by Dylann Crush
“I’m, um, not a fab dancer.” Lucy looked down at her hands as she spoke.
Of course Stefan didn’t hear her over the music. He bent down and his lips grazed her ear. “What did you say?”
For a second, Lucy thought about making her voice even lower so she could feel Stefan’s lips on her skin again. That zing down her spine was unexpected, and even though it made her feel slightly desperate, she wanted to feel it again. Just to see if it was an anomaly. But then she remembered who Stefan was, and made her voice firm and strong when she said, “I’m not a great dancer.”
Stefan smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing for you that I am.”
He then took her hand and they danced until she was breathless. Not because of the physical exertion – if anything Stefan was overly cautious because of Lucy’s ankle. But that zing she felt run down her spine was nothing compared to being chest to chest with him. Being in his arms reminded her of the jolt she’d gotten when she’d run over the cord of her electric lawn mower while using it. That day, she’d ended up with a black fingernail from where the voltage hit and a steady pulse throbbing in her hand all night. Tonight her palm tingled where it met Stefan’s, but the throbbing she felt was somewhere else entirely. Yes, he was a great dancer, but it was more his breath in her hair and the feel of his strong arm around her waist that was getting her hot. And bothered.
Which was annoying. Lucy wasn’t the type to be easily wooed, especially by a man who was all flash and no substance. She also wasn’t the type to get all judgy, and that was a pretty shit judgement on a guy who’d been nothing but nice to her. So when he leaned down and asked, “Do you want to get some fresh air?” Lucy nodded.
“I just need to grab my coat,” she said. As if a small delay would change anything. As if dancing with Stefan wasn’t her first mistake, and spending time alone with him didn’t have the potential to make everything worse.
All of these thoughts raced through Lucy’s head as she reached for her short black wool jacket on the back of her chair, but when she turned around to tell him she’d changed her mind, the words that came out instead were, “Okay. I’m all set.”
He grinned at her – the same grin from earlier – and Lucy bit her lip so she wouldn’t grin back. He’d take that as interest and she was in enough trouble already without encouraging him. Besides, it wasn’t like she was interested. She couldn’t/wouldn’t/shouldn’t be.
4
Stefan
Stefan asked Lucy if she wanted to step outside because every time he pulled her against him as they danced, he’d been more tempted to kiss her. Kissing her in the middle of a crowded dance floor felt high schoolish, though, so here they were. But once they were out in the damp November night air, he took a deep breath in and realized it was the first time tonight he could think. There was a lot to be said for being clearheaded and for a minute he forgot the Jingle Ball and Lucy and just inhaled the damp cool air as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The street was dead quiet, aside from the house behind them – all the shops were closed and the few streetlights dotting the sidewalk let out a low light that made the village feel like a scene straight out of Victorian England.
“This would show well,” Stefan murmured. “It’s the quintessential English village, isn’t it?”
“You mean it would show well on Your Friendly Local?” Lucy asked quietly. She didn’t wait for Stefan’s reply before continuing. “It would. Your London viewers would get a kick out of how provincial it all is.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“You’re not wrong.” Stefan couldn’t see Lucy’s face, but he would bet a shot of the best gin in town she rolled her eyes as she spoke. “We’ve got the butcher who’s been here for donkey’s years and knows everyone’s regular order. Did you know there’s a meat raffle at the Blue Dog every Friday night? The butcher’s in pretty tight with the community. Then there’s the Blue Dog itself, which will almost definitely go out of business if the Fat Rabbit makes a comeback. For now, that’s our friendly local, but maybe not for long. Anything else you’d like to know more about so you can make sure to cover it thoroughly?”
“It sounds like you’re asking if there’s anything else I’d like to know so I can mock it thoroughly.” Stefan ratcheted up his tone to half wanker. Full wanker was reserved for straight up assholes and Lucy wasn’t one. But she had that know-it-all tone and she was making assumptions about him and his intentions and it made him pissy. “Isn’t that what you’re asking?”
“Isn’t it one and the same?” Lucy didn’t rise to Stefan’s bait, which he admired. Reluctantly.
“You know, whenever Your Friendly Local comes to a location, we leave it better than it was. We put profits back into the community and create jobs, as well as creating a kick-ass pub.”
“We already have a pub.” Lucy’s tone was curt.
“It’s not all that great from what I hear.” Stefan shrugged. “The Fat Rabbit was Michelin-starred.”
“And it went under because Ash Wycombe can’t sustain a Michelin-star pub. Sure, we get some summer tourists who’ll try fancy food, but most of the time, people want their Sunday roasts and a Tuesday curry, with maybe a burger thrown in on a random Thursday. I mean, you ate the dinner in there tonight.” Lucy waved vaguely toward the door. “It was fine, but nothing special. I’m sure some people complained because they expected it to be more exciting. But if you tried to put a fancy sauce anywhere, you’d have a ton of complaints.”
“That’s the problem. People think Michelin ratings are about fancy sauces and fussy food, but they’re about quality and consistency, and making the ordinary exceptional.” This was a hill Stefan was willing to die on, and he didn’t try to hide his frustration as he spoke. “Take that Tuesday curry and put pineapple in it, for example. Or add foie gras to that burger.”
Lucy let out a low and throaty laugh. On anyone else he’d call it sexy, but he was pretty sure Lucy was laughing at him, which wasn’t sexy. At all. “Fine, I see your point. Although, may I say, if that’s your plan for the Fat Rabbit, don’t be surprised when it closes in six months. Again.”
“The Fat Rabbit might not even happen.” That was a lie, but before Stefan could backtrack Lucy’s eyebrows shot up.
“What do you mean it might not happen?” Lucy’s tone veered back to neutral, which made Stefan’s spidey sense tingle. He’d pissed off too many women in his life not to recognize Lucy’s tactic. She was invested in the answer but pretending not to be.
The question was why?
He shrugged again, but this time it was all for show. Unless Jane pulled her offer or there was something disastrously wrong with the pub itself, they’d be featuring the Fat Rabbit on the next season of Your Friendly Local. “We’re in the scouting phase. There are a few locations we’re considering.”
“I see.” Lucy nodded and pursed her lips. God, she had a gorgeous mouth. He hated that their conversation had veered away from flirtatious because, quite frankly, he’d rather be focusing on Lucy’s lips instead of her words. But then she said, “Well, one thing to consider if you do decide on Ash Wycombe is the train connections. Or should I say lack thereof? There’s no such thing as a quick journey to London from here.”
“What do you mean?” Stefan straightened. He and Lee had driven up to Ash Wycombe today, but Stefan liked to escape back to the city whenever he could - i.e. every chance he got. Country life was great, but sometimes he just needed a decent pizza. And a night in a club where people weren’t wearing wellies.
“There are a couple of direct trains, but it’s a notoriously bad line.” Lucy’s expression softened and as she waved her arm her hand brushed his. He had an urge to grab it and thread his fingers through hers, but she continued. “Flooding, trampolines on the rails, you name it, we’ve had it all. One time, they even suspended service because the weather was too sunny.”
“Great. What else?”
“What do you mean what else?” Lucy’s hand brushed his again and
this time he let his fingers flutter against hers. She didn’t yank her hand away, but she didn’t linger either, which was disappointing.
“What other reasons do you have that we shouldn’t come here? Lay ‘em on me.” Stefan shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers so he wouldn’t distract Lucy. Or be distracted himself. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he suggested they step outside, but here they were. And the sooner they got through this, the sooner they could focus on the casual flirting they’d been doing throughout this conversation. Lucy wouldn’t share the pitfalls of setting up Your Friendly Local in Ash Wycombe if they got sidetracked. To get them back on track, Stefan added, “Between you and me, I’m not sold that this is the right place for us. Maybe that’s a hunch I should pay attention to?”
Stefan didn’t make a habit of lying – there was too much to keep track of – but this was the second time in five minutes he lied right to Lucy’s face. He felt like an asshole, but it wasn’t personal. It was business, through and through.
Lucy Maclaren-like-the-car didn’t know it, but she just became part of his due diligence.
5
Lucy
Lucy tried to keep the smile off her face and her voice even, but inside her heart was doing cartwheels. There were one hundred reasons why Your Friendly Local shouldn’t come to Ash Wycombe and Lucy was more than happy to give Stefan ninety-nine of them. She’d keep one of them – the most important one – to herself. Just in case it made her seem biased.
“I mean, there are a million good things about Ash Wycombe.” Lucy gestured to the empty street. “Obviously.”
“Sure. Of course.” Stefan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “But tell me about the dark underbelly.”
“Well.” Lucy took a deep breath, inhaling Stefan’s citrusy aftershave. It should be a crime to smell that good. “We don’t have a hotel or anything for your crew. I think there are a few holiday lets, but they’re not five-star accommodations.”
“That’s not uncommon.” Stefan nodded. “On one project, we ended up glamping for the duration.”
“Glamping?” Lucy laughed. Stefan turned pale at the idea of walking through the mud. Glamping would do his head in.
“It was summer, so it was light at four a.m., and the birds were insane. Or maybe I was insane from not sleeping for three months. Either way, the birds almost killed me.” Stefan laughed.
Lucy tried not to notice that he had a very nice laugh. Or the way his laugh took away the wolfishness of his grin and made him seem approachable. She shouldn’t notice things like that. And she especially shouldn’t notice the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, like laughing was something he did a lot of. She liked a man who laughed and could make her laugh, too.
“We also don’t have any food delivery options.” Lucy hurried to continue. “Sometimes you can get pizza delivery from Little Fat Boys, but it depends on the driver.”
“Little Fat Boys? Isn’t that an oxymoron?” Stefan laughed again. Damn him. “It keeps getting better and better.”
“It’s actually pretty decent pizza, but the drivers can be a little moody.” Lucy grinned and continued. “One time my best friend was visiting and we wanted an order of pizza and chips. It took ages for them to get here and Kimmy, my friend, gave them hell when they finally arrived. So the driver left and refused to give us our order. We called to complain, but they claimed there was nothing they could do and deliveries were at the discretion of the driver.”
“What? Deliveries aren’t at the discretion of the driver. That’s literally the job.” Stefan shook his head. “Next thing you’ll tell me the local pub doesn’t serve ale.”
“Oh no. We’ve got a great selection of cask ales, actually. We even have Gem Bath Ale on tap.”
“We?” Stefan’s voice rose on the end of the E.
Shit. For a second Lucy had forgotten she was trying to discourage him from choosing Ash Wycombe for Your Friendly Local. More importantly, she’d forgotten why she was trying to discourage him. She shrugged and hoped she looked nonchalant. “I mean we as in the collective we. Kind of like we also have a pet store that refuses to sell dog food.”
“What?” Stefan furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“Fiona Walker, the owner, is Eleanor’s daughter.” Stefan’s face remained blank and she said, “She’s the one who gave the little speech inside at the ball?”
“Right. About the ornament.” Stefan shook his head. “I’ll never look at Santa’s sack the same way.”
“Exactly. Well, Fiona had a bunch of Corgis once. She was like a reclusive cat lady, but with dogs. Then one of the dogs got some kind of super contagious disease that wiped them all out. Fiona was devastated, as you would be, and she’s never had another dog since.” Lucy stuck her lower lip out in a small pout. “She took over the pet store a couple of years ago and her first business decision was to stop catering to the canine clientele because she said it was too painful.”
“Well, grief does things to people,” Stefan said. “I guess it’s a good thing I don’t have a dog I’d want to bring with me.”
“I can’t imagine you have a pet at all, do you?”
“Why not?”
“You have to actually be home sometimes if you have a pet. Aren’t you always traveling with the show?” Plus, there was the mess. Lucy couldn’t imagine Stefan carrying around a stash of poo bags in every pocket like she did because of Blue. Never mind actually using said bags.
“I had a fish once. Does that count?” Stefan smiled, but it wasn’t the same smile as earlier. This one made Lucy want to reach out and touch him again.
“Sure, I guess. Although is a fish really happy to see you when you come home?” Lucy raised her eyebrows.
“He used to wiggle his fin a lot after I’d been away, but for all I know, he always did that.” Stefan paused. “Do you have a pet?”
Lucy nodded. “A dog named Blue. She’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer but she’s fab.”
“What kind of dog is she?”
“She was a rescue, but they said she’s some kind of retriever/Alsatian mix. She’s big and sheds like you wouldn’t believe, but I can’t imagine my life without her.” Lucy couldn’t help smiling. Blue was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
“She sounds ace,” Stefan said. “I’m sure her owner has a lot to do with that.”
Blue was ace, but Stefan’s tone made Lucy straighten her shoulders. She wasn’t out here to talk about Blue, and she wasn’t out here to make friends with Stefan Cane. Even if it felt like that’s what this had morphed into. Friends with a side of flirt – her least favorite kind.
“Yeah, Blue’s great.” Lucy rubbed her hands on her arms. If she’d been sitting down, she’d have slapped her hands on her thighs, the most British indication ever that someone was about to bail. As it was, she was lucky it was cold since it gave her a ready excuse. “It’s chilly. I should probably get back in.”
“Do you want my jacket?” Stefan had already started shrugging off his suit jacket.
“No.” The word came out fast and loud, and Lucy laughed a little. The idea of wearing Stefan’s jacket, his scent surrounding her, was super appealing, but she shouldn’t. She wouldn’t. It was already bad enough that she’d be stalking the men’s fragrance counter in search of Stefan’s exact cologne. Just out of curiosity, of course. “I mean, thank you, but no. I’m fine. It was nice talking with you, though.”
It was nice. Way nicer than Lucy thought it would be. Or wanted it to be.
“Same.” Stefan paused for a second, then said, “Do you think I can have one more dance before you go?”
“A dance?” There was no harm in that, right? “Uh, sure? I guess.”
“Shall we?” Stefan opened his arms and held out his hand.
What? Here? On the uneven pavement outside Walker Hall? No! That would be weird. And cheesy. But possibly nice. Possibly probably better than nice.
Oh my God, was Stefan trying to be romantic
? The idea made Lucy’s heart race with anticipation, although she’d deny it forever if pressed.
“You do realize the ball is inside?” Lucy finally said.
“I do.” Stefan reached for her hand and Lucy let him take it. His hand was warm and firm in hers, despite the damp cool air. “But I kind of like it right here.”
Lucy nodded slowly as she stepped into his arms, which went around her like a duvet. A sexy, muscular duvet, but that was her analogy and she was sticking with it. Stefan’s one hand settled on her lower back and the other cupped her hand gently. They were standing much closer than they had been inside, and Lucy could feel every breath in the rise and fall of Stefan’s chest against hers.
Then he started to hum. He was a little off key, so it took Lucy a few bars to figure out the tune, Ella Fitzgerald’s “It Had to Be You.” It seemed like an old-fashioned choice for this sexy city man, but for Lucy it was perfect. She’d always loved that song and having Stefan semi-serenade her was probably the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her. Whether he meant it to be or not.
As she let her body melt into Stefan’s a bit more, Lucy admitted to herself that being at the Jingle Ball wasn’t so bad. Okay, so they weren’t actually inside the ball, and yes, Stefan was technically the enemy. But right now – despite all her proclamations of wouldn’t, couldn’t, shouldn’t – it was perfect.