by Nikki Ashton
“It doesn’t matter what you say, I know how I feel in this moment and how I’ve felt since that day, at lunch, probably since I met you. I’ve told you I can’t get you out of my head, so why should I keep trying? If fate means us to be happy, we will be if it doesn’t then so be it, but I for one am not ready to spend the rest of my life regretting not giving it a try. So Miss Price, are yer willing to give it a go?” he asked insistently.
Charlotte almost melted, as she looked into his flashing, expectant eyes. “I’ve got nothing to lose, except my heart again, so I suppose it wouldn’t hurt would it?”
“Grand girl, I knew that I could persuade you.” Niall once more sat beside Charlotte, leaning forward in order to kiss her.
Charlotte put her hand up to stop him getting any closer. “No Niall, not until things are sorted. I don’t want to hold you to ransom, but I can’t risk feeling crap again, like I did all Christmas." Niall looked at her questioningly. “Yes you’ve battered my head as well. I was plastered all Christmas, just to blot out any thoughts of you and Ingrid. You see I was absolutely hooked too, probably from that first day, so I’m sorry, but I can’t take the risk in case it doesn’t happen.” Tears pricked her eyes, as Charlotte remembered the ache within her heart over Christmas.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realise. I understand how you feel, but I promise that by the end of the week, I will have told Ingrid.” He leaned across and gently kissed the end of Charlotte’s nose. “That will have to do until then.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I think that I should go before I break resolve.” Charlotte stood up, and smoothed down her jumper. Every part of her body wanted to stay and spend the night with him, longing to wake up in his arms the next day, but she had to be strong; the awkwardness of Grant’s last visit still haunting her.
“Okay, can I call you tomorrow,” he asked questioningly.
Charlotte shook her head. “No, call me when it’s all over.” She clutched her head with both her hands. “Urgh, this is horrible, why can’t life be simple?”
Niall forced a smile. “Because it isn’t; not where matters of the heart are concerned. Like my ma says, 'hearts would be made of iron if they weren’t meant to be broken,' no, not very comforting is she?”
As Charlotte walked into the cold evening air, Niall caught hold of her elbow, slowly turning her around to face him. “Are yer sure that I can’t give you a little kiss?” he asked, gazing deeply into her eyes.
“Nope, I’m not sure, but I reckon it’s best if you don’t. Bye then and hopefully I’ll see you soon,” she answered, walking away.
“You will, and be careful driving home. I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I will call you soon; I promise.”
Charlotte grinned widely and blew him a kiss, then getting into her car she sped off before she gave in and ran back into the cottage.
She was glad that she hadn’t rung Tom and tempted fate, because if she had she may not have been feeling as happy as she was now. She oozed confidence as she walked to the bar to meet her brother and his friends, turning the heads of the early evening revellers. She wouldn’t tell anybody about today, not until it was official, then she would shout it out to anyone who would listen. This was going to happen. She could feel it; it had to happen. She hadn’t felt like this when she first met Grant. Niall was all she could think of, these last few days, since Christmas, she’d put a show on for Bets and everyone else. All the business with Kerry had kept her mind off him in the daylight hours, but when night came she had been going to bed early, closing her eyes tight shut reliving every moment, every conversation, and every look that passed between, forcing dreams of Niall into her sleep. Now though she didn’t have to dream, unless fate dealt them a heavy blow, she would be living her every fantasy with Niall. That was as long as fate, and Ingrid, played by the rules.
Chapter 26
It was a very cold, damp Wednesday evening, and Bets was not happy. She was going to a local hotel to do a make-up demonstration, specifically for brides to be. Bets just wanted to curl up in front of the fire and watch T.V., not spend hours discussing which eye shadow would match the bride’s bouquet; at least, Tom would be keeping her company. It was payback time. The Bridal Fair organiser asked that she do a session on bridegroom facials, and Tom was going to be her Guinea pig. Tom wasn’t very happy about it; he’d had a chance of a date with a girl whom he’d met in the pub. She had been anxious to repeat their drunken fumbling of the previous evening, and Tom was most put out that he would have to put her on hold.
“Look, you offered, so don’t blame me!” Bets blasted at him, sick and tired of hearing him moaning for the last ten minutes.
“Offered, offered is that what you call it. I was forced into this?” Tom trailed behind her, as Bets strode through the hotel reception.
“Yes, like I was forced into dressing and making up a bunch of jumped-up models, and like I was forced into spending a nightmare evening with Des the prat, or like I was forced into spending a night in something reminiscent of the iceberg that sank the titanic, no, I didn’t think so Thomas!” Bets frowned as Tom looked petulantly at her.
He really was a spoilt brat at times, and Bets could see now why Charlotte used to press hot tea spoons on the back of his legs. So a sulky silence fell, and remained that way, while Tom helped Bets set up her display and demonstration area. He did perk up slightly when the bridal gown models arrived, flashing his most enigmatic smile as they wandered past.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“If you are hoping to catch a glimpse of the models, then you’d best get me a white wine from the bar? I think they all went in there.” Bets didn’t look at him.
“Okay, I won’t be long,” he called over his shoulder. The words were barely out of Bets' mouth before he started to make his way to the bar.
Tom had been gone for at least ten minutes, when the hotel manager came over. He was very handsome and about Bets age, and the feeling that he created in the pit of Bet’s stomach surprised her.
“Hello Miss Dobbs, I hope that you’ve got everything that you need.” He smiled warmly at Bets.
“Yes thank you. How many people are you expecting?” She licked her lips, and shook her hair back, her automatic flirting actions returning voluntarily.
“Ooh about fifty. If everything goes well we’re going to run a bigger all-day event in the summer months. Anyway, I must get on perhaps we could have a drink later; once it’s all over by way of celebration for a job well done.” He smiled again, this time placing a hand beneath her elbow; Bets shivered in delight.
“Definitely, I look forward to it.” At that moment Tom returned, shoving a glass in Bets face. “Oh hi Tom, Tom this is…” She glanced at the lapel badge on his jacket. “Michael, the hotel manager, Michael this is Tom my assistant.”
Tom opened his mouth to protest, but noticed the warning look on Bet’s face and thought better of it. “Nice to meet you Michael,” he said thrusting out a hand; Michael took it and pumped it up and down with strength.
“Nice to meet you Tom, I must say that you have a very charming beautiful lady boss there.” He turned to Bets. “Well we’ll meet later then, bye for now.”
Toms gasped in amazement. “Bloody hell, I’ve only been gone for a few minutes, and you’ve already sorted out your next conquest!” He handed Bets her drink, tutting loudly.
“So I take it you weren’t so lucky then?” Bets asked, caustically.
Tom, choosing to ignore her, preferred instead to look through the nail varnishes on display.
The makeover session went well, and Bets had got the salon three wedding day bookings and two pre wedding facials. All the time that Bets was doing the makeover on Julie, the volunteer bride, Michael the hotel manager stood close by; watching her every move. Bets was enjoying the attention, enjoying having a man’s eyes on her again. She began to feel excited about the possibilities to come. As she glanced at Michael, th
oughts of Stuart entered her head, and the usual dull ache came into her stomach. Bets shook her head. She couldn’t mourn him forever, but she didn’t know whether she was ready just yet to move on; perhaps Michael could be her guideline.
When it was Tom’s turn to sit in the chair Michael left to deal with a bride and groom who wished to book a reception in the hotel. Bets was disappointed, but she knew that he would be back.
“Right ladies and gentlemen, with the help of my ASSISTANT Tom, I’m going to show you how the groom can receive some pampering too. Tom if you’d like to take a seat.” Bets pointed to the chair where Tom was to sit.
She wasn’t asking, but was telling him. Tom sat down dutifully and waited for Bets to begin. She started by massaging Tom’s face; trying to smooth out the tension that he was obviously feeling at lying back wearing a towel around his shoulders and a sweat band on his head. The sweatband wasn’t truly necessary, Tom didn’t have an awful lot of hair to keep away from his face, but it looked stupid so Bets had rammed it hard onto his head. As she moved her fingers adeptly around his face, Bets realised what wonderful bone structure he had. He had classic high cheekbones and a strong, square chin, and those eyes. Boy would she love to make up eyes like those. She was halfway through, explaining how important it was for men to cleanse, tone and moisturise as well as women, when she started to be drowned out by a loud snorting noise coming from Tom. The gathered crowd started to giggle, looking down at the ground with embarrassment for Bets. She looked over the top of Tom’s head to find him fast asleep and snoring to his heart’s content.
“So now you can see exactly how relaxing this can be,” she joked.
The crowd relaxed and started to laugh louder, glad that Bets was now in on the joke. Bets laughed too but didn’t let them see her pinching Tom’s earlobe. Tom, startled, shot up from his reclined position, grabbing the arms on the chair.
“Wha’, where am I?” he gasped looking anxiously around the room. As he saw the crowd in front of him, he remembered where he was. He turned shame faced to Bets, pulling the sweat band from his head.
“I’m so sorry. I must have dozed off. God it was very relaxing, I didn’t realise what good fingers you had Bets.”
The brides and grooms laughed even louder now helping to broaden the smile on Tom’s face. Not one to miss out on an audience Tom lay back in the chair and closed his eyes tightly.
“Wake me up at seven, would you?” he whispered, getting himself comfy.
Bets tried not to smile, but she couldn’t help herself and looking sullen could alienate her prospective customers.
“Well as Tom is bedding down for the night, I think we should finish there, however, I’m sure you will all agree his skin is now absolutely glowing.” Not that there was much wrong with it before, she thought, as she began to move away towards her appointment book on a nearby table.
She thought that the response from the brides had been good, but she was totally blown away when twelve grooms and one father to the bride, booked in for facials at The Beauty Box. She flashed Tom a look that should have frightened him to death, but he just smiled brilliantly at her, his eyes flashing brightly. She smiled back and shook her head.
“Well they seemed to like that, didn’t they?” Tom said, once the crowd had dispersed.
“Yes, no thanks to you.” Bets thumped him on the arm, not gently.
“Successful evening?” a voice behind them asked. It was Michael who had escaped from the fashion show. Bets nodded. “Good, the hotel has done well too, so I think that drink is definitely called for, if that’s okay with you?”
“Sure that would be lovely,” Bets sighed, gazing deeply into his eyes.
Neither of them noticed Tom, who was standing next to Bets. “Excuse me Bets,” he coughed politely. “Should I start loading your car?” Bets nodded silently and fished the keys out of her pocket, all the time looking at Michael. “Thanks.” Tom took the keys and walked off to start dismantling Bets display.
After twenty minutes of going in and out of the cold, rainy evening, Tom went back to the couple, chatting animatedly. He could see from the look in Bets’ eyes that she was on the rampage again, but he knew that by tomorrow Michael would probably turn out to be totally unsuitable, and she would never want to see him again.
“Here are your key's Bets.” He dropped them into Bets' open hand as she paused in her conversation with Michael.
“Oh thanks Tom, and thanks again for tonight. Do you want a lift home?” she asked, somewhat cautiously.
“No,” he cried. “I’ve got a date at the pub down the road, so no thanks.”
“Okay, well see you soon then.”
Tom waved his good-byes as he walked out into the cold night air towards the bus stop to catch a bus home.
The next morning, Tom was proved right; Michael was deemed to be totally unsuitable. After having a drink with each other in the bar, Bets and Michael made their way to his room within the hotel. They had made polite conversation, the sort two people made before they were going to have sex; name, age and marital status and then they went to bed. The sex hadn’t been the best that Bets had ever had, but it was fun, and it was great to have some physical contact with someone else again. Bets had thought about Stuart briefly in the throes of passion, but it was a happy thought, not sad or guilty. She smiled with the memory of their time together and realised how lucky she had been. Bets and Michael had a good time, but now that morning was here they were both anxious to get away. The fact that Michael felt the same way as Bets peeved her a little at first, she was used to men wanting to spend the rest of their lives with her, but she soon snapped out of it; glad that there were no awkward excuses to be made. So they left each other on good terms, with a peck on the cheek and thanks for a good evening.
After a quick visit home to shower and check Alfred had been okay with Charlie, Bets went to the salon. She was surprised to see Charlotte there.
“Hiya, what are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at work?” She walked past Charlotte to check the time of her first appointment.
“I’m going in this afternoon. I'm working from home this morning, but seeing as I managed to get all my work done last night, I thought that I would visit you. Have you got time for a quick chat?” Charlotte looked worried about something, which in turn worried Bets.
“Sure, I haven’t got an appointment for half an hour.” Bets walked into her beauty room and flung the door open. “I won’t be a minute I just need to check that the girls are okay.” And apologise for being late, she failed to add.
After a few minutes, Bets returned to find Charlotte pacing up and down. “What’s the matter?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “It’s not Kerry is it?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, it’s me. I promised myself that I wasn’t going to say anything, in case I tempted fate, but I can’t hold out much longer.” She attempted a smile, but her eyes were watery and her mouth simply turned up at the ends.
“Well go on,” Bets urged.
“I met Niall for lunch on Tuesday, and he’s going to finish his relationship with his fiancée and we are going to see how things go between us,” she gushed, without pausing for breath.
“Oh my God!” Bets cried. “Did you sleep with him?”
“Bets, is that all you think of? If you must know, no I didn’t. It was hard not to though, we went back to his cottage to talk. Apparently, I’ve battered his head, and he can’t stop thinking about me.”
Bets shrieked so shrilly that Charlotte feared for all the mirrors in the salon.
“Oh Charlotte, that’s fantastic, so what are you going to do, when is he going to tell her?” Bets asked, pulling Charlotte onto a chair next to her.
“I don’t know to both questions. I just hope that he tells her soon. I said I didn’t want to have any contact with him, until it was over, but not seeing him, or speaking to him...well it is driving me mad.”
Bets placed a hand on Charlotte�
��s knee. “Give him chance Charlotte, don’t forget he works for her company as well as being her fiancé. It's a big thing that he’s about to do. He can’t just go in there and say, “Oh, by the way, Ingrid. I'm leaving you, because I fancy the hell out of the woman we’ve done millions of pounds worth of business with.””
Charlotte sighed deeply and nodded her head. She knew that Bets was right, but it didn’t stop her having a bad feeling about it all. She had been sure that Niall would have at least telephoned her to say hello, but she had heard nothing at all.
“I know what you are saying Bets, but a quick “hello, how are you?” would have been nice. Do you think it’s because I wouldn’t let him kiss me, perhaps he’s changed his mind and thinks that I’m frigid?”
Bets stared at her open mouthed. “What, not even a little snog?”
Charlotte shook her head. “I didn’t want to risk falling into bed with him. It wouldn’t have been right, what with him having a fiancée.”
“Exactly, he’s the one with the fiancée, so why should you worry? He won’t think that you are frigid you daft bint, what about Christmas? From what you told me, you needed a bucket of water throwing over the pair of you to dampen your ardour. No I’m sure that he understands your reasons. If he doesn’t, he isn’t worth it anyway. Be patient, he will be in touch when he can, give it until the end of the week, and if he hasn’t called you could ring him on some business pretext.”
Charlotte nodded and started to chew her thumb nail; Bets slapped her hand away from her mouth, startling Charlotte. “Oww, that hurt, but maybe you’re right. He did say to give him until the end of the week.”
“There you go then, but Charlotte my God, fancy him feeling like that about you. How do you feel about it all? I mean after enduring a miserable Christmas because of him?”
The smile said it all. “Bets I’m so happy, Christmas seems a long time ago now. I hope that it all works out. You know despite that gruff exterior, he really is sweet, and so incredibly sexy. I just can’t wait for us to be together.”