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‘So shouldn’t we be cutting down the width of it now?’
His fingers interlaced with hers and turned the onion around, before lifting the knife and cutting through the vegetable, sending little squares tumbling. Tumbling like her willpower. All she had to do was turn around, one hundred and eighty small, tight degrees, and she would be face to face, body to body, heart to heart, with a man she was damn sure could make her forget about her earlier phone call, about what was to come.
She let out a shaky breath.
‘Are you okay down there?’ Tony’s words were smooth, gentle. They mirrored the way she’d spoken to him earlier, when she’d had to bring him down from whatever fears he faced.
‘Fine. I just…’ She trailed off, unsure whether she could trust Tony, whether he would understand how one person could turn your world upside down, could shake things up, could leave you scrambling to put together the pieces for years after. Perhaps even a lifetime.
The slam of The Bullion’s heavy, oak front door hitting the wall followed by the dull rumble of feet on threadbare carpet snapped Mel out of her reverie. ‘Oh my God, it sounds like a whole rugby team just barged in…’
‘Oh, shit. Bollocks.’ Tony pushed her arm, still wrapped round him, away and crossed the kitchen to the bar in two long strides. ‘It’s not the sound of rugby players. It’s actual rugby players.’
Mel moved to where he was standing and watched as a wave of short, tall, slightly overweight middle-aged men rushed to the bar. ‘What kind of rugby team are they?’
‘The kind that come every second year for the annual grudge match. It’s this weekend. The Randy Rabbits vs The Bad Boys of Babbler. And the opposition are meant to be staying at The Bullion.’
‘And you forgot this?’ Mel looked up at Tony and registered the shock on his face, emphasised by the slight shade of green his skin was giving off.
‘How the hell did I forget? I can’t send them away, I need their cash,’ Tony said to no one in particular. ‘The beds aren’t made. I didn’t order extra food. I don’t even have anyone who can help me out at the bar. Jody’s busy with the boys…’
Tony glanced down at Mel. ‘But you. You’re here. You could help me. You’re my fiancée, after all.’
Mel shook her head and backed away from the madman in front of her. ‘That’s not part of the deal. That’s not what I signed up for. And besides, I have to be in bed soon. I’ve got a business to run, too, remember? And I have to be up early to bake.’
‘You promised, Mel. You promised you’d help me save The Bullion. And look, there’s a whole team of hungry men out there. And we’re making a lasagne. We’ve got the ingredients. You just have to do that… and then maybe sort out the bedrooms for me. Come on, Mel. You’re my fiancée. You have to.’ Tony reached for her hands and held them in his to his heart, which she could feel thumping through his navy jumper. ‘Don’t make me beg. It’s just… there’s no one else.’
There’s no one else.
Damn it. Couldn’t he have chosen another line? Mel knew all too well what it was like to have to fend for yourself. There was no way she could turn him down.
‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘But you’re still cooking the lasagne. I’ll finish off the onions while you get that lot out there sorted for drinks, all right?’
She waved him off and went back to prepping dinner, the chopping and dicing soothing her jangled nerves. Between her new and unexpected attraction to Tony and her mother’s impending arrival she was out of sorts. Gone was her perfectly ordered life of waking up, baking, serving customers, then reading or watching a show and going to bed. Instead, here she was, teaching a man to cook a lasagne, offering to make beds, and trying her best to help out the one person who’d threatened her security in the first place.
But it was all for the greater good. It had to be.
She scraped together the onions and waited for Tony to come back in to finish off his first cooking lesson. And waited. Then waited some more. Impatient to get going, she poked her head through the door to see him pulling pint after pint. His usually artfully mussed hair was standing out at odd angles, and a sheen of perspiration covered his forehead.
Tony glanced over and caught her eye. ‘I’ll be through in a minute.’
‘You don’t look like you’ll get away at the rate they’re drinking.’
‘Can you finish it off?’
‘No. That’s not the deal. You cook. I’ll pour the drinks.’
‘But I’m a barman. You’re a cook.’
‘And you’re meant to be learning to cook. I’ve got the recipe written down. You just need to follow it. I’ll be here if you need me.’
Tony’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you even know how to pull a beer?’
‘I’ve been dragged to enough pubs that I’m pretty sure I can copy what I’ve seen.’ Mel picked up a glass and poured the perfect beer with just the right amount of head to prove her point.
‘Fine. But soon as I’m done you’re making the beds and I’m back on the bar.’
‘Fine.’ Mel waved him back to the kitchen, and tried to ignore the tingle of pleasure that bloomed and spread through her when he smiled his thanks.
***
Two hours later the last sheet was tucked in, the last comforter brushed smooth, the last pillow plumped, the last decent fingernail she had on her hands was well and truly ripped to shreds, and each and every last muscle in her body ached.
Mel stretched, hearing cricks and creaks throughout her shoulders and neck. That was a mission, and now she needed a drink. Luckily she was in a pub. And from the rousing chorus of the National Anthem going on downstairs, things were still in full flight.
She plodded down the stairs and pushed through the staff door to see Tony hunched over the bar, his head in his hands, half or even mostly asleep.
‘Any chance of an Irish crème and milk?’ she whispered softly in his ear, not wanting to startle him.
‘Any chance of you sorting yourself out?’ he mumbled into his hands.
She thought to remind him that she’d been up since the early hours, that she’d poured loads of beer and then served up the lasagne he’d cooked to a whole rugby team, and then made up twenty beds, but thought better of it. This wasn’t the Tony the ladies of the village liked to gossip about over their lattes. That Tony had an easy smile, a carefree attitude and, once in the sack, had all the energy of a spring bunny. This Tony? He looked shattered. Beaten. More in need of a good sleep than a roll in the hay.
Mel glanced over at the gleaming monstrosity. Although now that he’d promised not to step on her turf, the coffee machine didn’t seem quite so evil. And right now it could come in handy. She walked down to the end of the bar, ignoring the catcalls as some of the team realised there was a woman in their midst. She stood in front of it and ran her hand along the cool, gleaming steel. Switch on, pour milk in jug, and steam. The ritual was as soothing as ever. She frothed the milk so it was just warm, not hot. Then, pouring it into a mug, she took it down to Tony.
‘Here.’ She pressed the cup against the back of his hand.
He jolted in fright.
‘You need this.’
‘Does it have caffeine in it?’ He turned his head and gave her a sleepy half-smile. ‘Because I really need caffeine. A truckload of it.’
‘If you’re going to be dealing with this rabble…’ She nodded towards the players who, for some unknown reason, had decided to build a human pyramid. ‘You’re going to need a good sleep. Take it. It’s just warm milk.’
‘You’re too good to me.’ He took the mug in one hand and cupped her cheek with the other.
‘Well. If that’s not love’s dream right there, I don’t know what is!’
Mel froze. She knew that voice. Brash. Loud. Demanding. That voice wasn’t meant to be here until tomorrow. She jerked her head away from Tony’s hand, mortified to be caught in such a tender, intimate moment …
‘Are you just going to stand there looking like a gormless wonder, or are you going to get your behind over here and give your mother a hug?’
Hurricane Val had hit.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4317094f-f074-5afb-af25-29bd403f5a4e)
‘Mum, I didn’t expect you so soon. What a surprise.’
Mel didn’t look surprised; she looked shell-shocked, maybe even a little sick. Strange, you’d have thought she’d have been happy to see her mother.
Although to be fair, outside of their friendly chats over the bar and in passing on the street, Tony didn’t know much about Mel. In fact he could tick off what he did know about her on one hand. She worked hard, kept to herself, and was pretty to look at. Pretty, and funny, and not afraid of getting stuck in and making things happen. He looked down at the warm milk she’d pressed into his hands. She was caring, too, but most definitely not his type. She was the settling type.
Or was she? A thought nagged at him… settling types liked their family, didn’t they? Wanted to have them around? Have a big one themselves? Breed like rabbits and enjoy big family dinners every night? Cheerful Christmases. Rowdy birthdays. So Mel’s mother turning up should’ve been a good thing. So why was Mel going so pale her black-and-pink hair was looking both darker and more vibrant than ever?
‘Mel, aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome friend? I’m sure I raised you better than that.’ Mel’s mother thrust her hand forward, palm down, in Tony’s direction.
She wanted him to kiss her hand? Not shake it? And had she just thrown him a flirtatious wink along with that girlish giggle?
‘The name’s Tony.’ He leant over and kissed her proffered hand, making Mel’s mum laugh in delight as she flipped her poker-straight, long blonde hair over her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mel shake her head and roll her eyes. So she wasn’t her mother’s number-one fan. Odd.
‘And I’m Valerie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘What made you come early, Mum? And why all the bags? I thought you were only planning to stay for a day or two.’
Tony followed Mel’s gaze to the bags stacked by the front door. There were so many, Mel’s mum could’ve started up her own luggage shop.
A knot began to form in his stomach.
‘Oh, Mel, let’s not talk about that right now. We can catch up properly tomorrow. What I need right now is my beauty sleep. Where’s the nearest bed?’
Did Mel’s mum just give him a meaningful glance? Oh, hell. There was no way he was sharing his bed with her. She’d eat him alive. Oh, and he was meant to be getting married to her daughter.
‘My apartment’s just down the road, Mum. You can sleep there.’
‘Your apartment?’ The flirty eyes hardened. ‘You’re engaged, aren’t you? Why would you need an apartment? Surely you and your fiancé are living together?’
‘We are.’ The words came out before he could think. The knot grew tighter. Damn. Not enough sleep had made him stupid, unable to think straight. But it was too late to back out now. ‘But sometimes this place gets rowdy late into the night and Mel has to be up early for the café, so that’s when she stays over there.’
‘Well, that’s a very modern arrangement you’ve got going. Not particularly cosy, though. I don’t know, Melanie… If I were getting married to this hunk right here I wouldn’t let him out of my sight. Especially with so many women no doubt just waiting to pounce.’
‘I trust Tony. He would never let me down. Unlike some people I know.’
Tony had spent enough hours watching people get tetchy with each other after a few drinks to know when he heard loaded words. Fighting words. Words to wind up the evening with before the two women got even more wound up and a full-on family spat erupted with a gleeful audience to egg them on. Tony ducked down and grabbed the megaphone he kept on hand for the rare occasion when the pub was busy and the patrons needed to be moved on. It was time for a bit, or a lot, of distraction.
‘Down those drinks, boys. It’s time to hit the sack!’
Tony ignored the groans and mutterings of ‘killjoy’ coming from the players.
Setting the megaphone down, he turned to Mel and Valerie. His booming announcement had stopped the sniping but Mel was still glaring at her mother, while her mother stared back at her daughter, an innocent expression on her face. He was mighty glad not to be sharing a room with either of them tonight. ‘That goes for you two as well. Get home and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘You’re shutting up shop? But I just got here.’ Valerie pouted and widened her eyes. ‘And you’re sending the men away? Oh, surely we can stay up for one little drink. They look like so much fun.’
‘What about your beauty sleep, Mum?’ Mel asked pointedly.
‘Oh, I’ll just get it at the other end of the day. A good sleep-in works wonders… and besides, those gentlemen don’t look ready for sleep either.’
‘You’d have thought you’d have had enough fun for a lifetime.’ Mel’s tone was as dark as the shadows under her eyes.
‘Sorry, Valerie. Once the megaphone has come out, it’s time for everyone to get out.’
‘Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.’ Valerie smiled prettily up at him. ‘Speaking of trying… Melanie, you really ought to do something with that hair of yours. Honestly. It’s hardly feminine.’
Tony watched Mel’s chest rise as she sucked in a breath, then slowly deflated. Counting to ten? Twenty? Her mother had been here only a few minutes and she’d already insulted Mel twice. No wonder they weren’t close.
‘My hair’s fine, Mother. Now let’s get going. I’ve got to be up early and you’re not the only one who needs beauty sleep.’
‘Oh, I can see that, dear. Don’t you worry.’ Valerie turned to Tony. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait for us to get further acquainted.’
Tony caught Mel rolling her eyes and winked at her as she gathered up as many bags as she could while her mother took one in each hand. As they tottered out the door Mel slung her mother a murderous look.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Right, so he had one night to figure out how to be a convincing fiancé for a few days. He remembered the towering suitcases. At least, he hoped it would only be for a few days…
***
‘This is a very homely apartment you’ve got here, Melanie.’
Homely? In her mother’s vernacular that meant ‘pokey’.
‘I like it.’ And she did. The apartment above the shop was small, but it was all she needed. Open-plan living with a small kitchenette, one bedroom, and a bathroom. The landlord had allowed her to splash a little paint on the walls. And although lemon yellow wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she liked it. It reminded her of the bedroom she’d spent so much time in at her grandma’s.
‘And there’s an awful lot of stuff here for a spot where you just need to sleep…’
God, the Spanish Inquisition would’ve been easier to deal with. Nothing got past Valerie. She had a knack of sizing someone up and seeing their weak spots, or the secrets they were hiding, in seconds. She wasn’t afraid to let them know about it either. Like Tony and the drunken women…
‘Well, Tony’s living area isn’t exactly large…’
‘But he has a huge building? Surely he could take over one of the pub’s bedrooms, maybe knock a wall out and create some room for you? I mean, you’ve been together how long now? At least a year?’
Mel groaned inwardly. Lying to her mother about her relationship status had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to stop the constant badgering about settling down with a man. She’d kind of hoped the vet was going to become the real-life embodiment of her fake boyfriend, but that hope left when he did. And the last thing she’d expected was her mother to visit. That wasn’t something they did… well, apart from the times when something had gone wrong in her mother’s life… which begged the question, why was she here? What had gone wrong?
‘Yeah… we’ve been going out just over a year now.’ Mel felt the walls starting to close in on her. Her previously cosy apartment now felt like it was about to choke her.
‘Well, he really needs to sort that situation out. I’ll talk to him. I can’t have my girl living out of a suitcase.’
Air. There was none. The world was starting to spin. Mel walked to the window, pushed it open and breathed in the brisk, wintry air. Although tinged with wood smoke it felt fresh, clearing, invigorating.
‘And don’t tell me you’re pregnant? Have you set a date for the wedding? We’ll move it up. I don’t want my only child to be an unwed mother, or worse, look like a marshmallow in a wedding dress.’
Mel spun to her mother, anger pulsing in her veins. What right did she have to come in here and tip her nice, secure, routined-up-the-yin-yang life upside down? Hadn’t she done that enough?
‘Mother. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired. I’ve been up since the wee hours. I’ve worked all day in the café. Then worked all night for Tony. And look, it’s the wee hours again. I need to get some sleep. And I don’t need to be harangued about every aspect of my life...’
Her mother’s soft-blue eyes welled up with tears. Of course, she was able to give it but not take it. Nothing had changed there. But despite everything, seeing her mother in pain tugged at her heart. Same way it always had.
‘After all, there’s plenty of time for you to do that.’ She lifted one eyebrow and gave her a small, teasing smile, glad to see the tears recede as fast as they’d built up.
‘Oh, Mel.’ Her mother swept over and pulled her into her lean embrace. ‘What a mean old cow you must think I am. I only want the best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
