CHAPTER ONE
‘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.’