by Nikki Ashton
‘That was what I needed, just for you to hold me.’
‘See,’ he said giving me a squeeze. ‘I can be a really good boyfriend when I’m not being miserable.’
‘How good? Good enough to take me for some lunch now?’
‘Yep, that good.’
He kissed me again and pushed us up from the chair.
‘You want to go out, or would you prefer me to go and get us something?’ he asked, taking his wallet from his desk drawer. ‘Because, to be honest, you look a bit snotty.’
Before I could say anything, he started laughing and pulled me against his chest. He then gave me one more kiss to my lips before he moved away.
He got to the doorway and turned and looked over to me.
‘Come on then, snotty, what are you waiting for?’ he said with a grin.
As he disappeared out into my office I couldn’t help but sigh with contentment and allow the thought ‘Summer Holliday’ to enter my head.
‘So,’ Emma said as we sat in The Tea Cup Café, tucking into cake, ‘you think you might love him?’
‘Yeah,’ I sighed dreamily.
I’d called Emma and asked her to meet me because things had been niggling away in my head. The catalyst to me urgently needing my friend—and cake—had been a telephone conversation with my Mum that morning. Apparently Pippa had called and had said she wasn’t coming home, but, as my mother said, ‘Things are okay now, she’s apologised.’ When I protested that an apology shouldn’t excuse her, I was told: ‘But she’s our baby.’
As we’d sat down with a coffee and a huge slab of chocolate cake in front of us, I’d told Emma everything, from Roman warning me about Jack, me finding the shoes that Pippa had bought, me having a meltdown in the office, and, finally, my annoyance at my parents’ inability to see past Pippa being the baby of the family.
‘And there were nine pairs?’ Emma asked, her eyes huge.
‘Yes, including a pair of Sophia Websters that she knows I’m desperate for?’
‘God that’s low,’ Emma said with a slight shake of the head. ‘But I have a feeling that isn’t the real reason you wanted cake today. So what’s really upsetting you?’
‘Apart from sister running off with someone and stealing money from my parents—I don’t know, Emma, what could it be?’ I shrugged.
Emma tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. She wanted the truth.
‘Okay,’ I said with a sigh. ‘I want Caroline out of Roman’s house, and I feel a bitch about it. I know she has a child, but I’m falling in love with Roman, and I know he cares about me, so this should be our time. Time that we spend alone, getting to know each other, and enjoying that first fluttering of love.’
‘And she’s cramping your style?’ Emma questioned.
I let out a long exhale, thinking about everything. Was she encroaching on our time together? Was Roman holding back because Caroline was in the house? I had to be honest.
‘No, that’s the thing, she isn’t,’ I replied, my voice breaking. ‘She stays out of our way, and is really respectful of our time together, and Maisie is the cutest little girl, but …’
I couldn’t get the words out as the sob broke through.
‘Hey,’ Emma said in a soothing voice, rubbing my forearm, ‘it’s okay, don’t get upset, sweetie.’
‘But I just want her gone, Em. This is something good that’s happening for me and Roman, and I hate having her around. And that makes me such a bitch.’
As I started to cry, Emma got up from her seat and came to my side. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing it tightly.
‘You need to speak to Roman,’ she whispered. ‘You shouldn’t be getting upset like this.’
‘He’s spoken to her already, after Tiff got upset, and she said she’s going to find somewhere, but she doesn’t seem to making much effort.’
‘So bide your time, she’ll be gone soon.’
I looked at Emma with tear-filled eyes. ‘I just don’t trust her, Em. I know she’s been nice and everything, but I don’t think she wants to leave.’
Emma wiped my face with her hand and brushed a stray hair from my forehead.
‘You really need to talk to him,’ she said. ‘You know you do.’
‘But he already feels bad about upsetting Tiff with having her stay. I don’t want to make him feel any worse.’
‘Well, it’s up to you,’ Emma said. ‘But if you don’t say something, then you can’t complain about her staying.’
‘I just don’t want him to hate me for it.’
She studied me for a moment and then said. ‘Why would he?’
‘Because it’s more trouble that I’ll be stirring up, as well as me giving Jack the information that he needed.’
‘But you said he was okay about you telling Pippa?’
‘He was, he is,’ I replied. ‘But it was still me that gave Alan Cromwell’s name to Jack.’
The guilt just wouldn’t go away, no matter what Roman said.
‘Has he said something to make you think he really is angry about it.’
‘Not exactly, and I’m probably being stupid.’
‘And didn’t you say that Tiffany had already asked him to get rid of Caroline?’
‘Yes …’
‘But?’ she asked.
‘After my mini-meltdown in the office yesterday,’ I sighed, ‘he was lovely and sweet all day. We went out for dinner last night, but he was really quiet.’
‘He didn’t speak or he was off with you?’
‘No, he was lovely and he engaged in conversation with me, but it was as if he was following a script.’ I chewed on my bottom lip. ‘All really polite, as if we’d only just met.’
‘Maybe he’s tired?’ Emma offered. ‘You did say he’s been working hard trying to get work moving.’
‘Yeah, he has. He’s waiting to hear from a brewery about some pubs that need a refurb, and he’s constantly on the phone to the council about those damn birds. The nest was supposed to be checked last Friday, but they are coming on Monday now.’
‘Well, that’s good news.’
‘Yes, I suppose,’ I sighed. ‘As long as they say it’s okay to start work.’
‘That doesn’t sound too bad to me.’
‘I know, Emma, but we didn’t have sex last night, or this morning.’
Emma laughed and shook her head. ‘Oh how dreadful.’
‘He did hold me all night, and I fell asleep with him tracing circles on my back, but he didn’t even want wake-up sex this morning. And he always wants wake-up sex, especially on a Saturday morning.’
Emma giggled, and with a blush to her cheeks, looked down at her cake. ‘Henry loves wake-up sex.’
‘There you go, why didn’t Roman want wake-up sex with me this morning?’
Emma shrugged. ‘Maybe he can’t perform with Caroline in the house?’
‘Oh he can, and he does.’ I sighed and rested my chin in my hand. ‘I must admit, Maisie was running around outside his bedroom door this morning.’
‘That’ll be it,’ Emma replied.
I finished the last of my coffee and sat back in my seat, not totally satisfied with that explanation.
‘Don’t worry too much,’ Emma said. ‘You’ll talk to Roman, he’ll ask Caroline to go and you’ll get Roman-the-Sex-God back.’
I gave a small laugh, and hoped that she was right.
The day after my chat with Emma, we finally got some good news. Mr. Williams at the planning office called to say work could recommence at The Palisades. Apparently, according to the experts, the Marsh Harriers’ nest was abandoned and probably had been for a couple of years. How they knew that was anyone’s guess, but it meant work could start again on The Palisades, as soon as Roman managed to get a new gang of workers together, seeing as most of them had abandoned ship to work for Jack Abbott.
I’d expected Roman to be happy, but the problems about finding a new gang was evidently playing on his mind, if his mood was anything to go
by.
He’d seemed fine the night before, while watching the film I’d wanted to see. We’d snuggled up on the sofa, Roman lying the full length of it, with me tucked in front of him wrapped in his arms. Thankfully, Caroline had gone upstairs with Maisie to watch TV in her room. Roman had even let out a few belly laughs at the film. A perfect evening had ended with some hot, quick sex on the sofa, followed by one of the best ever goodnight kisses, when I’d finally decided to go home.
Today, however, his mood was dour and he was being a pain in the neck.
‘Summer, where the hell is the contract for Darrington Hall?’ Roman asked without looking up from his phone.
‘In the folder called “Darrington Hall”, in the usual place. You know, the one where I put all our contracts. The one that you ask me about almost every week.’
I couldn’t help but be snarky with him, he’d done nothing but moan and niggle all morning. At one point he’d even bawled at me to stop singing, because in his words, ‘You sound like a damn foghorn.’
Roman’s head rose slowly, his dark eyes narrowed as they met mine.
‘Is that sarcasm totally necessary?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘You’ve been a misery all day.’
‘Because, believe it or not, I have more on my mind that what colour nail polish to put on tonight, or what stupidly expensive pair of shoes I’ll buy next.’
‘Seriously, you think that’s all I care about?’
‘Well,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Isn’t it?’
A thudding started in my temples as my blood began to boil. I cared a great deal about his damn business, and he knew it.
‘I can’t believe you just said that, you stupid chauvinistic pig.’ I pushed up from my chair, putting my hands to my hips. ‘How dare you, when you know how much I care about this company?’
The rage I was feeling was beating against my chest now, and I really wanted to slap his face.
‘Oh yeah,’ Roman scoffed. ‘You care so much that you told Jack Abbott about my new client.’
My eyes widened as his words stabbed at my heart. Roman’s eyes darkened as he watched me, waiting for my response. Breathing heavily, I shook my head.
‘You know what Roman, I think I’m feeling a little sick,’ I said. ‘And I can’t see me feeling better for a while, so you may want to get a temp in.’
Roman’s breathing was the only sound in the room as I pulled open my drawer, emptied a couple of things out of it into my handbag, and then banged it shut. I reached the door before he spoke.
‘Summer, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean …’
‘Yeah, Roman, you did,’ I said on a shaky breath.
‘Summer,’ he pleaded, putting a hand to my elbow.
I snatched my arm away and slammed out of the office, dashing tears from my cheeks as I scuttled through the main building, ignoring the worried glances of everyone else.
‘Bloody piece of crap,’ I cried, kicking at the tyre of my car. ‘Argh.’
After storming out of the office I had decided that some retail therapy was in order. So I’d driven the thirty miles or so to the huge shopping centre at the edge of Manchester. It was only once I’d tried on half a dozen dresses and three pairs of jeans in the first store that I’d realised that I didn’t actually have my purse. I remembered then it was in my jacket pocket that was hanging in the office. I’d put it in there earlier, when I’d gone to get Roman and myself coffee and toast from the café on the corner, foolishly trying to cheer him up. So, without enough cash on me for even a bottle of water, I’d driven home still feeling pretty irate. The twenty-seven missed calls and ten text messages from Roman hadn’t helped either—at least he’d stopped about an hour ago, when I’d finally sent him a text that simply said: ‘Get stuffed.’
I’d made it to within two miles of home when my car slowed down to a dead stop. My luck had run out as I’d been driving on fumes for the last forty minutes, so to get that far had been a bonus. The only problem was the nearest petrol station was probably about three miles away, and I was not in walking shoes, plus, I had no damn money.
With another frustrated kick to the car, I pulled my mobile out of my bag and went through my contact list. It was three o’clock on a Monday afternoon and everyone would be working. I scrolled to Emma’s number as she was probably the most likely to be able to come and rescue me. I stabbed my finger at the screen and listened to the dial tone. After getting her voicemail twice, I gave up. It was only then that I remembered that she was actually off work. She had gone to a spa hotel with her mum for the day and was probably, at that very moment, in the middle of being massaged.
Leaning back on the bonnet of my car, I stared down at my phone, wondering who else I could try? Dad was working and today was mum’s day for volunteering at a local charity shop-she’d come if I asked, but I wasn’t sure I was in the mood for a lecture about keeping a proper eye on my fuel gauge. As for Dylan, well, he’d be saving some poor animal’s life, or flirting with their owner, no doubt, and I couldn’t possibly drag him away from that. There was no one else that I could think of.
With a heavy sigh, I decided the only thing I could do, was walk the two miles home, and call Dylan later to take me to get fuel and then back to my car. No doubt by the time I got home, my feet would be covered in blisters, but what choice did I have?
Then—call it good luck, divine intervention, whatever—a truck with a ladder and cement mixer on the back pulled up behind my car. I looked at the driver and sighed with relief.
‘Oh thank God, Alfie. Am I glad to see you.’
Alfie Chambers walked lazily towards me with a huge cocky grin on his face.
‘I knew that you’d want me one day,’ he said with a wink. ‘Any idea what’s wrong with it?’
I grimaced. ‘No fuel and no money to get any.’
‘Seriously?’ Alfie started to laugh. ‘You disappoint me, Summer. I kind of expected more from you than running out of petrol.’
I knew he was joking, but my argument with Roman was still playing on my mind, and I wasn’t in the mood for any of Alfie’s smart comments.
‘I know, okay, there’s no need to remind me.’
Alfie started to laugh and walked towards the truck. ‘Well, maybe next time you’ll remember this moment, being stranded. Although,’ he said as he looked at my feet over his shoulder, ‘maybe a better idea would be to have a pair of flat shoes in the car, so that if it does happen again, you can actually walk to the petrol station.’
I glanced down at my shoes and had to agree, but style always won over comfort as far as I was concerned.
‘Whatever, Alfie. So are you going to lend me some money and take me to the petrol station?’
‘No need,’ he replied. ‘I’ve got some petrol in the back of the truck. Lucky for you. Unless of course your car is diesel?’
‘No, it’s not.’
Alfie reached inside the bed of the truck and pulled out a plastic petrol can. He came back over to my car and emptied the contents into my tank.
‘You can keep this in case you ever need one again,’ he replied, opening up my boot and putting the empty, plastic petrol can in it.
‘Thanks, Alfie,’ I said on a sigh.
‘No problem, but I’d say you owe me a date for helping you out.’
Alfie leaned against the bonnet of my car, a glint in his eye and a cheeky grin on his face.
‘What?’ I asked, as he stared at me.
‘I’m waiting for you to agree to go on a date with me.’
He folded his arms across his chest and looked as though he wasn’t going to move anytime soon. Tall and blonde, Alfie was definitely good-looking, but there was something about him that had always made me keep him at arm’s length. His many women, and the way that he boasted about them, being the main reason.
‘Alfie, you do know that I’m seeing Roman, right?’
At the mention of Roman’s name, something dropped in my stomach. I hated th
at we’d argued, but I wasn’t putting up with him blaming me for something that he’d insisted on many occasions wasn’t my fault. Either he’d been lying before, or he was just being hateful today. I was hoping that it was the latter, but I couldn’t help but think otherwise.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Alfie replied. ‘But I figure, you don’t ask, you don’t get.’
‘Well, sorry, but you’re not getting.’
Alfie started to laugh and hugged me against his side.
‘I’ll wear you down.’
His arm around me felt alien, and I twisted to get from under it.
It was at that moment that a car screeched to a halt behind mine. A door slammed, and the next thing I knew an angry-looking Roman was standing in front of us.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ he demanded, fisting his hands at his sides.
Alfie loosened his hug, but kept his arm behind me. I glanced at him and knew by the cocky grin that he was goading Roman. I shifted away and took a step towards Roman.
‘I asked you a question?’ Roman demanded.
Alfie looked at Roman and shook his head. ‘Sorry?’ he asked.
‘Roman,’ I warned, taking another step closer.
‘I said what the fuck is going on?’
Roman was staring at Alfie, not acknowledging me in any shape or form. I knew from the way his eyes were narrowed and the pulse in his jaw was ticking wildly that he was not happy.
‘Roman, Alfie stopped to help me,’ I said, as I moved in front of him, directly in his vision. ‘I ran out of petrol, and he kindly helped me out.’
‘I’ve been looking for you for the last three hours, did it not occur to you that I might be worried sick? Yet here you are with him, with his hands on you? Thank God I was driving past. And I’ll say it again—looking for you.’
I took a deep breath and silently counted to ten. It probably didn’t look good, but I would hope that he would realise that I wasn’t interested in Alfie Chambers, whatsoever.
‘I’m sorry, boss,’ Alfie said, ‘but what’s the problem?’
Roman took a step to the left to get a view of Alfie.
‘The problem, Alfie,’ he growled, ‘is that you have your hands on my girlfriend.’