Книга - The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises

The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises
Kellie Hailes


Curl up in The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises with a latte and a scone, the perfect antidote to a grey day!Mel’s dream of opening a coffee shop is finally a reality! A cosy little place turning out the best flat whites and most delicious pastries in Devon. In the picture-perfect town of Rabbit’s Leap no one can stand in her way – especially local pub owner, Tony. She doesn't care how gorgeous he is, she will not let him steal her customers with his fancy new coffee machine!There is only room in their small town for one coffee shop…but when Hurricane Val – aka her mother – is due to blow into town, Mel is in desperate need of an instant boyfriend. She can’t face another hunt to 'find a man' and while Tony may be her business rival, Mel can’t help but notice he’d make the perfect fake fiancé…If they can strike a deal all they need to do is stick to it, no falling in love, no real feelings and definitely no dreams of a happy-ever-after!







Curl up in The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises with a latte and a scone, the perfect antidote to a grey day!

Mel’s dream of opening a coffee shop is finally a reality! A cosy little place turning out the best flat whites and most delicious pastries in Devon. In the picture-perfect town of Rabbit’s Leap no one can stand in her way – especially local pub owner, Tony. She doesn't care how gorgeous he is, she will not let him steal her customers with his fancy new coffee machine!

There is only room in their small town for one coffee shop…but when Hurricane Val - aka her mother - is due to blow into town, Mel is in desperate need of an instant boyfriend. She can’t face another hunt to 'find a man' and while Tony may be her business rival, Mel can’t help but notice he’d make the perfect fake fiancé…

If they can strike a deal all they need to do is stick to it, no falling in love, no real feelings and definitely no dreams of a happy-ever-after!


The Cosy Coffee Shop of Promises

Kellie Hailes






ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES


At the age of five KELLIE HAILES declared she was going write books when she grew up. It took a while for her to get there, with a career as a radio copywriter, freelance copywriter and web writer filling the dream-hole, until now. Kellie lives on an island-that’s-not-really-an-island in New Zealand with her patient husband, funny little human and neurotic cat. When the characters in her head aren’t dictating their story to her, she can be found taking short walks, eating good cheese and jonesing for her next coffee fix.


To my husband. From the day I came home and told you I was going to write romance novels you never once doubted me. Thank you for sitting opposite me every morning at our local cafe while I banged out words and drank my flat white. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to chase my dreams. Thank you for being you.

To Louisa George. I thought I’d struck gold when you agreed to be my mentor. Gold? More like diamonds. Thank you for pushing and supporting me. As a mentor and a friend, you’re a gem.

To Susie Frame. Thank you for your thoughtful advice, support and friendship. Oh, and the comma policing. Best critique partner, ever.

To Chris and Peter Hailes, Laura Hancox, Natalie Gillespie and Wendi Lane for putting up with my endless questions and never failing to come through with an answer.

To my amazing editor, Victoria Oundjian. Thank you for giving my characters a chance to see the light of day. Thank you for making my dream come true.


For Aaron, who always believed in me.


Contents

Cover (#ua4ceb7b4-f0de-5802-b120-d1f5ac409bda)

Blurb (#u5eae4aa0-0d93-50ad-840c-39e3d1475723)

Title Page (#u7325857e-4b22-578d-b623-63d0d654decd)

Author Bio (#u45b546a7-3b4f-563d-9ef7-c17dc25f7d79)

Acknowledgements (#u0336d5e7-ecee-56ed-a855-d9d7096cd275)

Dedication (#u37244543-2063-5773-a877-bf7c6e63b432)

Chapter One (#ulink_54774540-7b7b-5f48-92b1-a71ff0e10013)

Chapter Two (#ulink_b06b63ad-4e65-526c-8b1e-55b9dbc74506)

Chapter Three (#ulink_893a3f31-c9e6-5abf-9d04-4fc346e560c8)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_9b3d39c4-7cbe-5f8f-bf6e-a5d9d1b787b1)

‘Wine. Now. And don’t get mouthy with me.’

Mel watched Tony’s sea-blue eyes light up as his lips parted slightly…

‘What’s got your knick…’

‘I’m serious,’ she cut in, before he had a chance to be the second person to grind her gears that day. ‘I’m in no mood for your cheek. And I can tell by that twitchy jaw of yours that you’re contemplating still trying to give me some.’ Mel took off her navy peacoat and shuddered as wintry air wrapped its way around her thin form. She promptly buttoned up again and tugged her scarf tighter around her neck. ‘All I want from you is for you to do your job, pour me a glass of pinot gris and leave me to drink it, alone, and in peace. And why is it so cold in here? It’s freezing out. It shouldn’t be freezing in.’ She shook her head. ‘No matter. I don’t care. The wine will warm me up.’

‘Bu…’

‘No. No buts. No whys. No questions.’ She pointed to the glass-doored fridge. ‘Just get the bottle, get a glass, and pour.’ Mel gave Tony her best glare, hoping to get past his notoriously thick skin.

She watched the muscles in his jaw continue to work, as if debating whether to ignore her order to be left in peace or do that clichéd ‘had a bad day, tell me about it’ barman patter. Sensibility must have won, because he turned and bent over to grab a bottle of pinot gris from the chiller, giving her a fantastic view of his toned and rounded rear. A view she’d usually take a moment to appreciate, but not right now, not after the unexpected, and not in a good way, phone call she’d just received from her mother.

Tony sloshed the wine into a tired-looking, age-speckled glass, pushed it in her direction, then punched at the card machine. ‘Here you go,’ he said, proffering the handset.

Mel squinted at the numbers on the screen. ‘Tony, um, that’s not right. You’ve overcharged me.’

‘No, that’s the price.’ Tony nodded, but kept his eyes firmly on the bar. ‘Since the beginning of this week.’

‘Really? You can’t tell me a bottle of wine rose in price by almost double in the space of seven days?’

‘You’re right, it hasn’t.’ He glanced up. ‘But the hole in my muffler is yelling at me to put the prices up. And I haven’t in years, so...’

‘Oh. Okay. Sorry.’ Mel handed over her bank card, embarrassed to have questioned the price rise. She’d heard the village gossip. Tony’s business wasn’t doing so well. Apparently hadn’t been for years, but had got worse since his dad passed away the year before. Not that she knew much about that. She’d been new to town, and didn’t want to get a reputation as a gossip, so had only heard the odd conversation here and there over the coffee cups in her café, nothing more.

‘So, are you going to just stare into that glass of wine or are you going to drink it? Because I don’t have a funnel to pour it back into the bottle. Although reselling it would make my mechanic happier faster. And if you buy two glasses I might even be able to afford to put the heating on.’

Mel shot Tony a grateful smile. Despite his infamous reputation as a ladies’ man, he was also known about the small farming town of Rabbits Leap as being something of a gentleman and had quite the knack of making you feel at ease, which, considering her current heightened state of irritation, was quite a feat.

‘You’re still not taking a sip, or a slug. And, well, it sounds like you needed a slug.’

Mel narrowed her eyes at Tony, hoping to scare him into shutting up with a stern look. ‘What did I say about getting mouthy? And teasing for that matter?’

‘I’m not teasing. You look pale. Paler than usual, and you know you’re pretty pale, so you’re almost translucent right now. Even the bright streaks of pink in your hair are looking a little less hot.’

‘You pay attention to my hair colour?’ Mel’s hand unconsciously went to her hair and tucked a stray lock behind her ears. Tony looked at her hair? Since when? She’d always assumed he’d seen her as nothing more than a regular customer, a friendly acquaintance, not someone to take notice of. Sure, they got along well enough, would chat for a moment or two if they passed each other on the street, or if it was quiet in the pub, but that was the extent of their relationship.

‘Well, you’re about the most exciting thing to happen in this place for the last ten years…’

‘Me? Exciting?’ A tingle of pleasure stirred within her.

Tony winked and turned that tingle into a zing. Since her last boyfriend, the local vet, had taken off to care for animals overseas, Mel hadn’t had any action, let alone a compliment, from a man. And apparently, if that unexpected zing frenzy that had zipped through her body was anything to go by, she’d been craving it.

‘Yeah, exciting.’ Tony’s glance lingered on her face, as if drinking her in. ‘And pretty, too.’

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to the words of approval. She picked up her glass and took the suggested slug. She was being stupid. Tony wasn’t calling her exciting, just her hair. And the only reason he was calling her pretty was because that’s what he did; he called women pretty, he charmed them, he took them to bed, and that was that. And she’d had enough of her love life – heck, her life in general – ending with ‘that was that’ to be interested in someone who’d pretty much created the phrase.

‘Feel better?’ His eyes, usually dancing with humour, were crinkled at the corners with concern.

‘Not really.’

‘Have another slug.’

As she lifted the glass she glanced around the bar, taking in the bar leaners with their tired, ring-stained, laminated tops and obsolete ashtrays in their centres. The tall stools next to them looked rickety from decades of propping up farmers, the pool table needed a resurface, and as for the dartboard… it was covered in so many tiny pin holes it was amazing a dart could stay wedged in it. The village chatter was right, Tony was doing it tough…

Her eyes fell on a machine sitting at the far end of the bar. All shiny and silvery and gleaming with newness. That shouldn’t be there.

Her blood heated up, and not in an ‘oh swoon, a man just complimented me’ kind of way.

‘What is that?’ Mel seethed through gritted teeth.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. What was he thinking? Did he have it in for her, too? Was it ‘Let’s Piss Off Mel Day’? She’d moved to Rabbits Leap just over a year ago to try and create a sense of security for herself. A place she could settle down in, call home, maybe even meet a nice, normal guy she could fall in love with. And in one day what little security she’d carefully built was in danger of being blown apart. First her mother calling to tell her she was coming to town and bringing her special brand of crazy with her, and now this?

‘What’s what?’ The crinkles of concern further deepened.

‘That.’ She pointed to the cause of her ire.

‘The coffee machine?’

‘Yeah, the coffee machine. The coffee machine that should not be in your bar, because I have a coffee machine. In my café. The only café in the village. You remember that? The one place a person can get a good cup of coffee? The place that just happens to be my livelihood, and you want to screw with it?’

Tony took a step back as if he’d been hit with a barrage of arrows. Good. His eyebrows gathered in a frown. But he didn’t look sorry. Why didn’t he look sorry? And why had he straightened up and stopped looking stricken?

‘It’s just business, Mel.’

‘And it’s just a small village, Tony.’

She looked at her wine and considered throwing the contents of it over him, then remembered how much it had cost. Taking the glass she brought it to her mouth and tipped it back, swallowing the lot in one long gulp.

She set the glass back on the bar, gently, so he wouldn’t see how shaken she was. ‘There’s only enough room in this village for one coffee machine.’ She mentally slapped herself as the words came out with a wobble, not as the threat she’d intended.

‘And what does that mean?’ Tony folded his arms and leant in towards her, his eyebrow raised.

Mel gulped. He wanted her to throw down the gauntlet? Fine then. ‘It means you can try to make coffee. You can spend hours trying to get it right, make thousands of cups, whatever. But your coffee will never be as good as mine and all you’ll have is a big hunk of expensive metal sitting unloved at the end of your bar.’

‘Sounds like you’re challenging me to a coffee-off.’

How could Tony be so cavalier? So unfazed by the truth? He’d spent a ton of money on something he’d only end up regretting.

Mel took a deep breath, picked up her wallet and walked to the door. She spun round to face her adversary.

‘There’s no challenge here. All you’re good for is pulling a pint or three. Coffee? That’s for the adults. You leave coffee to me.’

She leant into the old pub door, pushed it with all her might and lurched over the threshold into the watery, late-winter sun and shivered. Could today get any worse?

***

Had he done the wrong thing? Was buying that ridiculous monstrosity and installing it in the pub a stupid idea? He’d spent the last decent chunk of money he had to get it. What if it didn’t fly? What would happen next? He couldn’t keep the place open on the smell of a beer-soaked carpet, but he couldn’t fail either. It was all he had left to remind him of his family. The Bullion had been his dad’s baby. The one thing that had kept his dad sane after his mother had passed away. More than that, it was where what few solid memories he had of his mother were. Her smiling at him as he sat at the kitchen table munching on a biscuit while she cooked in the pub’s kitchen. The violet scent of her perfume as she’d pulled his four-year-old self into a cuddle after he’d fallen from a bar stool while on an ambitious mountaineering expedition.

Then there was the promise he’d made to his father, the final words they’d shared as his father breathed his last. His vow to preserve The Bullion’s history, to keep her alive. Dread tugged at his heart. What if he couldn’t keep that promise?

God, why couldn’t his father have been more open, more honest with him about their financial situation? Why couldn’t he have put away his pride for one second and seen a bank manager, cap in hand, asked for a… Tony shoved the idea away. No. That wasn’t an option. Not then. Not now. The McArthurs don’t ask for help. That was his dad’s number-one rule. A rule his father had also drilled into him. No, he wasn’t going cap in hand to a bank manager. He didn’t even own a cap, anyway. He just had to come up with some new ideas to breathe life into the old girl. The coffee machine had been one of them, and he’d spent the last of his personal savings buying it.

But what if Mel was right? What if he couldn’t make a good coffee? Heck, what if she stole into the pub in the middle of the night and tampered with it so he couldn’t?

Tony shook his head. The potential for poverty was turning him paranoid. Besides, the coffee machine was a great idea. Lorry drivers were always stopping in looking for a late-night cup, and who knew? Maybe the locals would like a cup of herbal tea or something before heading home after a big night.

Buy herbal tea. He added the item to his mental grocery list, along with bread, bananas and milk. Maybe he’d see if there was any of that new-age herbal tea stuff that made you sleep. Normally he’d do what his dad had always done and have a cup of hot milk with a dash of malt to send him off. But lately it hadn’t done the trick and he’d spent more hours tossing and turning than he had actually sleeping, his mind ticking over with mounting bills, mounting problems and not a hell of a lot of solutions. Heck, he was so bone-tired he wasn’t even all that interested in girls. Maybe that was the problem? Maybe he needed to tire himself out …

‘Hey, baby brother!’

‘Might be. But I’m still taller than you.’ Tony grinned at his sister and two nephews as they piled into the pub. ‘How you doing, you little scallywags?’

‘Scallywags?!’

Tony laughed as the boys feigned insult and horror in perfect unison.

‘You heard me. Now come and give your old uncle a hug.’

The boys flew at him, nearly knocking him over as they hurled themselves into his outstretched arms. He drew them in and held them, breathing in the heady mix of mud and cinnamon scent that he was pretty sure they’d been born with.

‘Have we cuddled you long enough? Can we have a lemonade now?’ Tyler peered up at him with a hopeful eye.

‘And a bag of crisps?’ asked Jordan, his voice filled with anticipation, and just a hint of cheek.

‘Each?’ They pleaded in perfect unison.

Two peas in a pod those boys were. And the loves of Jody’s life. Since the day she’d found out she’d fallen pregnant to a man she’d met during a shift at the pub, a random, a one-nighter, she’d sworn off all men until the boys were old enough to fend for themselves.

Tony watched as the boys grabbed a bag of crisps each and poured two glasses of lemonade and wondered at what point Jody would decide they were old enough, because at nine they looked pretty well sorted, and he was pretty sure he spotted flashes of loneliness in her eyes when she saw couples holding hands over the bar’s leaners.

‘So what’s with the shiny new toy?’ Jody jerked her head down towards the end of the bar.

‘It’s what’s going to save this place.’

Jody snorted and took a sip of Tyler’s lemonade, ignoring his wail of displeasure. ‘It’s going to take a whole lot more than coffee to save this dump.’

Tony bristled. Just because this place wasn’t the love of her life it didn’t mean it wasn’t the love of his, and just as she wouldn’t hear a bad word said about her boys, he didn’t like a bad word said…

‘And don’t get all grumpy on me, Tony McArthur. I know you love this joint, but it needs more than one person running it. You need to …’

‘If you say settle down, I’ll turn the soda dispenser on you.’

‘Oooh, soda water, colour me scared.’

‘Not soda, dear sister. Raspberry fizzy. Sweet, sticky and staining.’

Jody stuck her tongue out. ‘But you should, you know, settle down. It’ll do you good having a partner in crime.’

‘You’re one to talk.’

‘I’m well settled down and I’ve got two partners in crime, right, boys?’

Tony laughed again as the boys rolled their eyes, then took off upstairs to his quarters where his old gaming console lay gathering dust.

‘Besides, you’re only going to piss off the café girl with that machine in here. You’re treading on her turf, and frankly it’s not a particularly gentlemanly thing to do.’

Heat washed over Tony’s face. Even though he had a reputation for liking the ladies he always tried to treat them well. But that was pleasure, and this was business. Not just business, it was life and death. Actually, it was livelihood or death. And he intended to keep on kicking for as long as possible. Without the bar he was nothing. No one.

‘Well, I can see by the flaming shame on your face that she’s seen it.’

‘Yep,’ he sighed. The more he looked at the hunk of metal the worse he felt about what he’d done. There was an unspoken rule among the business people of Rabbits Leap that they didn’t poach customers. It was akin to stealing. Yet he’d done just that in a bid to save The Bullion. What was worse, he’d done it to a member of the community he actually respected and always had time for.

‘Tony, you’ve got to apologise, and then take the machine back. Do something. It’s a small town and the last thing you need is to be bad-mouthed or to lose customers. Find a way to make it work.’

***

Ting-a-ling.

Mel looked up from arranging a fresh batch of scones on a rose-printed vintage cake stand to see who’d walked in, her customer-ready smile fading as she saw her tall, broad-shouldered, blond, wavy-haired nemesis.

‘Get out.’ Her words were cool and calm, the opposite of the fire burning in her veins, in her heart. No one was taking away her café, her chance at a stable life, especially not a pretty boy who was used to getting what he wanted with a smile and a wink.

‘Is that any way to treat a customer?’

‘You’re not a customer. You never have been. I’ve not seen you step foot in here since I opened up – not once.’ Mel pointed to the door. ‘So get out.’

‘Well, maybe it’s time I decided to change that. And besides…’

She watched Tony take in the quiet café. Empty, bar her two regulars, Mr Muir and Mrs Wellbelove, who were enjoying their cups of tea and crosswords in separate silence.

‘…It looks like you need the business.’

Mel rankled at the words as they hit home. She’d hoped setting up in Rabbits Leap would be a good, solid investment, that it would give her security. But that ‘security’ was looking as tenuous as her bank balance. The locals weren’t joking when they said it was ‘the town that tourism forgot’. In summer the odd tourist ambled through, lost, on their way to Torquay. But, on seeing there was nothing more than farms and hills, they quickly ambled out again. As for winter? You could’ve lain down all day in the middle of the street without threat of being run over. And this winter had been worse, what with farmers shutting up shop due to milk prices falling even further.

‘Really? I need the business?’ She raised an eyebrow, hoping the small act of defiance would annoy him as much as he’d annoyed her. ‘I’m not the one putting prices up. Unlike someone else standing before me...’

Tony threw his hands up in the air as if warding the words off.

Good, she’d got to him.

‘Look, Mel, I’m not here to fight.’

‘Then what are you here for?’

‘Coffee. A flat white. And a scone. They look good.’

‘They are good.’

‘Then I’ll take one.’ Tony rubbed his chin. ‘Actually, make that two.’

Mel faked ringing up the purchase on the vintage cash register she’d found after scouring auction sites for weeks and weeks. ‘That’ll be on the house.’

‘That’s a bit cheap, isn’t it?’ Tony’s lips lifted in a half-smile.

‘It’s on me. A man desperate enough to install a coffee machine in a pub clearly needs a bit of charity.’ Yes, Tony was trying to take business away from her, but really, how much of a threat would he be to her business anyway? It wasn’t like he could actually make a decent cup of coffee.

‘So, are you going to stand there staring at me like I’m God’s gift or are you going to give me my free scones?’

Mel blushed.

‘Sorry, I wasn’t staring. Just…’

‘Imagining me kissing you. Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t worry, you’re not the first woman.’

‘I wasn’t.’ Mel sputtered, horrified. ‘I wouldn’t.’

‘I know. I’m teasing. Relax.’

The word had the opposite effect. Mel’s body coiled up, ready to attack at the next thing he said that irritated her.

Why was he having this effect on her? Usually nothing ruffled her feathers, or her multicoloured hair. She’d weathered so much change in her life that something as small as someone making an attempt to kill off her coffee business should be laughable. But as she looked into his handsome and openly amused face she wanted to take up her tongs, grab his earlobe in its metal claws, give it a good twist, then drag him to the door and shove him out of it. Instead she picked up the tongs, fished two scones out onto a plate, added a pat of butter and passed the plate to him.

‘Can you just… sit. I’ll bring your coffee to you.’

With a wink and a grin Tony did exactly as she asked, leaving her to make his coffee in peace. The familiar ritual of grinding the beans, tamping them down, smelling the rich aroma of the coffee as it dripped into a cup while she heated the milk relaxed her, so much more than a man telling her to relax ever would. Maybe the problem wasn’t that he was trying to ruin her business; maybe it was that he was trying to take away the most stability she’d had in years.

After her café in Leeds had shown the first signs of bottoming out, Mel had sold while the going was better than worse and decided to search out a new spot to move to. She’d had two rules in mind. One, the place had to have little to no competition. Two, after moving around for so many years, she finally wanted to find a place she would come to call home. So she’d packed up her life, headed south, and stumbled across Rabbits Leap after getting lost and motoring about inland Devon with a perilously low tank of petrol.

The moment she’d seen the pretty village filled with blooming flower boxes, kids meandering down the main street licking ice creams without parents helicoptering about them, and a store smack bang in the middle with a ‘for rent’ sign stuck to the door, a little part of her heart had burst into song. The plan had been to settle down, set up shop and make enough to save and survive. But, as she watched Tony flick through a fashion magazine, she could see her plans to make Rabbits Leap her forever home go the way of coffee dregs, down the gurgler.

She picked up the coffee and walked it over to Tony’s table where he was stuffing his face.

‘Your coffee.’

‘Thish shcone is amazhing.’ Tony swallowed and brushed crumbs from his lips and chin.

Full lips, strong angular chin, Mel noted, before mentally swatting herself. She wasn’t meant to be perving at the enemy. ‘Well, it’s my grandma’s secret recipe, so it should be.’

‘Can I have the recipe?’

‘What part of secret do you not understand?’ She set the cup down with a clank.

‘Sit.’ Tony pushed out the chair opposite him with his foot.

‘I’ve things to do.’

‘Sit.’

Mel huffed, then did as she was told.

‘So how are things?’ Tony picked up the cup and took a sip, giving a small grunt of appreciation.

‘That’s how good yours are going to have to be.’ Mel folded her arms across her chest and tipped her head to the side. A small show of arrogance, but for all the things she wasn’t great at, she knew she could cook and she could make a damn good cup of coffee.

‘It’s good to know the benchmark.’ Tony’s voice was strong but she was sure a hint of panic flashed through those blue sparklers of his. ‘Anyway, this isn’t about me. How are you? I haven’t seen you in the pub with that vet of yours for a while now.’

Mel narrowed her eyes in suspicion. ‘Have you been staking me out? Figuring all the ways you can try and horn in on my bit of business?’

‘Rabbits Leap makes a habit of knowing Rabbits Leap. We keep an eye on our own. We take care of our own…’ A tightening of those lush lips. A moment of regret? No matter. He’d given her ammunition.

‘You take care of your own by taking over parts of their businesses? My, how civically minded you are.’

‘I know you’re annoyed about the machine, Mel, but you don’t have to be sarcastic about it. Can’t we deal with the situation like adults?’

Mel’s grip around herself tightened as her irritation soared. ‘I can be whatever I want in my café. And I can say whatever I want, however I want, especially when dealing with a coffee thief. What’s next? You’ll be calling my beans supplier? Good luck with that. They know what loyalty means.’

Tony’s lips thinned out more. Good. She was getting to him. Giving him something to think about.

‘As for the vet? Not that it’s any of your business but we’re over. He decided small-town veterinary work wasn’t for him and headed over to Africa to work with wildebeest or something like that.’

‘Thought he would.’

‘Really?’ Mel’s chin lifted in surprise. She’d never thought Tony was the kind of guy who delved below the surface of anything. With that easy smile and light laugh, he seemed… well, about as shallow as one of the puddles that amassed on the main street after a spring shower.

‘Yeah, he had that look about him, the “this place will do for now” look. I’ve seen it before. I knew it was only a matter of time before he left.’ Tony picked up his coffee and took a sip. ‘God, this really is good. Is everything you do this good?’

Mel’s ears prickled hot. Was she imagining it or was that a double entendre? She met his blue eyes and saw not a hint of sparkle or tease. Nope, no double entendre; he wasn’t trying to pick her up.

‘I guess that means I was “this girl will do for now”,’ she said out loud, more to herself than to Tony.

‘Then he was a fool. A man would be lucky to have a pink-haired barista and amazing cook loving him, cooking for him and making his morning coffee.’

‘That sounds more like a slave-master relationship than a real, true-love one…’

‘I’m sure the man would repay you in other ways.’

This time the sparkle was definitely in his eyes.

‘I’d make sure he did.’ The words came out before she could stop them, along with a wink. Traitor. She dipped her head to hide the flush creeping up over her cheeks. How dare her body flirt so easily with the enemy, even though, with his kind words, he was acting more like a friend. Or someone who might be angling for something more than that. Not that she’d ever sleep with the enemy. Uh-uh. No way.

Taking a long, slow, cooling breath she looked up into Tony’s eyes. Something flashed through them. Something quick, hot, fierce. A heck of a lot like desire. Had he been thinking about her… with him? Mel shook the thought clear. Nope, that’d never happen. They were chalk and cheese. Besides, there was no way she was playing around with the local lothario. He didn’t tick any of her boxes. Well, not all of them. Hot. Yes. Fun. Yes. But he couldn’t commit. She’d heard the village gossip. He was a one-man band. No woman lasted more than a night. Anyway, he was hardly boyfriend material. He only loved himself, and he was obviously careless with money, which meant careless with security, and that was the one thing Mel was always careful about.

‘So why did you come here, Tony?’

‘I need to apologise and then we need to have a conversation.’

Mel sat up straighter in her chair. An apology? She hadn’t seen that coming. ‘So, apologise.’

‘I’m sorry I bought the coffee machine. Actually, I’m not. But I’m sorry you had to find out about it like that.’

‘Not much of an apologiser, are you?’

He at least had the good grace to look slightly ashamed.

‘Well, I’m hoping we can come to an arrangement about it.’

‘Really? How about I arrange for it to be removed and you go back to bartending?’

‘How about you teach me how to use it… and maybe even teach me how to cook?’

Mel couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Was Tony mentally deficient?

‘Cook? What are you on?’

‘That smell, what is it?’

Mel sniffed the air and remembered she had lamb shanks slow-cooking in a tomato balsamic jus in the back kitchen.

‘That’s my dinner.’

‘It smells amazing.’

‘Don’t try and distract me.’ She waved her hand in impatience. ‘Why would I teach you my whole trade? Coffee and baking? I’d be out of business within weeks.’

‘No, I don’t want to know how to bake. I’m talking about learning to cook real food, like whatever it is you’ve got going back there.’ Tony’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

Mel could almost see the ideas forming in his head. His whole demeanour was changing in front of her eyes, energy fair sparking off his disturbingly muscular body.

‘You’ve seen the food we do at The Bullion. It’s all deep-fried and artery-clogging. I need to get with the times, update the menu, make it appealing, maybe even get entertainment in on special nights, see if I can’t pull in a few more punters. Turn the place into a tourist attraction, or something. Which would be good for your business, too...’

Tony leaned forward and placed his hand over hers.

Pull away.

But she couldn’t. Tony’s fingers tightened around the outer edges of her fist, warm, strong, capable. Hands that knew how to work. Weren’t afraid of getting dirty…

Did he work out, she mused, as her eyes travelled up the length of his legs and settled on his stomach. Was there a six-pack hiding beneath that grey T-shirt? Strongly defined, hard thighs underneath those denims? Biceps made for picking a woman up and pinning her to a wall…

Get it together, girl! She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping not seeing Tony would stop those unneeded images forming in her head. It didn’t work. Was this the effect he had on women? Is that why he was known for having a string of them? Was he truly irresistible?

‘So are you going to help me? Or are you too busy meditating over there?’

Mel tugged her hand out from under his and rubbed her face wearily. It had been a long day. Between her mother’s announcement sending her stomach into free-fall and the revelation that the man sitting opposite her had decided to pit himself against her in the business stakes, she was ready to go to bed. Alone.

‘What’s in it for me?’ Mel opened her eyes to see Tony giving her a charming smile.

‘The pleasure of my company?’

‘I’m not seeing anything pleasurable about your company.’ The lie came quick and easy.

‘Well, maybe it’s time you did.’ Tony’s teasing tone was back. ‘Look, how about this for a deal. You help me create a dinner menu, maybe show me how to make a decent coffee…’

Mel’s eyebrows shot up, her hackles rising.

‘…and I promise to not serve the java until your café closes at…’

‘Three.’

‘Three it is.’

‘I still don’t feel like it’s a good enough deal for me to give you this much help…’

‘Any wine you drink at the pub will be free for the duration of your help?’

The teasing tone was tinged with desperation. Tony had alluded to things not going great, things needing fixing, but maybe he was in deeper than he was willing to let on? And maybe – an idea flitted about her mind – he could help her with her latest drama, the drama that was about to blow into town any day now…

‘Okay. I’m insane for doing this, I’ll probably regret it with every fibre of my being, but okay. I’ll help you… but you’ve got to do one more thing for me.’

‘Anything. Just name it.’

Mel screwed up her courage and forced the words out before she could talk herself out of them. ‘I need you to be my fiancé.’


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_687d66d1-c88b-55b1-95b7-cb44ef0bcfdb)

The scrape of metal on wooden floor filled the café as Tony pushed the chair away from the table and sprang up. ‘Woah, hold on there, Mel. You’re moving a little fast for me. Learning a few tips and tricks in the kitchen in exchange for getting married? I usually like to have a couple of dates first, be given flowers, chocolates, maybe even a diamond ring…’ he joked, hoping to see her demeanour lighten up.

He waited for Mel’s shoulders to sink. They didn’t.

Looked for her serious eyes to lighten. They remained serious.

‘Mel, this is the bit where you lightly elbow me in the stomach and tell me you’re joking.’

Mel stood up and folded her arms over her chest. ‘But I’m not joking. You need to be my fiancé if you want me to teach you how to cook. It’s this deal or no deal.’

Tony levelled his gaze at Mel What was she playing at? ‘You’re dreaming, Mel. Literally. I don’t do girlfriends. And I don’t do fiancées. Ever. There’s not a girl in this world who could make me settle down.’

Mel clapped a hand to her forehead and groaned. ‘Oh my God, not a real fiancé, you crazy man. There’s no way I’d put my heart in your hands, I’ve heard what people say about you, you know.’

Tony shrugged, unabashed. He knew what people said about him. It was the truth. He didn’t stick around, and he didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. His father had shown him what heartbreak looked like, and he didn’t want to be in the position to repeat it. That meant love was off the table.

‘I don’t understand. Why do you need a fake fiancé? What for? To get back at the vet? The one who’s on a whole other continent, probably with his arm up a rhino’s butt right now?’

Mel closed her eyes as if trying to centre herself. ‘God, she’s not even here and I’m being sucked into her maelstrom,’ she mumbled under her breath.

‘Her? Who’s her?’ He took a step away from Mel. Then another. The café’s door was only a few metres away; maybe he could make his escape and forget any of this had ever happened. He’d find another way to save The Bullion, to keep it out of some grabby, money-hungry estate agents’ hands. Maybe he’d just have to return the coffee machine? Get the money back. Pay the rates. But then what? There’d only be more rates to come, and no money to pay them. No. He had to think bigger. He had to do everything in his power to attract back the locals, and to maybe even attract those from nearby villages.

Mel bit down on her lip. ‘Her is my mother. I need a fake fiancé for when my mother arrives.’ She opened her eyes and met his gaze. Didn’t even flinch when he gave her his best ‘are you for real?’ look.

‘So let me get this straight. In exchange for teaching me to cook proper pub food and for letting me serve coffee after 3 pm, I have to be your fake fiancé for the duration of your mother’s stay? I just don’t think it’s worth it. I’m getting the pointier end of the stick.’

‘Well, it’s not like we’d have to live together. And she’d only be here a few days. Mum never stays anywhere very long. And, well, I hate to say this, Tony, but you need me. I’ve heard the rumours. Mrs Harper was in here today saying The Bullion isn’t paying its bills, and that it’s also behind in taxes. That you’re only months away from being bankrupt and losing everything. Let me help you change that. And I promise that, once my mother has gone, I’ll release you from fiancé duties and continue to help you build a menu.’

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. Damn. He’d hoped people hadn’t realised the dire straits he was in. But with his dad’s refusal to admit they were in trouble, then the cost of his funeral, and on top of that the modernisations and innovations of pubs in the closest villages, which had seen Rabbits Leap’s locals leaving The Bullion for more interesting pastures, money had been tight. Tighter than tight. Verging on non-existent. He was screwed. And Mel knew it.

‘So, Tony McArthur, will you marry me?’

Tony’s breath caught in his throat, like a noose round his neck, or a ring on his finger. ‘It seems I have no choice.’

‘Good.’ Mel nodded. ‘Well, it’s time for me to shut up shop, so we may as well make a start. Have you ever made lasagne?’

***

Mel picked up one of Tony’s knives and ran her finger over the blade. It was as blunt as she’d been back at the café. Her stomach had knotted up when she’d brought up his financial situation, but he’d left her no choice. She needed him as much as he needed her, and she didn’t have the time to deal with his resistance, not with her mother due to arrive on her doorstep.

‘When’s the last time these were sharpened?’ She turned to Tony who was propping open the door that separated the pub and kitchen, keeping an eye on the handful of punters who were nursing a beer.

He shrugged. ‘Not since Dad passed. And even then, he wasn’t one for the cooking. That had been Mum’s domain.’ He flicked his eyes away from her and focused them on the customers.

Was it her imagination or had Tony’s eyes misted up?

‘How old were you when your mum passed?’

‘Five.’

‘That must have been hard, not having her around.’ Mel rifled through a drawer and found a butcher’s steel and got to work sharpening the knife in preparation for her first cooking lesson.

Tony glanced down at his shoes and grunted. Followed by another shoulder shrug.

So it had been hard. Mel figured as much. She knew a thing or two about not having parents around, and she didn’t know what was worse. Having one gone for ever, or having one who came and went whenever it suited them…

She set the steel down and grabbed an onion. ‘Right, so you know how to chop an onion, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. Pass the knife.’

Mel sighed, relieved. Since she’d followed him to the pub he’d been all monosyllabic answers and grunts. That, combined with furtive glances and plenty of space between the two of them, had made for an uncomfortable half hour. How they were going to fake a relationship in front of her mother she had no idea, but maybe the cooking would bring them together.

‘Stop!’ she cried out, registering the butchering going on in front of her. ‘What are you doing to that poor vegetable? What did it ever do to you?’

‘What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m chopping it up like you said.’

‘You’re killing it deader than dead. Who even thought to teach you how to chop a vegetable like that?’

‘Well, as we just talked about, my mother has been busy being deceased for the last couple of decades and my father’s idea of cooking involved a deep fryer and whatever came out of the bulk bags of bar food he had shipped in. So what little I know is what I’ve taught myself.’

Mel’s face flashed crimson-hot with embarrassment. ‘I’m sorry. Stupid choice of words.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ The deep lines running between Tony’s eyes softened. ‘So, are you going to show me how to cut an onion or are you going to just stand there looking at me with that cute little face of yours all red as those tinned tomatoes?’

‘First rule of the kitchen – don’t irritate the chef by calling her cute. Now give me that knife.’

Mel took the knife off Tony, grabbed a fresh onion, chopped the top off it, halved it, then began running the knife down the length of it, making lines half a centimetre apart. When she reached the other end of the onion she spun it round and efficiently sliced it width-wise, watching with satisfaction as little cubes of onion crumbled onto the board.

‘It’s like magic.’

The wonder in Tony’s voice made her grin. It had seemed a little like magic to her the first time she’d watched a chef do it, too, but after peeling and chopping her thousandth onion in a matter of weeks it had well and truly stopped feeling magical and simply felt like second nature.

She ran her finger down the blade of the knife to clean off the last few bits of onion, then flipped the handle in Tony’s direction.

‘Your turn.’

Tony glanced sceptically at the knife, then turned the look on her.

‘It won’t bite,’ she said.

‘But you might.’

‘Not if you don’t want me to…’ Her words came out low, sweet… and there was no missing the seductive tone. Mel mentally kicked herself in the shins. What was going on with her? She was acting like… someone she never wanted to act like.

Tony’s lips quirked as his eyebrow raised in amusement. ‘Geez, Mel. Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?’

The sparkle was back, sending the warmth that had bloomed over Mel’s face skyrocketing. ‘Yeah, it’s hot. It’s just the oven. Another rule – if a recipe says preheat the oven, preheat the oven.’ She fanned her face furiously. ‘That’s a mighty good oven you’ve got over there. Works fast.’ Stop burbling, she ordered herself. ‘Now stop gawking at me, pick up the knife and chop that onion like I showed you.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’ Tony saluted and took the knife from her.

He held it gently, as if it might bite. The complete opposite to the confident manner with which he’d grabbed it before hacking at the onion a few minutes ago.

‘Chop off the top,’ Mel instructed, keeping her voice soft, calm, so as not to freak him out any more.

His fingers took hold of the fresh onion and held it to the board. His knuckles turned more and more white with tension the closer the knife got to its victim. His shoulders bunched up once more.

‘You don’t have to be nervous. You’ve got this. You can do it. It’s just chopping an onion. I mean, you did it before, badly, but you did it.’

The knife clattered loudly onto the stainless-steel bench as Tony took an abrupt step back.

‘What’s wrong? You’ll be fine.’

She reached out to touch his arm but he jerked it away so it was just out of reach.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do this. What if I bugger it up? What if it all goes wrong?’ His blue eyes were panicked as the words rushed out.

Mel knew he wasn’t talking about the onion. He had the look of a person who could see their future falling apart. His voice held the same fear she’d felt to her very core when her business in Leeds had started to fall over. His eyes had the same wild look she’d seen reflected back at herself every time she’d been packed up, pulled out of school and taken somewhere to start a new life.

His life was spinning out of control and he didn’t believe he could do a single thing to slow it down. But she could.

‘Here. I’ll help.’ She picked up the knife. ‘We’ll do it together.’

Mel faced the bench and indicated for him to get behind her. Tony nodded in understanding and encircled her with his arms. One hand fell atop of her onion-holding hand, the other her knife-holding hand.

‘Relax.’ She wriggled her knife-holding hand, the hand he was currently squeezing every last drop of blood out of.

‘Sorry,’ he grunted, loosening his grip.

Mel focused on the onion and tried to ignore the tension she could feel radiating off him. Tension, and heat, and the slightest aroma of salt mixed with a hoppy earthiness. He smelt like a man should. Raw. Pure. Her body swayed backwards a little, closer to him. A mind of its own, it wanted to feel him against her, to see if they were a good fit.

Snap out of it. She wasn’t here to have a fling with the town playboy, she was here to work, to show him how to make a simple lasagne, and that was it.

‘So we chop the head off the onion.’

She pressed down on the knife, feeling him press along with her, his hand hot upon hers.

‘Then we cut it in half.’

They swivelled the onion round and sliced through it, the two halves separated, releasing its potent aroma.

‘Now you peel the layers off,’ she instructed, momentarily feeling bereft when his hands left hers.

‘Now we slice down the length.’

His hands were on hers again. She couldn’t ignore the way his touch sent tingles racing up her arms, through her body, upsetting a flutter of butterflies that had been hibernating in her stomach. Was she really this desperate for a man? Did she need one so much that the tiniest hint of touch, the smallest flash of interest, sent her into a swooning mess?

‘Have you forgotten how to cut an onion?’

His breath was hot on her ear. The butterflies danced again.

‘Of course not. I was just taking it slowly…’ She fished around for an excuse. ‘Um, so, you know, you don’t forget how to cut an onion.’

‘So shouldn’t we be cutting down the width of it now?’

His fingers interlaced with hers and turned the onion around, before lifting the knife and cutting through the vegetable, sending little squares tumbling. Tumbling like her willpower. All she had to do was turn around, one hundred and eighty small, tight degrees, and she would be face to face, body to body, heart to heart, with a man she was damn sure could make her forget about her earlier phone call, about what was to come.

She let out a shaky breath.

‘Are you okay down there?’ Tony’s words were smooth, gentle. They mirrored the way she’d spoken to him earlier, when she’d had to bring him down from whatever fears he faced.

‘Fine. I just…’ She trailed off, unsure whether she could trust Tony, whether he would understand how one person could turn your world upside down, could shake things up, could leave you scrambling to put together the pieces for years after. Perhaps even a lifetime.

The slam of The Bullion’s heavy, oak front door hitting the wall followed by the dull rumble of feet on threadbare carpet snapped Mel out of her reverie. ‘Oh my God, it sounds like a whole rugby team just barged in…’

‘Oh, shit. Bollocks.’ Tony pushed her arm, still wrapped round him, away and crossed the kitchen to the bar in two long strides. ‘It’s not the sound of rugby players. It’s actual rugby players.’

Mel moved to where he was standing and watched as a wave of short, tall, slightly overweight middle-aged men rushed to the bar. ‘What kind of rugby team are they?’

‘The kind that come every second year for the annual grudge match. It’s this weekend. The Randy Rabbits vs The Bad Boys of Babbler. And the opposition are meant to be staying at The Bullion.’

‘And you forgot this?’ Mel looked up at Tony and registered the shock on his face, emphasised by the slight shade of green his skin was giving off.

‘How the hell did I forget? I can’t send them away, I need their cash,’ Tony said to no one in particular. ‘The beds aren’t made. I didn’t order extra food. I don’t even have anyone who can help me out at the bar. Jody’s busy with the boys…’

Tony glanced down at Mel. ‘But you. You’re here. You could help me. You’re my fiancée, after all.’

Mel shook her head and backed away from the madman in front of her. ‘That’s not part of the deal. That’s not what I signed up for. And besides, I have to be in bed soon. I’ve got a business to run, too, remember? And I have to be up early to bake.’

‘You promised, Mel. You promised you’d help me save The Bullion. And look, there’s a whole team of hungry men out there. And we’re making a lasagne. We’ve got the ingredients. You just have to do that… and then maybe sort out the bedrooms for me. Come on, Mel. You’re my fiancée. You have to.’ Tony reached for her hands and held them in his to his heart, which she could feel thumping through his navy jumper. ‘Don’t make me beg. It’s just… there’s no one else.’

There’s no one else.

Damn it. Couldn’t he have chosen another line? Mel knew all too well what it was like to have to fend for yourself. There was no way she could turn him down.

‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘But you’re still cooking the lasagne. I’ll finish off the onions while you get that lot out there sorted for drinks, all right?’

She waved him off and went back to prepping dinner, the chopping and dicing soothing her jangled nerves. Between her new and unexpected attraction to Tony and her mother’s impending arrival she was out of sorts. Gone was her perfectly ordered life of waking up, baking, serving customers, then reading or watching a show and going to bed. Instead, here she was, teaching a man to cook a lasagne, offering to make beds, and trying her best to help out the one person who’d threatened her security in the first place.

But it was all for the greater good. It had to be.

She scraped together the onions and waited for Tony to come back in to finish off his first cooking lesson. And waited. Then waited some more. Impatient to get going, she poked her head through the door to see him pulling pint after pint. His usually artfully mussed hair was standing out at odd angles, and a sheen of perspiration covered his forehead.

Tony glanced over and caught her eye. ‘I’ll be through in a minute.’

‘You don’t look like you’ll get away at the rate they’re drinking.’

‘Can you finish it off?’

‘No. That’s not the deal. You cook. I’ll pour the drinks.’

‘But I’m a barman. You’re a cook.’

‘And you’re meant to be learning to cook. I’ve got the recipe written down. You just need to follow it. I’ll be here if you need me.’

Tony’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you even know how to pull a beer?’

‘I’ve been dragged to enough pubs that I’m pretty sure I can copy what I’ve seen.’ Mel picked up a glass and poured the perfect beer with just the right amount of head to prove her point.

‘Fine. But soon as I’m done you’re making the beds and I’m back on the bar.’

‘Fine.’ Mel waved him back to the kitchen, and tried to ignore the tingle of pleasure that bloomed and spread through her when he smiled his thanks.

***

Two hours later the last sheet was tucked in, the last comforter brushed smooth, the last pillow plumped, the last decent fingernail she had on her hands was well and truly ripped to shreds, and each and every last muscle in her body ached.

Mel stretched, hearing cricks and creaks throughout her shoulders and neck. That was a mission, and now she needed a drink. Luckily she was in a pub. And from the rousing chorus of the National Anthem going on downstairs, things were still in full flight.

She plodded down the stairs and pushed through the staff door to see Tony hunched over the bar, his head in his hands, half or even mostly asleep.

‘Any chance of an Irish crème and milk?’ she whispered softly in his ear, not wanting to startle him.

‘Any chance of you sorting yourself out?’ he mumbled into his hands.

She thought to remind him that she’d been up since the early hours, that she’d poured loads of beer and then served up the lasagne he’d cooked to a whole rugby team, and then made up twenty beds, but thought better of it. This wasn’t the Tony the ladies of the village liked to gossip about over their lattes. That Tony had an easy smile, a carefree attitude and, once in the sack, had all the energy of a spring bunny. This Tony? He looked shattered. Beaten. More in need of a good sleep than a roll in the hay.

Mel glanced over at the gleaming monstrosity. Although now that he’d promised not to step on her turf, the coffee machine didn’t seem quite so evil. And right now it could come in handy. She walked down to the end of the bar, ignoring the catcalls as some of the team realised there was a woman in their midst. She stood in front of it and ran her hand along the cool, gleaming steel. Switch on, pour milk in jug, and steam. The ritual was as soothing as ever. She frothed the milk so it was just warm, not hot. Then, pouring it into a mug, she took it down to Tony.

‘Here.’ She pressed the cup against the back of his hand.

He jolted in fright.

‘You need this.’

‘Does it have caffeine in it?’ He turned his head and gave her a sleepy half-smile. ‘Because I really need caffeine. A truckload of it.’

‘If you’re going to be dealing with this rabble…’ She nodded towards the players who, for some unknown reason, had decided to build a human pyramid. ‘You’re going to need a good sleep. Take it. It’s just warm milk.’

‘You’re too good to me.’ He took the mug in one hand and cupped her cheek with the other.

‘Well. If that’s not love’s dream right there, I don’t know what is!’

Mel froze. She knew that voice. Brash. Loud. Demanding. That voice wasn’t meant to be here until tomorrow. She jerked her head away from Tony’s hand, mortified to be caught in such a tender, intimate moment …

‘Are you just going to stand there looking like a gormless wonder, or are you going to get your behind over here and give your mother a hug?’

Hurricane Val had hit.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_4317094f-f074-5afb-af25-29bd403f5a4e)

‘Mum, I didn’t expect you so soon. What a surprise.’

Mel didn’t look surprised; she looked shell-shocked, maybe even a little sick. Strange, you’d have thought she’d have been happy to see her mother.

Although to be fair, outside of their friendly chats over the bar and in passing on the street, Tony didn’t know much about Mel. In fact he could tick off what he did know about her on one hand. She worked hard, kept to herself, and was pretty to look at. Pretty, and funny, and not afraid of getting stuck in and making things happen. He looked down at the warm milk she’d pressed into his hands. She was caring, too, but most definitely not his type. She was the settling type.

Or was she? A thought nagged at him… settling types liked their family, didn’t they? Wanted to have them around? Have a big one themselves? Breed like rabbits and enjoy big family dinners every night? Cheerful Christmases. Rowdy birthdays. So Mel’s mother turning up should’ve been a good thing. So why was Mel going so pale her black-and-pink hair was looking both darker and more vibrant than ever?

‘Mel, aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome friend? I’m sure I raised you better than that.’ Mel’s mother thrust her hand forward, palm down, in Tony’s direction.

She wanted him to kiss her hand? Not shake it? And had she just thrown him a flirtatious wink along with that girlish giggle?

‘The name’s Tony.’ He leant over and kissed her proffered hand, making Mel’s mum laugh in delight as she flipped her poker-straight, long blonde hair over her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mel shake her head and roll her eyes. So she wasn’t her mother’s number-one fan. Odd.

‘And I’m Valerie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘What made you come early, Mum? And why all the bags? I thought you were only planning to stay for a day or two.’

Tony followed Mel’s gaze to the bags stacked by the front door. There were so many, Mel’s mum could’ve started up her own luggage shop.

A knot began to form in his stomach.

‘Oh, Mel, let’s not talk about that right now. We can catch up properly tomorrow. What I need right now is my beauty sleep. Where’s the nearest bed?’

Did Mel’s mum just give him a meaningful glance? Oh, hell. There was no way he was sharing his bed with her. She’d eat him alive. Oh, and he was meant to be getting married to her daughter.

‘My apartment’s just down the road, Mum. You can sleep there.’

‘Your apartment?’ The flirty eyes hardened. ‘You’re engaged, aren’t you? Why would you need an apartment? Surely you and your fiancé are living together?’

‘We are.’ The words came out before he could think. The knot grew tighter. Damn. Not enough sleep had made him stupid, unable to think straight. But it was too late to back out now. ‘But sometimes this place gets rowdy late into the night and Mel has to be up early for the café, so that’s when she stays over there.’

‘Well, that’s a very modern arrangement you’ve got going. Not particularly cosy, though. I don’t know, Melanie… If I were getting married to this hunk right here I wouldn’t let him out of my sight. Especially with so many women no doubt just waiting to pounce.’

‘I trust Tony. He would never let me down. Unlike some people I know.’

Tony had spent enough hours watching people get tetchy with each other after a few drinks to know when he heard loaded words. Fighting words. Words to wind up the evening with before the two women got even more wound up and a full-on family spat erupted with a gleeful audience to egg them on. Tony ducked down and grabbed the megaphone he kept on hand for the rare occasion when the pub was busy and the patrons needed to be moved on. It was time for a bit, or a lot, of distraction.

‘Down those drinks, boys. It’s time to hit the sack!’

Tony ignored the groans and mutterings of ‘killjoy’ coming from the players.

Setting the megaphone down, he turned to Mel and Valerie. His booming announcement had stopped the sniping but Mel was still glaring at her mother, while her mother stared back at her daughter, an innocent expression on her face. He was mighty glad not to be sharing a room with either of them tonight. ‘That goes for you two as well. Get home and I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘You’re shutting up shop? But I just got here.’ Valerie pouted and widened her eyes. ‘And you’re sending the men away? Oh, surely we can stay up for one little drink. They look like so much fun.’

‘What about your beauty sleep, Mum?’ Mel asked pointedly.

‘Oh, I’ll just get it at the other end of the day. A good sleep-in works wonders… and besides, those gentlemen don’t look ready for sleep either.’

‘You’d have thought you’d have had enough fun for a lifetime.’ Mel’s tone was as dark as the shadows under her eyes.

‘Sorry, Valerie. Once the megaphone has come out, it’s time for everyone to get out.’

‘Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.’ Valerie smiled prettily up at him. ‘Speaking of trying… Melanie, you really ought to do something with that hair of yours. Honestly. It’s hardly feminine.’

Tony watched Mel’s chest rise as she sucked in a breath, then slowly deflated. Counting to ten? Twenty? Her mother had been here only a few minutes and she’d already insulted Mel twice. No wonder they weren’t close.

‘My hair’s fine, Mother. Now let’s get going. I’ve got to be up early and you’re not the only one who needs beauty sleep.’

‘Oh, I can see that, dear. Don’t you worry.’ Valerie turned to Tony. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait for us to get further acquainted.’

Tony caught Mel rolling her eyes and winked at her as she gathered up as many bags as she could while her mother took one in each hand. As they tottered out the door Mel slung her mother a murderous look.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Right, so he had one night to figure out how to be a convincing fiancé for a few days. He remembered the towering suitcases. At least, he hoped it would only be for a few days…

***

‘This is a very homely apartment you’ve got here, Melanie.’

Homely? In her mother’s vernacular that meant ‘pokey’.

‘I like it.’ And she did. The apartment above the shop was small, but it was all she needed. Open-plan living with a small kitchenette, one bedroom, and a bathroom. The landlord had allowed her to splash a little paint on the walls. And although lemon yellow wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she liked it. It reminded her of the bedroom she’d spent so much time in at her grandma’s.

‘And there’s an awful lot of stuff here for a spot where you just need to sleep…’

God, the Spanish Inquisition would’ve been easier to deal with. Nothing got past Valerie. She had a knack of sizing someone up and seeing their weak spots, or the secrets they were hiding, in seconds. She wasn’t afraid to let them know about it either. Like Tony and the drunken women…

‘Well, Tony’s living area isn’t exactly large…’

‘But he has a huge building? Surely he could take over one of the pub’s bedrooms, maybe knock a wall out and create some room for you? I mean, you’ve been together how long now? At least a year?’

Mel groaned inwardly. Lying to her mother about her relationship status had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to stop the constant badgering about settling down with a man. She’d kind of hoped the vet was going to become the real-life embodiment of her fake boyfriend, but that hope left when he did. And the last thing she’d expected was her mother to visit. That wasn’t something they did… well, apart from the times when something had gone wrong in her mother’s life… which begged the question, why was she here? What had gone wrong?

‘Yeah… we’ve been going out just over a year now.’ Mel felt the walls starting to close in on her. Her previously cosy apartment now felt like it was about to choke her.

‘Well, he really needs to sort that situation out. I’ll talk to him. I can’t have my girl living out of a suitcase.’

Air. There was none. The world was starting to spin. Mel walked to the window, pushed it open and breathed in the brisk, wintry air. Although tinged with wood smoke it felt fresh, clearing, invigorating.

‘And don’t tell me you’re pregnant? Have you set a date for the wedding? We’ll move it up. I don’t want my only child to be an unwed mother, or worse, look like a marshmallow in a wedding dress.’

Mel spun to her mother, anger pulsing in her veins. What right did she have to come in here and tip her nice, secure, routined-up-the-yin-yang life upside down? Hadn’t she done that enough?

‘Mother. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired. I’ve been up since the wee hours. I’ve worked all day in the café. Then worked all night for Tony. And look, it’s the wee hours again. I need to get some sleep. And I don’t need to be harangued about every aspect of my life...’

Her mother’s soft-blue eyes welled up with tears. Of course, she was able to give it but not take it. Nothing had changed there. But despite everything, seeing her mother in pain tugged at her heart. Same way it always had.

‘After all, there’s plenty of time for you to do that.’ She lifted one eyebrow and gave her a small, teasing smile, glad to see the tears recede as fast as they’d built up.

‘Oh, Mel.’ Her mother swept over and pulled her into her lean embrace. ‘What a mean old cow you must think I am. I only want the best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’

You wanted the best for me? Mel was glad her mother couldn’t see the grimace on her face. When had she ever wanted the best for her?

‘Now, since you’re not with child, you sleep on this perfectly comfortable-looking couch and I’ll take your bed.’ She felt a kiss brush the top of her head. ‘There’s a good girl.’

***

Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.

‘You kids stop playing with the door before I throw an overcooked muffin at your heads. Now get out of here and get to school,’ Mel yelled, searching for a pen underneath the sofa where customers usually waited for their takeaway coffees.

‘Nice arse!’

Mel nearly hit her head in shock. What kid in town had a baritone voice, let alone the cheek to say that to her?

‘Woohoo! Breakfast and a show!’

‘You lot. Cut that out. Show the lady some respect. She’s about to cook you the finest breakfast you’ve ever had.’

Mel wiggled her way backwards from under the sofa and stood up, clutching the pen. She smiled gratefully at Tony, who was staring in irritation at the rugby team as they piled into the café, their big frames filling up her chairs and tables, their aroma of deodorant and sweat competing with the aroma of freshly baked bread.

What was that look all about? And why were his fists clenched? Because they’d gone all caveman on her? Was he…? She flicked the idea away. No. Surely not. He couldn’t be jealous… just acting jealous, in case her mother was around. Acting like an overprotective fiancé. And speaking of her mother… was she still in bed?

Mel checked the time on the whitewashed reindeer clock on the wall that was surrounded by retro mirror art. Just past ten and she was still sleeping? She’d hoped she might have the decency to come and give her a hand this morning, maybe put together a few paninis or ice a cake, but no, that would mean Valerie was doing something for someone else for a change. And since helping her daughter out would serve no benefit to her it was never going to happen. Mel gritted her teeth in self-directed irritation. When would she stop giving her mother the benefit of the doubt?

Tony placed his hand on Mel’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. ‘Are you going to keep perving at the players or are you going to thank me?’

Mel considered shrugging his hand off. With no mother about there was no reason to act all touchy-feely with each other, but it felt warm, safe… possessive. Like he actually cared for her well-being. The hand on shoulder could stay, she decided. ‘Thank you for what? Bringing business into the café or giving me a cheap thrill? It’s nice to know my “arse” is still considered “nice”, even if the compliment came from a guy who I’m pretty sure might be closely related to a Neanderthal.’

Mel met Tony’s eyes. The irritation had abated, but she couldn’t miss the way he kept flicking his gaze between her and the players, as if making sure they were ignoring her, showing the lady ‘some respect’. Maybe he was being territorial? Or maybe he simply didn’t like women being treated like meat. Perhaps there was more to Tony than just a good time.

‘Thanks for defending my honour back there.’ She resisted the temptation to bat her eyelashes and add ‘my hero’. The last thing she needed to do was make the mess they were in even more muddled by flirting with Tony.

‘Well, I couldn’t have my betrothed being admired by other men and not say something. It would be unseemly. Um, small question, Mel…’ He lowered his voice and dropped his head closer to hers. ‘How are we going to explain our engagement to the town? Because I get the feeling your mother will not be discreet about it…’

Bugger. Mel hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t really thought any of it through. Her heart began to race. What had she been thinking, coming up with such a mad-hat idea? She should’ve just agreed to help Tony with his business and told her mother a white lie about her fiancé being out of town for work. Now she was stuck with a fiancé known for being a commitment-phobe and a mother who would probably marry them right then and there if she could. Her mother’s obsession with marriage was a mystery to Mel, but ever since she’d been born, that was all she’d done – meet and marry, meet and marry – and for some reason, despite its never having worked for her, she thought her daughter should do the same. Mel inwardly grimaced. It wasn’t like she had anything against marriage, but if she was going to do it she was going to do it right, with the right man, not the kind of men her mother had shacked up with.

‘Okay, okay okay.’ The words came quick, hurried. Tinged with heart-pumping panic. ‘We need to sort this out, now.’

She grabbed Tony by his shirt and pulled him behind the counter, ignoring the ‘you get ‘em’ cheers of the rugby players who seemed to think they were witnessing a passionate moment.

Ow! Her ankle caught on the metal leg of her kitchen table and she lost her balance, sending them falling backwards. She prepared for a second wave of pain as her back headed towards the lip of the stainless-steel bench. Instead, it was cushioned by something warm and soft, yet strong. Tony’s arms, she realised, as she saw a twinge of pain hit his eyes.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, furrows of concern appearing between his brows. ‘Did you hurt yourself?’

A stray blond curl flopped onto his forehead. It looked so silky. She fought the urge to reach up, wrap it around her fingers to discover whether it was as silken as she suspected, whether it would spring up if she pulled it down and released.

‘Are you winded? Are you in a whole heap of pain? You’re looking pretty dazed right now.’

She focused on his lips. Full, soft, yet no doubt capable of being hard, passionate. If she just stood on tippy toes she’d be able to reach those lips… be able to kiss them…

‘Should I be calling an ambulance?’

She blinked. Once. Twice. A handful of times. What had she been thinking? Kissing Tony? Was she mental? That’d only complicate an already messy situation.

‘I’m… fine.’

She was also dry. Who knew a hot wave of lust could make you so thirsty. She turned around in his arms, reached over for a glass and…

Hello. She felt something prod against her lower back. Hard. Thick. Long. Something that had a reputation for pleasing women far and wide. Should she pretend she had no idea? That’d be the polite thing to do. She grabbed a glass, filled it with water and turned back to Tony, who still hadn’t released her from his grasp. Not that she was complaining.

She sipped the water. Watching him watching her as the cool water wet her lips. Beaded on them.

His throat worked as he tried to swallow. Who knew Tony, stud of the land, could get so het up?

‘Water?’ She offered him the tumbler. ‘You look like you need it.’ She glanced down at the bulge-fest. ‘Feels like you need it, too.’

A slow smile spread over Tony’s face. Damn it. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Zipped it up and glued it for good measure. But this ridiculous, simmering attraction that kept flaring between them made her feel reckless. She closed her eyes. If she stared at those lips, that smile, that face one second longer she’d lose all control.

She was not going to lose control. Kissing her fiancé was not an option.

The glasses in the kitchen cabinet began to rattle as a soft footfall grew louder. Her mother was up, and coming down the stairs. Mel breathed a sigh of relief. Good. For once her timing was perfect.

‘Morning, Mum,’ she called, bright and cheery while trying to disentangle herself from Tony.

‘Morn…’ Valerie stopped short as she surveyed the scene before her.

Mel knew what it looked like. Two lovers caught in a clinch. A good thing, perhaps? At least it made their relationship look real.

Valerie’s hand flew to her eyes, shielding them from sight. ‘Oh! Don’t let me stop you, you little lovebirds. Enjoying a touch of romance in the morning. How adorable! Go on… I’ll just be making a cup of tea. Don’t let me interrupt you.’ She dropped her hand and gave them a wink, before flicking on the kettle.





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