by Sandy Barker
It was excellent and so were the strawberry jam and butter she slathered onto it and the pot of breakfast tea, which she finished. And apparently, in a swanky hotel in inner London, it was not called English breakfast tea—that part was implied. In any case, it was perfect—strong with a heady scent and served with a small jug of Jersey’s creamiest milk.
But even a delicious breakfast couldn’t distract her from a series of vicious thoughts. What if this is just a bit of fun for Archer? What if he’s with me to make Madison jealous? What if I never see him again after this holiday?
Eventually, it was time to go back to the room, which she did to find it in pristine condition with all the amenities replenished. She checked her appearance in the large mirror that ran the length of the two-sink vanity, then looked herself in the eye.
“Right, Chloe Sims. When he gets back, you are telling Archer how you feel. And if he doesn’t feel the same way, you’re getting on a bus straight back to Oxfordshire, and you will spend the next few days having a lovely time with Max and Susan before getting on that plane.”
The pep talk did little to assuage the turmoil she was in, however, and she spent the rest of the time waiting for Archer reading a book she’d brought with her—well, staring at the same page over and over and not taking in any of it. Usually she dived right into a gory crime thriller, but that day, blood spatter was far less gruesome than what had occurred earlier.
She heard the key card in the lock just before lunch and looked up. Instead of Archer, in walked an enormous bunch of pink lilies, and her face involuntarily broke into a smile. Archer moved the flowers to the side and grinned at her. “Hello, lovely,” he said, his face filled with affection.
Everything she’d rehearsed, the stoic, calm greeting, flew out of her head as she launched herself off the couch and threw her arms around his neck. He pulled her close with his free arm, laughing gleefully at her effusive hello. She breathed in his spicy scent mixed with the sweetness of the lilies.
“I missed you,” she mumbled into his neck. When she lifted her face to his, he looked into her eyes for a moment before bending to press his mouth softly to hers.
“I missed you, too.” He stepped back slightly, and she felt the loss of his touch intensely. “These are for you, as a thank you gift for being so patient.” If only he knew how much I deserve these.
“Thank you,” she said graciously. She was about to take the flowers from him when his expression changed, suddenly serious. “Chloe, something’s happened. What is it?” That he could know that just by looking at her answered Chloe’s most pressing question, the one that had played on repeat in her mind ever since Madison’s intrusion.
He feels the same way.
“Well … look, there’s no easy way to tell you, so I’m just gonna say it. Madison let herself into the room and found me in the bath.” In any other circumstance, the look on his face would have been comical. “Yes, that. That was pretty much my reaction too.”
Archer seemed to gather his wits somewhat, placing the bouquet on a table near the door before making his way to the couch. He plopped down, a frown settling onto his handsome features. Chloe sat next to him and tucked her feet beneath her.
“But I don’t … why? And how was she even let in here? Oh, Chloe, I’m so, so sorry.” He shook his head, obviously still in disbelief.
“It’s not your fault. You don’t need to apologise. She does, but not you.”
Archer angled his body towards her, his expression changing from confusion to concern, his hand reaching to stroke her cheek. “Are you all right? She didn’t do anything to you, did she?”
From the way he’d asked the question, it was clear that her encounter with Madison could have been far worse.
“Oh, no, nothing like that. Unless you count saying cruel things to me but, you know … I’m a big girl and all that.” Chloe smiled feebly.
“God, I’m so, so sorry. Here I am inviting you to London with me so I could spend proper time with you, and I’ve gone and put you in the firing line.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and blew out an exasperated sigh.
“Archer, this isn’t your fault. But I do think you need to talk to her.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose so. Quite right. And the hotel. I can’t believe they let her in here.”
“Yes, well, she had her own key card, so someone on the front desk was a little lax in the security department. And she did say that a member of your publicity team alerted her that you were staying here.”
“Bollocks! Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks!”
Chloe couldn’t help the snicker that burst from her mouth. It was such a silly swear word, like something out of a Monty Python sketch.
“What?” His eyes, filled with mirth, met hers. “Are you disparaging my choice of profanity?” he asked with a mock-serious glare.
“Never.”
“Like buggery, you weren’t, Ms Sims.” He gave her a look worthy of a pantomime. Chloe wouldn’t have been surprised to suddenly hear a chorus of, “Look behind you, look behind you.”
She sighed dramatically—two could play at this game—and returned the hard stare. “Mr Tate, may I remind you that I am from Australia where we say the F-word on TV and include words like ‘bloody’ and ‘bugger’ in award-winning ad campaigns. Yes, I know that those are the height of profanity here in the UK, but in ’Straya”—she bunged on a broad Aussie accent—“they are regularly heard on the playground.”
His mouth puckered in an obvious attempt not to smile. “Is that so?”
It was time for the big guns, the Ocker accent! “Yeah, mate, so drop the airs and graces and let’s call a spade a spade. Your ex is deadset batty, mate. For realz.”
He threw his head back and laughed, then, regarding her with an amused smile, conceded the win to her. “Good lord, that accent. Very Australian, well done you.”
“You know, there some are people who, when they meet me, think I’m English—Americans mostly.”
“Is that so?” He seemed dubious.
“Yes. Maybe it’s because they think all Australians sound like the Crocodile Hunter.”
“Crikey!”
“That was an appalling accent, by the way. I thought you we supposed to be a good actor.”
“Oh, you’re in trouble, you are.” He stood and before she knew what was happening, he had scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he deposited her unceremoniously with a plop and climbed on top of her. She was giggling so hard she didn’t have time to escape.
“Archer, stop, stop!” His legs straddled her hips and, hovering over her, he peppered kisses over her face and neck, before finally sitting back and regarding her with a grin.
“Do you really want me to stop?”
She shook her head and he dipped his to capture her mouth in a delicious kiss, then raised it just enough to meet her eyes. One finger trailed the features of her face and she watched as his gaze followed. “You have the most extraordinary eyes,” he whispered. She lowered her lashes and smiled softly, flattered by his appreciative gaze. “And mouth and cheeks,” he added, then nuzzled her ear and kissed it. “And ears …” She giggled again, his breath tickling her.
He sat back, his smile revealing that he was both playing with those cheesy words and completely serious. “You know, we could skip Winter Wonderland and stay here, let me make love to you all day, show you just how much I adore you.” he said.
Chloe’s breath caught in her throat. He adored her! And no man had ever said they wanted to “make love” to her before. It was all achingly romantic, and she was almost swayed. Yet, she really did want to go to Winter Wonderland.
“Come back,” she said, tugging on his shirt. He complied, nestling in next to her. She rolled onto her side to face him, her turn to take him in. As she revelled in the sculpted features of his face, she mentally pinched herself; he was just so beautiful. She kissed him, his lips moving against hers instantly as the tip of her tongue sought out his. Th
e taste of him was incredible, almost sweet, and she found herself lost in the sensation of not just his mouth, but the feel of his body pressed against her, his hand splayed on the small of her back pulling her close to him and the scent of his spicy cologne making her heady.
Chloe had never wanted anyone more.
“How about this?” she murmured against his lips. “How about we mess up this perfectly made bed and then go to Winter Wonderland?”
He grinned at her from an inch away. “You really do love Christmas, don’t you?”
Not as much as I love you.
The thought startled her so much, she nearly said it aloud. “Yes,” she said instead, her lips resting against his. “It is my second favourite thing in the world.”
“And the first?” His eyes were alive with mischief.
Chloe pulled him closer and answered the question with another kiss.
Chapter 25
Lucy
“Excellent meal, Steph, Jackie—thank you. Menfolk, we’re on clean up,” Nate declared. He stood and stretched his arms out with a grunt. When there was no movement around the table, he looked at Bob, Joe, Will, and Bradley in turn, his eyebrows raised.
There was a beat before every male at the table stood and started clearing plates and platters. Will winked at Lucy as he took her plate and she rewarded him with a smile. He was the cutest waiter she’d ever had. With that thought, she realised that she was more than a little tipsy and memories of that morning came flooding back. She reached for her water glass.
As she watched the bustling “menfolk”, as Nate had called them, she tried to imagine her father on clean-up duty. She hiccupped a little laugh and clapped her hand over her mouth.
“So, Lucy,” said Briony, picking up her wine glass and settling in next to Lucy, “you and Will, huh?” All eyes were on Lucy and hers flew to the doorway to the kitchen, where she heard the clatter of cleaning up and men’s voices. She looked around the table. The twins, Steph and Jackie, sat opposite her and she was flanked by the cousins, Bridget staring at her wide-eyed and Briony clearly waiting for a response.
She was in the hot seat.
“Uh, yes, I suppose you could say that we’re something of an item.” Bridget giggled and Lucy felt ridiculous. Why was she talking like a character from Downton Abbey?
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed,” said Bridget. “I think the two of you are sweet together.” Bridget’s cheeks flushed and Lucy felt that solidarity with her again.
Of all the women around the table, Lucy and Bridget were the most alike, and it would have been the same if Jules were there. As Lucy saw it, the women in Jules’s family—Bridget excepted—would never know what it was like to be socially awkward or feel unattractive and gawky. With their lean figures, long glossy waves of flaxen hair, and extremely pretty faces, it was like they’d stepped out of a GAP ad, every one of them.
In contrast, she felt like the great pretender. Yes, she’d been told she was pretty, beautiful even, but she’d never really believed it. It certainly wasn’t what she saw when she looked in the mirror. She saw a pale, freckled, and gangly woman with bright red hair, whose eyes were too large and too far apart, whose nose was unremarkable, and whose mouth was too wide. She had only ever been complimented by men when they wanted to sleep with her. She’d even let herself believe them a few times.
“I think you’re good for Will,” added Briony.
“Really? Why, what do you mean?”
“I haven’t seen him this happy since Tif—”
Lucy caught the quick look Steph gave Briony as she cut her off. “Since a long time ago.”
“Are you going to marry Will?” asked Bridget.
Lucy had timed her next sip of water poorly and spat most of it out onto the table, coughing and spluttering. She barely registered Briony chastising her sister with a sharp hiss of, “Bridget!”
Was she really supposed to answer Bridget’s question? She hadn’t been serious, surely? Lucy chanced a glance at her. Seeing that Bridget was now bright red, Lucy desperately wanted to save her from further humiliation.
“Oh, you were just teasing, right Bridget?” Bridget gawped at her in surprise, eventually catching on and nodding her response. “I mean, I’ve only just met Will. And this isn’t one of those silly holiday movies—you know, boy meets girl, they both want the same Christmas tree, they argue over it, all cross with each other, then fall madly in love.”
“No, instead it’s your best friend’s brother, and you’re super into each other, and you’re hands down the nicest woman he’s ever shown interest in.” Briony was definitely her mother’s daughter. Lucy looked across the table at Jackie, who nodded in agreement.
Lucy was not used to this kind of honesty. In her family, they talked around things. No one ever came right out and said what they were thinking.
“We’ve probably grilled Lucy enough for one evening,” said Steph. Lucy could have kissed her. “Girls, why don’t you finish clearing the table?” Bridget popped right out of her seat as though a reprieve had been granted, but Briony took her time getting up, then joined her sister in gathering various pieces of dinnerware before retreating to the kitchen. “Hey, Jackie, Lucy’s mom sent over that Christmas cake. How about putting on some coffee and cutting some slices?” It was hardly subtle, but Lucy was grateful that Steph was clearing the room on her behalf.
“Oh, sure. It’s wrapped in aluminium foil, right Lucy? On the kitchen counter?”
“That’s right. Thin slices would be good. It’s extremely rich and boozy.”
“No problem.” She and Jackie shared a smile, then Jackie left the table.
When she was out of earshot, Lucy threw Steph a grateful look. “Thank you. That was a little, um … intense.”
“Yeah, tact doesn’t exactly run in their family. How about we go into the living room?”
Lucy and Jackie settled on either end of one of the long leather sofas, the sounds from the kitchen becoming background noise. “We’ll have a little time before the others join us. You said there was something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Oh, yes!” Lucy had been so stuck on replaying the awkward conversation about Will that she’d all but forgotten about the matter of her manager, Angela. Mindful of the short time she’d have Steph to herself, she gave the digest version of how Angela seemed to be undermining her at every turn, and how a job that Lucy had enjoyed was becoming more and more demoralising.
“Hmm, and how long has Angela been with the company?”
“Close to eight months now. Although, in some ways it seems far longer.”
“And how long was her predecessor there, your former boss?”
“Oh, that was Nigel. He was so lovely. He hired me, actually, and that was … eleven years ago. I think he’d been with the firm thirty-odd years when he retired.” Lucy had adored Nigel, learning so much from him, and appreciating his gentle and nurturing management style.
“So, Angela came in to replace someone who was at the firm for three decades?”
Steph was getting at something, although Lucy wasn’t quite sure what it was. “Yes, that’s right.”
“I imagine that would have been somewhat challenging.”
Oh, right. Now Lucy understood. Steph was helping her find a way to empathise with Angela. “Quite. I hadn’t thought of it like that. Do you suppose that she may be trying to find her footing, to assert herself in some way?”
“Something like that. I’m not saying it’s okay for her to walk all over you or undermine you, but it sounds like it could be coming from a place of insecurity. I’ve seen it before. In fact, I’ve been guilty of it myself.”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. Years ago, now, when I was promoted into my first managerial role, I thought I had to go in guns blazing, ready to defend my ground.” She raised her eyebrows, a wry smile on her face.
“How did that go?”
“Terribly.” Steph laughed quietly. “But I had a good me
ntor, and she taught me how to be firm and fair without coming across as a tyrant. It was probably the steepest learning curve of my career.” That was saying a lot, as Steph was the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, one of only forty women to hold that position. “I also had a couple of key employees who knew how to manage up. You’ve heard of that, right?”
“Vaguely, but I’m not sure exactly what it means.”
“It means that they helped coach me to be the kind of manager they needed me to be.”
“So, that’s what I should do?”
“Look, I’m only going on what you’ve told me, but I think it may be the right approach. Send her an email and set up a meeting. Tell her that you’re excited for the New Year, especially everything you can learn from her. You could even ask her to be your mentor.” Lucy scrunched up her nose and Steph smiled. “I know, it seems counterintuitive, but if she feels like she has something to offer you, she’s going to be more inclined to listen to you and to stop undermining you. You make the first move; you set the tone for how you want things to be going forward.”
Lucy bit her lip and stared into the blue and yellow flickering flames in the fireplace imagining Angela as her mentor. It could work. And, really, anything would be better than being miserable at work or having to look for a new job. She looked back at Steph. “I’ll do it. I’ll take your advice. And thank you—for your help, and for letting me have a whinge.”
“Oh, no problem, honey. And, you know, once you get home and you’re working through all of this, if you want to talk some more, just get in touch. Okay?”
Lucy nodded, trying to quell the mild panic that arose. She didn’t want to think about being back home without Will. As her stomach twisted itself in knots, Jules’s family streamed through the doorway en masse, bringing with them loud and cheery conversations and after-dinner treats, including a plate piled high with her mum’s Christmas cake. Not typically one to eat her feelings, Lucy practically lunged at the plate, taking the fattest slice and biting off a corner.
“I’m definitely getting me some of that,” said Will. He handed her a paper napkin from the stack beside the plate and she took it sheepishly. How rude of her to help herself before anyone else had, and without a napkin or a plate. Will didn’t seem to notice her poor manners and when he had his own slice, he sat next to her and draped his free arm around her shoulder.