by Emma Baird
By the time Thanksgiving came around, he found himself at the office once more. The current marketing head had come up with a bright idea for Black Friday at the last minute and he’d volunteered to work, one eye on his boss’s job, the other on escaping the chaos at Courtney’s house. The sale was due to start at the stroke of midnight on Thursday night/Friday morning, and he was still putting the finishing touches to the social media ads at eleven that night. Blissful Beauty's offices weren’t deserted but the whole area was spookily quiet—the usual traffic and siren noise dialled down.
“All work and no play...”
“Caitlin! What are you doing here?”
She looked stunning—cut-off shorts, the top button open and tanned, taut abs on show. Her hair rippled down her back and the crop top hugged the plastic-surgery tennis-ball shape of her breasts. Ironically, she didn’t seem to be wearing make-up and her olive-tinted skin glowed.
“My family,” she said, allowing her shoulders to express whatever those two words really meant. Disdain, frustration, something. “I still haven’t told them about... you know.”
She started Dexter’s treadmill—Blissful Beauty being the kind of company that encouraged employees to keep gym equipment in their offices, all the better to keep them in there for obscenely long periods of time—and hopped on. The movement made her quads ripple. Caitlin was tiny but perfectly in proportion, so her legs looked long.
“If I tell them, that’s it,” she said. “My mom will see it as perfect for the TV—the ‘Caitlin brings her new boyfriend home and introduces them to the family’ episode.”
She smiled at him. “Even if they have already met him when he came for Thanksgiving two years ago.”
Dexter smiled back. “There you go.”
“I have thought about it, though. I’m gonna tell the world in my book. D’you think that is okay—the final chapter, ‘Caitlin Finds Love’? I thought people might find it interesting. I’m just like anyone my age. Insecure, worried that guys only like me because I’m super-rich.”
Not really, Dexter thought, but he found her admission touching. And, like him, Caitlin didn’t have positive role models for how relationships should work. Her mother and step-father were about to divorce, her oldest sister was on her third marriage and the second one was splitting up yet again from the Twitter meltdown guy.
“Of course. That’ll be the reason everyone buys it.”
She stopped the treadmill and flew into his arms.
“Dexie—you are the greatest, I mean the greatest. When was the last time I told you I loved you because whenever it was, it was too long ago. I love you. Times a billion.”
CHAPTER 24
The early morning’s rain and dark clouds had given way to icy-blue skies and bright sunlight by the time Katya let herself out of the flat the next morning. By ten in the morning the loch, its colour changing constantly according to the weather, reflected the pale blue of the sky. And miraculously, the wind failed to make its presence known. The loch’s surface barely flickered—the reflection of the surrounding hills in the water crystal clear.
The Royal George was covered in scaffolding as small teams of men carried out lichen removal and gutter clearing. The improvement was striking. No one in the village had mentioned the hotel and what was going on but the work must now be obvious to everyone. Lois and Angeline’s huge silver Land Rover was already in the car park, despite Zac’s house being a mere 500 metres away.
The hotel’s front door—a grand, thick wooden structure complete with a huge cast-iron knocker—swung open. Zac, phone held at his ear, cut off the conversation as soon as he spotted her, frown changing to delight in double-quick time. He wore a dark green puffa jacket branded with the Hammerstone Hotel’s HH logo picked out in gold lettering, the tag line Luxury Lifestyle and Leisure. Naturally, it matched his blonde hair and blue eyes perfectly.
“Hey!” He took her hand. “I want you to see this. Come on.”
He steered Katya towards the side of the hotel, bolting when Lois’s cry of “Zac!” rang out behind them and forcing Katya into a run. When he halted behind a large beech tree out of the line of sight of anyone in the car park, she bumped into his back and the two of them dissolved into giggles.
“Are you skiving?”
“No. They’ve been on my back all morning. If I don’t escape now, I’ll throw them both in the loch.”
Katya shuddered. At this time of year, she reckoned they’d last ten seconds before hypothermia set in. As it was, she’d put on a vest, thick sweater, padded coat, scarf and gloves this morning, her blonde hair tucked neatly under a wool beanie. Even so, Zac’s body heat penetrated the layers. If she asked him now about his marriage and he decided to tell her all, pressed tightly against her and whispering the words into her ear, Katya would not complain.
“Look!” he pointed at something behind her ear.
Parked at the side of the hotel was the burger van he’d shown her on eBay. It was barely recognisable. The original version—a battered ancient vehicle that had toured industrial sites in Glasgow punting grease-laden bacon butties and cheeseburgers to workers in industrial estates—had been transformed into something street-food hip. Alloy sides gleamed, signs for Zac’s Fabulous Fish and Food decorated each side and the front window opened out onto a flat serving area. A chalked-up slate outside the serving window listed the dishes on offer and their prices. In front of the van, four tables and chairs offered customers a lochside view.
“Take a seat,” he said, leading her towards it. “I’ll get you something hot to drink. You won’t freeze, I promise.”
To back up his words, he took a heater out of the van and switched it on. It blasted out waves of hot air—doing dreadful damage to the environment no doubt—but Katya’s scarf, hat, gloves and thick coat did the bulk of the warming-up work.
She eyed the van cautiously. An online food business, a hotel offering specialist mini breaks AND a van with minimal overheads. Despite the promise of no harm, did Hammerstone Hotels intend to take over the entire village?
Zac placed two mugs of steaming hot chocolate on the table, promised her it had been made without milk and sat down in the chair opposite, his legs spread wide in that universal male entitlement to space that always irritated Katya.
“Drink your chocolate before it cools,” he said, raising his own mug in a toast to her. He must have used almond milk, as the chocolate tasted smooth and creamy, top notes of vanilla offset by nuttiness and...
“Is there booze in this?” She set the mug down, pushing it towards him.
He shoved it back. “A bit of brandy. It’s a chalet thing. No one in Switzerland would dream of making hot chocolate without a heft—I mean, tiny drop of the hard stuff.”
Good grief, the stuff was lethal. But ever so warming at the same time. Every molten drop of it slid down her throat, spreading warmth, well-being and willingness for anything. On an empty stomach, though? Katya, a habitual breakfast skipper, felt her head float off the top of her body, her thoughts so wild and scattered even a loch dip where she and Zac ran naked into its freezing waters suddenly seemed do-able. Desirable, even.
Jeez. How much brandy had he put in that mug? Still, if alcohol lowered inhibitions, it was time to ask direct questions, such as the one Jack suggested. Hang on a minute, though—he’d mentioned Switzerland. The playground of the rich and famous. That figured.
“Don’t tell me. You spent a gap year or two in Switzerland?”
A half-smile flitted across his face. “That would fit with what you think of me, huh? Not quite.”
The floodgates opened. Brought up the only child of two high achievers—father a top journalist later college lecturer, mother a doctor stroke heiress, there was only ever one way for Zac to go. To the top. As far as the upper-middle classes were concerned, doctors, professors, lawyers, politicians, industry leaders and university professors were the only respectable professions. Zac, despite his general-knowledge prowess, couldn’t m
anage exams. He left school with minimal qualifications and headed for Switzerland to work in chalets. Then, he’d embarked on business idea after business idea with his—
Unable to wait any longer, she butted in. “Zac. Are you married?”
Blue eyes rounded and widened once more, and his hand lifted to rake through his hair. The movement wafted the scent of his shampoo in her direction—something pine, lemony and masculine.
“You’re ahead of me.”
“Fine. You have thirty seconds to convince me you’re not a serial liar and a two-timing cad to boot.”
The more she sipped of the chocolate, the less she noticed the burn of alcohol at the back of the throat. Sitting lochside on a cold winter’s morning, the skies icy blue but clear and the only sound muffled building work and the call of birds on the loch, was gloriously peaceful. And Zac’s words were so soothing, the way he kept his eyes on her face the whole time, the earnest entreaty there...
“I’m separated.”
Praise be.
“Have been so for six months—minimal baggage, I promise. That’s partly why I’m up here. I wanted a new start.”
“Why did you split up?” She stopped herself before she threw in the word ‘cheating’. Maybe Zac’s wife had been the unfaithful one.
He blinked and then sighed. “Never get hitched just to piss off your mater and pater. It counts as one of the worst reasons in the world. They didn’t come to the wedding, predicted it wouldn’t last and they were right. Natasha and I fancied each other like mad, but once that wore off we had nothing in common.”
So, the confident smiles in the wedding photographs she’d seen online. Not as care-free and happy as they made out.
“And don’t marry someone you then make your business partner,” he added. “Especially the last. That works out expensive in the long run.”
Definite bitterness—words that belied his promise of minimal baggage. Still, it rang of the truth.
“How old were you when you got married?” she asked, keeping her eyes on his.
“Twenty. I know, no one gets married that young these days.”
Too right they didn’t, unless they belonged to weird religious cults. Katya conjured up her twenty-year-old self, at the time obsessed with a lecturer on her course and doing everything she could to engineer meetings with him. She hadn’t considered herself grown-up enough to leave home, let alone embark on a life partnership.
“I met Natasha in Switzerland while we were both working in the chalets.” He lifted his mug of hot chocolate and sipped it. “When they show it in films, it looks fun. A bit of cooking, tidying up and skiing in your free time. Spoiler alert. Chalet work isn’t like that. We put in 70 to 80-hour weeks, and when we collapsed into bed at night, we fantasised about escaping. I suggested getting married, and she said, ‘Let’s go into business together.’ I was infatuated. We both were—probably too tired to think straight.”
“And now there are no more surprises left?” Katya asked. “Because so far, you haven’t been upfront with me and call me old-fashioned but I like honesty in a person.”
He ran his hand through his hair again. “Fair point. Though I never lied outright, did I?”
No. Lies through omission instead. Just as she occasionally did. Still, she could tell how much that business failure rankled. Did the collapse of his marriage cause the same pain? And didn’t men feel failure in a different way—toxic masculinity and its strict rules that men must succeed in everything they did?
She put her mug down. Cold, an empty stomach and a booze-laden hot drink made a potent combination. “Can I have something to eat?” she said. “This stuff is... awfully strong.”
“I was hoping you’d ask!”
The too-heady hot chocolate didn’t seem to have bothered him. He leapt to his feet—legs steady, movements assured—and clambered into the van, leaving the back door open so he could continue to talk to her. She heard things being switched on, the clattering of pots and pans and the swoosh of gas as rings were fired up.
“The thing is... I want you to try something that’s not vegan.”
The one hundred percent of Katya who believed in sticking to one’s principles said, ‘no thank you’. But brandy overrode everything, firing up hunger and greed. She held back the ‘feed me whatever it is NOW’ demand but only just.
“What is it?”
“A venison burger—locally sourced, ethically killed. The deer in this part of the world have a fantastic life and you’re doing the environment a favour eating them. They destroy the forestry unless they are culled. Come and see what I’ve made.”
“Okay, but only if you are prepared for an honest, possibly even blistering review.”
The World Wildlife Fund was going to need a substantial donation in carnivore offsetting. In her head, she promised them money she would add to their fundraising efforts that evening.
Whatever the brandy had done hadn’t affected her movements. She stood up and sent prayers to whoever when she stayed steady and upright climbing the steps into the burger van. Inside, the shiny, clean chrome echoed the feel of the outside. The hob sat alongside a griddle while fridges and cupboards lined the space at the back.
“Wow,” she said, peeling off her coat. “It’s warm in here.”
The griddle was turned full on, its all-encompassing heat batting back the cold air that tried to creep in the back door. That and the brandy-helped insular central heating forced Katya to take her coat off. Tipsy on brandy, she flung it out the back door. It sailed past the table and chairs and drifted down to a graceful halt just before the beech tree. Off came the gloves, the hat and scarf, similarly discarded.
Zac, whose attention had been glued on the burgers frying on the griddle, turned to her and widened his eyes.
“Don’t stop now! If you want to do the full stripper thing, I’ll whack the heating up even higher.”
Katya pirouetted—a movement tricky in a confined space. The brandy-heated stomach was now in charge, making her do very stupid things.
“No, no, it’s not your lucky day. But hurry up with those burgers.”
He prodded the one in front of him and swivelled so he could see her side-on.
“Coming up. I promise this is worth breaking your principles for.”
He was right. The burger he presented seconds later with an ironic bow was sandwiched between a soft white bun and garnished with fried onions and a thin layer of mayonnaise. Her mouth took in the second heavenly Zac creation of the day. It tiptoed then stamped flavour on her tongue. Katya hadn’t eaten meat in years. Principles took a person so far, but tofu, Quorn and seitan could never match the iron-rich taste and the way meat made the molars work.
“I hate it. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted,” she said, jamming the last too-big bit of it into her mouth.
At that, he wrapped his arms around her, grinning as he watched her chew furiously. When she swallowed the last piece of the burger, all super-smooth mayonnaise, sugar-sweet onions and the long savoury linger of caramelised red meat, he leant forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.
“Do that again. It’s the horniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The proof was there. Pressed this close against him, he did not need to tell her how horny he found it. Katya wriggled closer. She brushed her lips against his. The encouragement spurred him on. She found herself pressed up against back of the van as lips and hands explored, tentative at first and then bolder. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it up so she could run her hands over his back. The air crackled and they were just in the process of finding out what you could manage in such a confined space when a flash went off.
“There you are!” Lois exclaimed, the man at her side rapidly shooting a dozen more pics. Katya willed him to stop. A gob-smacked expression suited no one.
She held a hand out, obscuring her face. “Did I agree to photos?”
The photographer lowered his camera and heaved his shoulders to his ears. Lois beamed
. “Didn’t Zac tell you? We’re here this morning to take some publicity pictures. Would you mind awfully being in them? You could pretend to be a punter, leaning into the van to try some of Zac’s delicious food. It’s marvellously good, isn’t it?”
She sounded too knowing—as if she might have witnessed Katya’s undignified burger consumption.
“I...”
“I thought we’d got all the pictures you needed?” Zac said, glaring at Lois.
“A picture of someone eating your food will make them much more exciting.”
He turned to face Katya and rolled his eyes apologetically. “Please, Katya—would you mind? If you are in the pictures, they will be amazing.”
He was careful to make it sound factual, rather than praise. The photographer broke off from fiddling with his lenses and nodded earnestly too.
“If I must. But I’m not going outside the van. It’s far too cold.” Now Zac no longer had his arms around her, Katya shivered.
“Terrific!” Lois said, and the photographer started snapping once more. He told Zac to fry more burgers while Katya looked on. She wasn’t sure what her role was meant to be. Zac’s assistant? When Zac slapped the second burger into another bun and handed it to her she got it. Zac meant her to re-enact the earlier ecstasy. It felt like being on the set of a porn film, the camera snapping away intrusively as she faked a reaction.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he muttered under his breath, dropping the ‘for show’ smile for a second. “Just pretend this burger is the best thing you’ve ever eaten.”
Oh, what harm could it do? Katya shut her eyes and opened her mouth. He let the burger rest there as the camera clicked furiously. It was so ridiculous she couldn’t help the ginormous grin that lit up her features when she opened her eyes once more.
“Bravo!” Lois exclaimed. “That’s our shot of the day, right, Neil?”
Neil gave Katya a far too knowing wink.
The unfamiliar food and the brandy gurgled in her belly ominously. She had to get out of there before something dreadful happened, and all that food reappeared. Time to leave.