The One You Really Want (53 page)

‘Really, you don't have to bother.' Smiling to herself, Nancy began hunting in the utility room for vases. ‘I'm not going to change my mind, Jonathan. So I promise you, there's no point.'

Mia had never been in love. Without worrying about it in the slightest, she had always vaguely assumed that there must be something a bit wrong with her, that maybe she was missing some vital gene in that department. She was almost seventeen, after all. The other girls at school had spent all their time mooning over boys, flirting and giggling at every opportunity, endlessly discussing with their friends what clothes and shoes to wear on their dates then sobbing helplessly in the toilets when their relationships broke up.

It had all seemed such a criminal waste of time as far as Mia was concerned, when there were so many more interesting things these girls could have been doing with their time. The allure of boys was a mystery and no mistake; it seemed such an endless cycle with no point to it at all. Mia was actually glad she was immune.

Until, arriving back from Ireland on Friday morning, she pushed through the smoked glass doors of the Lazy B and clapped eyes on, well, a
vision
.

No, really. That was how it felt. And there were butterflies swooping around in her chest who clearly thought so too.

Unversed in the way these scenarios were usually played out, it didn't occur to Mia to pause in the doorway, catch her breath and surreptitiously survey this vision from a safe distance. Instead she strode up to the reception desk -
her
desk - and said eagerly, ‘Hi there.'

The vision grinned at her. He had dark curly hair cut close to his head, sparkling denim-blue eyes and endearingly crooked white teeth. There was a pale scar bisecting his left eyebrow, he was tanned and fit-looking and his fingernails were short and clean. All of a sudden Mia realised that these were the very attributes she'd been subconsciously searching for in a man her whole life.

‘Hi. How can I help you?'

‘Well, you can tell me your name for a start.' He wasn't too tall either, five foot ten or so, just the right height.

‘Sorry. It's Gerry.' Reaching across the desk, Gerry took her hand and solemnly shook it. ‘I should have a name badge, but I only started here yesterday,'

You could tell a lot by a handshake and his was perfect.

‘I'm Mia.' Mia realised that she was still clutching his hand, even though the shaking part was over. Reluctantly she let go before she kissed it.

‘Mia. Hey, you're the receptionist.' Gerry nodded in recognition, his eyes lighting up. ‘Great to meet you. I thought you weren't due back until Monday.'

Five days in Ireland had been more than enough for Mia. ‘I wasn't, but my mother was doing my head in, so I caught an earlier flight. And I knew there wouldn't be anyone at home so I came straight here. Is my dad around?'

‘Gone out to a meeting. He should be back by three. It really is great to meet you.' Gerry surveyed her with undisguised pleasure.

‘I know, I'm fantastic, aren't I?' Sliding her heavy rucksack off her shoulders and thudding it down onto the counter, Mia said, ‘So is this Dad's way of letting me know I've been sacked?'

‘Don't worry.' Gerry's smile broadened, revealing even more teeth. ‘I'm really a lifeguard, but there was no one free to cover reception today so I'm helping out.'

Lifeguard, eh? Better and better. Lovely broad shoulders and lots of experience in mouth-to-mouth techniques.

‘In that case I'll just sit here and watch.' Happily the reception area was quiet. Darting round to his side of the desk, Mia grabbed a high stool and began unzipping her rucksack. ‘How old are you, by the way?'

‘Fifty-three.'

‘Excellent. D'you dye your hair then? Or is that a toupée?'

‘I'm seventeen.' Gerry grinned.

‘Girlfriend?'

‘No. Do you always ask so many personal questions?'

‘Only when I want to know the answers. And in case you're wondering, I don't have a boyfriend,' Mia went on happily. ‘So that's great news, isn't it? How come you're so brown anyway, d'you use a sunbed?' As she said it she felt the butterflies in her stomach pause for a moment, awaiting Gerry's reply. Could she really bring herself to adore a boy who used a sunbed?

‘My parents run a bar in Tenerife. I've been working out there all winter. Only came back to England three days ago. I'm staying with my sister. What's
that
?' Gerry picked up the muslin-wrapped parcel she'd just pulled from her rucksack.

‘Soda bread.' He didn't use a sunbed. Yay, he was still perfect. Untying the ends of the muslin cloth and tearing off a chunk of the bread, Mia said, ‘Try it. Homemade. I've some cheese in here too - Cashel Blue, lovely stuff. And a gorgeous piece of Cahil Porter.' Triumphantly she produced two smaller packages and began unwrapping them. ‘Cahil Porter's made with Guinness, you know. It's completely out of this world.'

‘Should we be doing this?' Gerry looked concerned. ‘I mean, all this food out here on the desk?'

‘Ah, don't worry, there's plenty for everyone.' Breaking off a piece of the marbled Cahil Porter, Mia reached over and popped it into his mouth. ‘There now, are you in heaven?'

‘I'm in heaven.' Gerry nodded in agreement. Having swallowed the cheese, he looked at her. ‘I've never met anyone like you before.'

The butterflies in Mia's stomach got busier, their wings whirring like helicopter blades. Oh God, was she doing it all wrong?

‘Is that a good or a bad thing?'

He grinned. ‘I'd call it a brilliant thing.'

Phew. Reassured that she wasn't making a complete hash of this flirting malarkey, Mia rummaged once more in her rucksack and brought out a bundle of lumpy socks. Emptying the eggs out of the socks, she said eagerly, ‘Do you like duck eggs?'

‘Love them.'

‘Hot chilli sauce? The hottest chilli sauce ever?'

‘Scotch Bonnet? My favourite.'

Mia almost toppled off her stool with excitement. ‘Dolly Parton?'

‘Who?' Gerry's face fell. ‘You mean do I like her music? No, I don't. I can't stand all that waily, twangy stuff.'

They gazed at each other in dismay. Mia's heart sank; this was terrible news.

Leaning towards her, Gerry clutched her hand. ‘But if it means that much to you, I could give it another try.'

‘Oh yes, of course you can!' Brightening, Mia exclaimed, ‘I'll lend you all my CDs!' Overcome with excitement she threw her arms round Gerry's neck and kissed him -
mwah!
- full on the mouth. ‘We'll keep playing them over and over again until you change your—'

‘
Aaarrgh,
I don't
believe
this!' bellowed a furious voice above them. ‘I just do not bloody believe it!'

Tearing her gaze away from Gerry, Mia saw Sadie Sylvester with a face like thunder. As Sadie began stomping down the steel spiral staircase, Gerry muttered worriedly, ‘Oh shit.'

He was new, this was only his second day here. Refusing to let him back away, Mia said reassuringly, ‘Hey, don't let Cyanide Sadie worry you, nobody takes any notice of that old witch.'

‘
You
, let go of him,' Sadie barked at Mia, her magenta ringlets quivering with disdain. Turning her attention to Gerry she said icily, ‘And you, are you completely out of your mind? I
told
you not to have anything to do with this girl.'

‘Excuse me?' Outraged, Mia shot back, ‘How dare you tell him that! You don't own this club! My God, you have a nerve—'

‘Sshh, save your breath,' said Gerry. ‘She never listens to other people anyway.'

Oh hell. Gazing from Gerry to Sadie and back again, Mia cottoned on at last. ‘She's your sister.'

‘Cyanide Sadie.' Gerry's mouth began to twitch. ‘You didn't tell me they called you that.'

‘They don't.' Pointing a scarlet fingernail at Mia, Sadie spat, ‘
She
does. And if anyone's poisonous around here, let me tell you, it's
her
.'

‘It's midday.' Having checked her watch and the timetable on the desk, Mia said coolly, ‘Don't you have a class you should be taking?'

Without another word, Sadie turned and stomped back up the staircase.

‘Well.' Mia collapsed onto her stool. ‘I can't believe you're Sadie's brother. This is terrible news.'

‘Why is it terrible?' Looking alarmed, Gerry said, ‘Has it put you off me?'

‘Not a bit. But hasn't it put you off me?'

‘Hey. Annoying my sister has always been my favourite hobby. She doesn't scare me.' His denim-blue eyes alight with mischief, he reached out and touched Mia's face. ‘How about you?'

How about her? She thought they were a match made in heaven!

‘Ah well, I've always enjoyed a good fight.' Tearing a chunk of crusty, hand-baked soda bread from the loaf and drizzling it with hotter-than-fire chilli sauce, Mia lovingly offered it to her own real-life vision. ‘The more we annoy Sadie, the happier I'll be.'

The time had come, as it invariably did, to call a halt on a relationship that wasn't going anywhere. Connor sighed as he made his way across town to Tabitha's flat. He hated this bit, the telling-them-it-was-all-over bit, but he could no longer put it off. The other day Tabitha had rung to invite him to meet her parents this coming weekend. They were lovely people, she'd eagerly assured him, it wouldn't be a chore and they were
so
looking forward to meeting him.

Connor was sure he would have liked Tabitha's parents, but what would be the point of meeting them? They would be mentally sizing him up as a potential son-in-law and that wasn't fair, on either them or Tabitha. He had made an excuse, followed by another excuse when she had said brightly, ‘Well then, how about the weekend after next?'

Tabitha was a great girl. He didn't want to hurt her or string her along. So here he was, about to do the deed as gently as possible.

God, he hoped she wouldn't cry.

 

‘Sweetheart, you're early!' Excited to see him, Tabitha gave him a hug and pulled him into the flat. ‘Now don't be cross, I know I said I was cooking tonight, but something's come up and I just haven't had time so we're going to be ordering in a pizza instead.'

‘That's fine.' Connor hadn't wanted Tabitha to cook in the first place, but she had gone all Nigella on him and insisted. Finishing with someone over a pizza would be far easier than doing it during the course of some dinner it may have taken her hours to cook.

‘Let's have a drink. We need to talk. God, everything's happened so fast.' Hurrying him through to the comfortably cluttered living room, Tabitha sloshed red wine into two glasses. All the better to throw at a man when he chucks you, thought Connor, watching her take out a cigarette. She was wearing a green striped shirt and a figure-hugging pink woollen skirt, and her handbag and jacket were dumped on the blue checked sofa, indicating that she hadn't long arrived home from work.

‘So what's all this about then?' Connor pulled a lighter from his trouser pocket and lit her cigarette.

Tabitha exhaled a long stream of smoke. ‘I've been offered a new job.'

‘Hey, great.'

‘In financial journalism.'

‘Tab, that's fantastic news!' He was genuinely pleased for her.

Taking a hefty gulp of wine, Tabitha said, ‘In New York.'

Connor almost shouted, ‘That's
brilliant
,' but sensed it wouldn't be appropriate. Over the rim of her wine glass, Tabitha was eyeing him intently.

Aloud he said, ‘Well . . . that's a surprise.'

‘I know. And I'm flattered, of course I am. It's always nice to be wanted. But I don't know whether to accept.'

‘I see.' Carefully, Connor said, ‘And why's that?'

‘Well, I was rather hoping you'd guess. It's a pretty good job,' said Tabitha, ‘but it's still only a job. How would you feel if I went to New York?'

‘Well, I'd . . . um, I don't really . . .'

‘Because if you'd rather I turned it down and stayed here,' Tabitha went on hurriedly, ‘I would. You know, if you thought we had something worth hanging on to, I'd turn them down in a flash.'

There was a kind of hopeful yearning in her eyes, but it was tinged with sadness.

‘Tab,' Connor said gently, ‘you're a great girl and I think a lot of you, but you mustn't turn down an opportunity like that on my account.'

There was a long silence, then Tabitha heaved a sigh and said, ‘Bugger. How did I know you were going to say that?'

‘Sweetheart, it's not you. It's me.'

Tabitha rolled her eyes. ‘How did I know you were going to say
that
?'

‘I hope we'll always be friends,' Connor struggled on.

‘
And
that.'

‘You deserve better than me,' said Connor.

‘And
that
!' By this time half laughing, half crying, Tabitha picked up her packet of cigarettes and pretended to throw them at him. ‘OK, don't say any more, I get the message.' She wiped her eyes and raised her glass. ‘Let's have a toast, shall we? To my dazzling new job and my dazzling new life. And to the fact that the next time I hear some man churning out those clichéd old lines, he'll be saying them to me in an American accent.'

They smiled at each other and clinked glasses. Overcome with relief, Connor gave Tabitha a hug, then they settled down together on the sofa.