Whereupon havoc had been caused, following which her own life had disastrously imploded.

And now here he was, which meant she had the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind, if she could just figure out how to do it in a way that wouldn’t mean losing her brand-new job.

By hiring a hit man, maybe.

A discreet one.

Needing time to gather herself, Essie concentrated on rearranging the collected glasses on her tray. His back was to her now, but she could remember exactly what he looked like. Dark hair and darker eyes that signalled amusement even when the situation was the polar opposite of funny. He was tall, olive-skinned and wearing a dark suit. He was also the kind of good-looking that went hand-in-hand with untrustworthiness. If it suited men like him to do something, they simply regarded it as their right to go ahead and do it. Other people, so far as they were concerned, only existed for their entertainment.

Now he’d walked into the Red House and their paths were about to cross for the second time. Which, in a relatively small city like Bath, wasn’t the most unlikely of situations.

But the sight of him still caused Essie’s skin to prickle with suppressed anger and her breathing to quicken.

Was he even aware that thanks to his actions she’d become a public laughing stock?

The next moment the door to the kitchen was pushed open and Jude emerged, her face lighting up when she saw the new arrival, who was currently busy messaging someone on his phone whilst he stood waiting at the bar.

‘Hello, you’re back! I didn’t think we were going to see you tonight.’

Which meant he was a regular here, the kind who spent every evening drinking and socialising. From a distance, Essie’s lip curled with disdain; because of course he did. Par for the course.

God, though, what a pain to see him here. She’d have her work cut out being polite to him. With a bit of luck, his conscience might kick in and send him off to haunt another bar.

If he even had a conscience.

Ugh, and now Jude was actually giving him a welcoming hug. But that was the thing about men who looked like he did: when you were that physically attractive, there’d always be women more than happy to overlook your faults.

The next moment, glancing over once more, Essie saw that Jude was now murmuring something in his ear, and it struck her that they could be a couple. Oh no, that would be too much to bear.

Then they moved apart and Jude went behind the bar to pour a measure of cognac from the optics. She handed it to Lucas and said something else to him, then turned and beckoned to Essie.

Possibly to chastise her for being the world’s slowest glass-collector.

Essie picked up the loaded tray and made her way over, the little hairs on her arms lifting like iron filings on a magnet.

‘By the way,’ Jude was telling him, ‘Hopeless Henry let us down for the last time, so I gave him the push earlier. But we’ve got a replacement and she’s going to be brilliant, I promise.’

One of the glasses on the tray contained an abandoned half-pint of lager. If Lucas recognised her and started laughing, Essie knew she’d be compelled to throw the contents straight in his face.

Even a smirk would be enough.

But when he turned to look at her, she saw only genuine shock in his eyes, swiftly followed by growing suspicion. He inclined his head and said evenly, ‘Hi.’

Jude was beaming. ‘Lucas, this is Essie. Essie, this is your new boss!’

Essie stared at him. Oh for crying out loud.

Not that.

Anything but that.

Somehow she managed to say, ‘Hello.’

‘And if you’re wondering why she looks familiar,’ Jude rattled on, ‘it’s because her photo was in the papers last week . . . Essie’s the one who got caught out by that embarrassing round robin about her boyfriend’s mother!’