The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection

Mr Right Across the Street

Kathryn Freeman

One More Chapter

a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2021

Copyright © Kathryn Freeman 2021

Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2021

Cover images © Shutterstock.com

Kathryn Freeman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008462260

Ebook Edition © January 2021 ISBN: 9780008462253

Version: 2021-03-03

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

Thank you for reading…

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About the Author

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One More Chapter...

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Mia pressed the phone to her ear and tried to focus on what her mum was saying, but it was hard to when her eyes kept sliding to the flat directly opposite hers. Not the one just to the left, oh no. That was heart-sink territory. The sure way to make her feel like a total failure as a human being. Who on earth looks that put-together at nine o’clock in the morning? Earlier, even, though Mia couldn’t say for certain how early because Immaculate Woman was always there, at her desk, by the time Mia staggered out of bed. Didn’t the woman know that tracksuit bottoms, baggy jumpers and dressing gowns were all perfectly acceptable dress codes in your own damn home?

‘Are you sure you’re okay, pet? Your dad and me, we worry. One minute you’re living round the corner. Next you’ve upped sticks all the way to flipping Manchester where you’re living all by yourself, away from your friends and family. It’s not right.’

Mia sighed. Here we go again. ‘I’m thirty, not thirteen, Mum. And it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been away from you guys. I managed to survive three years at uni.’ In truth, Bath hadn’t been that far away, and though ‘survived’ was accurate, boy had she missed her family. Oh and when she’d got her degree and a job, she’d moved to a house in the next street along from her parents.

‘I know you can survive,’ her mum countered. ‘But I want my little gumdrop to be happy.’

Mia groaned. Seriously, how many thirty-year-olds get called a little gumdrop? And yet … her eyes begin to prick. She’d always been her mum and dad’s gumdrop, just as Elle, her elder sister, had always been their little peanut. Because that’s what they’d been nicknamed in the womb. God, she missed her family.

‘Mia?’

Mia drew in a shaky breath. Nope, now wasn’t the time to show weakness. At the first hint of it, her parents would jump into their car and bomb up the ruddy motorway. ‘I am happy, Mum.’ Or at least she would be, once she’d made a few friends up here. So far the only person she’d spoken to was Stan, her neighbour. Sixty-seven, divorced, overweight and lonely, he wasn’t exactly who she imagined hitting the nightlife with.

‘Have you met anyone else yet, aside from your neighbour?’

As Mia debated how to reply, she glanced at the time on her computer and saw it was ten o’clock. Immediately her eyes skimmed over to the flat opposite. Bingo.

The highlight of her day.

‘Are you still there?’

Guiltily Mia tried to recall her mum’s question. ‘Of course I’ve met people.’ Did it count if you hadn’t actually spoken to them? All you’d done was ogle them from across the courtyard while they’d lifted weights? Or, in the case of Immaculate Woman, glowered at them every morning. ‘But I’ve only been here two weeks and friendships take time, so please quit worrying. I’m perfectly content. I’ve got plenty of work to do and my new place is great.’ With a dynamite view between ten and eleven in the morning.

Dear God, Hot Guy Opposite, as she’d nicknamed him, had started his routine with bicep curls. Even from across the courtyard, she could see the pump of his arms. The hard muscles of his naked chest…

‘That’s something, I suppose.’ Her mum’s voice jolted Mia out of her lusty thoughts. And the way she paused to clear her throat, sent alarm bells ringing. ‘I saw Debbie yesterday, who’d spoken to Anne.’ In other words, the gossip grapevine. ‘Pete’s been asking around for your new mobile number.’

Mia froze at the mention of the reason she’d had to leave the comfort of life in Somerset. Maybe it had been too comfortable, maybe moving to Manchester would turn out to be an inspired idea, but fact was, she’d not been drawn here by the idea of a better life in singleton city (apparently it had the highest concentration of single people in the UK, so at least she wouldn’t feel too out of place). She’d come here to escape Pete. The boyfriend who’d seemed so nice. Until he’d proven he wasn’t. ‘It’s okay, Mum, he won’t get my number. The only people who have it are family and my best buddies, Heather and Gill.’

‘Good. Because if I find that despicable man sending my gumdrop any more nasty messages, I’ll hunt him down and … and…’ Mia’s lips began to twitch as she waited with interest. ‘I’ll knock his block off.’

Mia burst out laughing. ‘Way to go, Mum. With you in my corner, I have nothing to fear.’ And really she wasn’t afraid of Pete; he hadn’t hurt her physically. But in the year she’d dated him, his messages had gone from sweet, to possessive, to downright mean when she’d told him she no longer wanted to see him. Yet another boyfriend who’d turned out to be vastly different from advertised. Clearly, her judgement when it came to men totally sucked. Either that, or there were only two decent men left in this world; her dad, and Dave, her brother-in-law.

God, what a depressing thought.

The guy in the flat across from her, the one flashing his muscles, caught her attention again. If her theory was right, he was probably an axe murderer, and all this weight training was to help him wield the deadly weapon with greater precision.

‘Mia, are you still there?’

Shit. ‘Sorry, yes I’m here.’ Just a tiny bit distracted.

‘Well whatever it is you’re looking at, you need to stop and listen to your mum. I know friendships take time, but I don’t want to think of you up there with only your pensioner neighbour to talk to. It would be okay if you worked in an office, but all you do all day is sit in front of a computer.’

‘I don’t only sit here. Sometimes I work.’

‘Very funny. Now promise me and your dad that you’ll drag yourself away from that screen and go … wherever you youngsters go these days to meet people. A café, bar, gym.’

‘Gym? Do you not know your daughter at all?’ Mia had never fancied the idea of sweating next to gym bunnies in tight lycra. She preferred exercise with a purpose. As a kid she’d tried out loads of sports before finally finding one where her individuality – or as her school mates had called it, her weirdness – was respected, not mocked. ‘I’ve found a local judo class, Mum.’ She omitted the part about it not starting up again until September. ‘As for meeting people, we youngsters do everything online now. No need to brave the outside. I can view prospective dates from the luxury of my own four walls.’

‘Not that Grinding app I hope. Debbie said she overheard her niece talking about it and it was like dial-for-sex, no, wait, swipe-for-sex.’

Mia burst out laughing. ‘God, Mum, have you any idea what you’re talking about? But okay, message received,’ she added quickly before her mum could take the conversation down any further dodgy alleys. ‘Now I need to get on and do some sitting at my computer. Love to Dad and I’ll phone next week.’

As she ended the call, Mia gave the view opposite a final ogle before dragging her eyes back to her computer screen.

Luke rattled the bar back onto the rack and heaved a sigh of relief. Shit, this was getting harder, not easier. Was it possible that at thirty-four, he was getting old? A shudder ran through him. No way. He was just having an off day. Probably his body was exhausted following the workout it had been given last night by Tanya; long legs, flaming red hair and apparently boundless energy.

After giving Pickles a pat on the head and her daily carrot – the name wasn’t his idea, nor was the rabbit, but he was stuck with both – he dived into the shower. At exactly 11.29 a.m. – Fridays were one of the days they opened for lunch – he slammed his front door behind him and bounded down the stairs.

‘Morning boss.’ Sandy, waiting outside the bar for him to open up, glanced at her watch. ‘A whole three seconds early today. Wow, you spoil me.’

‘I cut out the shave.’ He waggled his eyebrows. ‘Tanya reckons the rugged look suits me.’

‘Tanya?’ Sandy raised her right brow. ‘What happened to Sophie?’

Luke flipped on the lights and started lifting the chairs off the tables and onto the floor. ‘Nothing happened to Sophie. We saw each other for a bit, now we’re not.’

As Sandy mumbled something along the lines of not being able to keep up, Luke took a moment to survey his domain. Ten years since he’d moved into his flat and started work at the bar beneath it – and yes, the one-minute commute to work had been part of the appeal, though the decision on where to live hadn’t solely been his to make. Those first few years had been tough, money had been tighter than a duck’s arse, and he’d lived on tips, his wages gobbled up by a mortgage and … other expenses. But he’d worked his butt off, learnt the trade thanks to Bill, and over the years, actually begun to enjoy working there. Then Bill had decided to sell up – said he was looking to reduce his hours and stress – and Luke figured the opportunity was too good to miss. As of a month ago, the place – cleverly or lazily named The Bar Beneath, depending on your point of view – was his. No longer the employee, but the employer.

Who the chuffing heck would have thought it?

Had he always wanted his own bar? No bloody way.

Could he imagine himself doing something else now? His eyes skimmed across the dark wood furniture, the black and white tiled floor, the polished mahogany bar with the lines of optics behind it, back lit in green, put in last week as a homage to his part-Irish ancestry. It was home to him now, just as much as his flat. And for a guy who liked people, liked shooting the breeze, it wasn’t a bad career to stumble into.

‘Hey Mateo, you’re looking hot. Great haircut.’

Luke glanced round as Sandy greeted the youngest member of their staff. Mateo was twenty-five, and though he had the swarthy looks of a Spanish matador, he had the accent of a Mancunian. A combination that was proving to be a hit with the female punters.

Mateo flashed her his grin. ‘Thanks, babe.’

Luke stared at Sandy and cleared his throat. ‘I assume I wasn’t told I was looking hot because you didn’t want to be accused of sucking up to the boss.’

Sandy threw back her head and laughed. ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night.’

It was banter, and as Sandy had been a friend a lot longer than an employee – all the way back to school days, in fact, when she’d started dating his mate Jim – he was well used to it. Still, together with the more-arduous-than-usual weight session this morning, it added up to him feeling old again.

Not that long ago he’d been the sexy young bartender the girls had come to flirt with.

Now he was the bar owner, with a responsibility towards the people he employed. Hell, he was finally growing up, as his brother liked to mock. His phone buzzed with a text and when he glanced down at it, he grinned.

Hey hot stuff. Had a great time last night. Let me know when you’re up for a repeat. Tanya xx

Fine, he was growing up. But he still had some appeal with the ladies.

‘Are you going to help us, or are you going to leer at your phone all day, as usual?’ Sandy stared at him, hand on her hip.

Guiltily he stuffed his mobile back in his pocket. Old habits were hard to break but Sandy was right, he was the boss now, he had to set an example. ‘I take exception to all day, as usual and the word leer,’ he replied mildly, pulling down the rest of the chairs. ‘Especially leer. I mean, that’s what dirty old men do. I was smiling. Aside from that, you have a point and I apologise.’

‘That wasn’t a smile. It was an I’ve-just-had-an-invite-for-sex smirk.’

Luke stared back at Sandy. ‘You could tell that, just from my expression?’

‘Duh, you’re acting like I haven’t known you for twenty years. When you look at your phone, which you do far more than anyone else I know, by the way, you leer when you get a booty call, and give out a pained sigh when the booty call gets too keen.’

Her observations were a bit too close to home to be comfortable. What did it say about how many times Sandy had seen him pull those faces that she’d learnt to recognise them? ‘Haven’t you got lunch menus to be putting out?’ he muttered, not liking the way he felt right now.

Sandy must have seen something in his expression – clearly she really could read what he was thinking – because her face softened. ‘I wasn’t having a go, you know. It’s up to you how you live your life.’ She paused, wrapping the end of her ponytail round her fingers in a gesture he knew of old. It meant she was gearing up to saying something she knew he wouldn’t like.

‘Come on, spit it out.’ He gave her a half smile. ‘You once told me I was an irresponsible prick. It’s not worse than that, is it?’

‘No.’ She caught his eye and he didn’t miss the fondness in her expression. Or the edge of sympathy. ‘I just … I can’t help hoping one day you’ll find what Jim and I have.’

Luke tensed. There had been a time when he’d believed he had had that. God, he’d been dumb. ‘You mean a life where the highlight of your week is eating take-out curry in front of Britain’s Got Talent?’

Sandy narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Yes, okay, I can go with that. It is a highlight, because the person you’re sitting on the sofa with is the same person you woke with your arms around that morning. The person who kissed you goodbye until your knees went weak, then sent you a silly text in the afternoon to make you laugh. That evening they listened to your gripes about work, hugged you when you felt low. Then made love to you to remind you what was really important in life.’

Because he didn’t want to hear what she was saying – it wasn’t the first time he’d had the lecture – Luke silenced her by placing his hand over her mouth. ‘Quit rabbiting. No amount of fluff can hide the fact that in your scenario, Britain’s Got Talent is on the television, so no thanks. Now get your arse into gear. I’ve got a business to run here.’

She huffed and walked towards the cabinet where they kept the menus. ‘What if I’d said Match of the Day was on?’

‘Same answer.’ Fact was, the picture of domestic bliss she’d painted suited her, suited his brother and yeah, suited a lot of people. Didn’t mean it suited him.

Chapter Two

Mia glanced again at the clock on her computer. How sad did it make her that she was still sat in front of her computer at nine o’clock on a Saturday night?

Her mum would go ballistic.

Stuff it though, it wasn’t like she was working. Monday to Friday she designed websites, but at the weekend, she created. Well, she had been, up until the last half an hour, when the words to the rom com she was trying to write – maybe she should add a still in there, because a year on and she was only a third of the way through – anyway, the words had dried up and the time spent gazing out of the window had increased exponentially. There wasn’t even anything to look at. Immaculate Woman wasn’t at her desk. Hot Guy Opposite was probably out somewhere showing his diligently acquired muscles to some lucky woman. Or man.

With a resigned sigh, Mia rose to her feet. Her mum was right, not that she’d ever tell her. Sitting here all day, and all night, would lead to a pretty lonely existence. Sure, she didn’t lack friends, she’d talked to both Heather and Gill only a few hours ago, but it was all on the phone. When was the last time she’d spoken to someone face-to-face, other than Stan? Even that conversation had been three days ago, and had revolved around the best local supermarket. According to Stan, the Co-op was the closest, but it was more expensive than Lidl, though neither were as well stocked as Sainsbury’s when it came to ready meals for one.

Yep, she’d officially reached rock bottom.

Walking to the bathroom, she gave her face a cursory glance in the mirror, mainly to check there was no evidence of the tomato sauce she’d shoved all over her sausage and mash dinner. Don’t mock. At least she’d cooked it herself. Satisfied she was clean, if not looking her best – the green dye she’d streaked her hair with had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now looked like someone had emptied grass cuttings over her – she grabbed her trusty black handbag and walked out of the flat.

A few minutes later, she stood, staring, at the bar beneath the flats. It was early June and many people sat outside. The area had a continental feel, with strings of lights wrapped around pots of bay trees and flickering tea lights on tables. A brightly lit sign depicting the name, The Bar Beneath, cast a green light across the space.

Inside was similar; green plants, tea lights, dark wood furniture.

It looked warm, inviting. Yet the laughter, the constant buzz of chatter, the sheer numbers of people … it was intimidating as hell to walk into alone.

The alternative was crappy TV or another chat with Stan. Maybe this time about the residents’ association.

Suck it up.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked up to the bar, slipping onto the only free stool. When she looked up to catch the bartender’s eye, she nearly fell off the ruddy thing.

It was Hot Guy Opposite, far taller than she’d thought, muscles threatening to burst out of his black fitted shirt. Chestnut brown hair, sparkling green eyes.

‘Hey there, welcome to The Bar Beneath.’ Her stomach cartwheeled as he flashed her a smile. White even teeth and dimples. Honest to God, dimples. That wasn’t a smile, it was an invitation to have sex. ‘Luke Doyle at your service. What can I get you?’

Mia swallowed to get the saliva working in her mouth. ‘A bottle of whatever beer you recommend.’

‘Beer?’ For a split second, his smile faltered, before returning in full force. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you into a cocktail?’ Reaching behind him, he grabbed a cocktail shaker and flipped it up in the air, catching it neatly. ‘An Alabama slammer? Black velvet? Campari and soda?’ Another grin. ‘I can go through the whole alphabet.’

There was something about the high-watt smile, the easy bartender chat, that helped Mia relax. Hot Guy Opposite was a fantasy she’d created and yes, Luke looked like the man she’d been ogling across the courtyard, but he was just a guy. And she’d been handling them, one way or another, all her life. ‘Thanks, but I’ll stick with the beer.’

‘Your loss.’ He bent to slide a bottle from the chill cabinet, unscrewed the cap and placed it in front of her. ‘Slice of lemon? Snappy little green umbrella?’ He picked up one and whirled it round with his fingers.

‘Thanks, but no.’ She cocked her head at him. ‘Out of interest, if I’d wanted a cocktail beginning with z?’

‘I’d have mixed you a Zombie. Light rum, dark rum, grenadine, a mix of different juices.’ He winked. ‘Honestly, it’s a right pain to make so I’d probably have told you to pick something else.’

‘What about beginning with x?’

He laughed. ‘Then you’d have had our Xellent martini.’

‘Okay, I’ll take the bait. What’s so excellent about it?’

Another wink. ‘The name.’

She rolled her eyes, and he disappeared off to serve someone else. Mia tried not to feel too self-conscious, but it was hard when she knew people were giving her sideways glances. The girl sitting by herself with odd green streaks in her hair. Belatedly she glanced down at what she was wearing. Crap. She’d not even changed out of her slobbing-at-home outfit; leggings and an oversize shirt.

‘Regretting the beer yet?’ Luke was back, giving her another of those big, Tom Cruise-like smiles.

‘Nope.’ He gave the cocktail shaker he was holding a final shake, and poured a vivid green mixture into a cocktail glass. ‘And now I’ve seen that, definitely no. Is it radioactive?’

He laughed. ‘Well it can scramble your brain, but only if you have too many of them.’ He leant across the bar. ‘Between you and me, it’s a screwdriver, with a dash of blue curacao.’

‘What is it to the customer you’re serving it to?’

‘It’s the house special.’ He nodded towards the brightly lit green sign on the wall behind the bar, and then to the one in the window. ‘Green is our colour, but then you knew that.’

‘I did?’

His eyes skimmed over her. ‘Your highlights were for our benefit, yes?’

His attention was caught by someone at the end of the bar and he murmured an ‘excuse me’ before heading off. And yes, her eyes did stray to his bum. It was … damn, it was perfect. No wonder the clientele were mainly female. The sexy, flirty bartender was a total cliché, but it also worked. Even if she didn’t talk to anyone else all evening, already this was better than sitting on her own in her flat.