I slowly set my fork on the table, unable to look away. “I’m good with you being there, sitting close by. I’m good with the restaurant you’ve booked instead of that ridiculous spa day. I’m happy with all the security measures in place, and the time. I’ll be polite, but still be myself. I’m good with the timeline you’ve given me to review the date, and the process of it all. What I’m not good with, is you sitting across from me, judging me for what I’ve eaten. I didn’t get a chance to eat last night because I was working till gone four this morning at my second job. I didn’t get a chance to eat breakfast because I got up late due to very little sleep and then had to rush to meet you,” I lie, knowing full well I pigged out last night and this morning on my way here.
I sniffle, glancing down at the table. “I don’t like to be judged about my weight.”
Surprising me, a hand slides across the table and over mine. I look up from the hand, locking gazes with him. My heart stops.
Growing up with two boisterous brothers and a family of nut cases, I had to be loud, strong. I couldn’t let anything get to me. It never meant I wasn’t loved, and it didn’t mean the other women in my family were weak. It was because I was Max Carter’s daughter. And if someone could live through his overbearing behaviour, they could live through anything. And I did. And no one ever apologised if they said anything offensive to me. They knew I could take it, and I could. And if any relative actually upset me, I knew they’d regret it immediately. And not just because I would flip out on them. But because they love me and would never want to truly hurt me.
But until now, I never knew what it meant for someone other than family to care. It gives me pause. A strong pause. And the rapid beat of my heart doesn’t make it any better. I want to melt into a puddle, which isn’t me. It’s so damn confusing. I have to remind myself he’s my boss.
And a massive jerk.
With slumped shoulders and straight mouth, he looks ashamed of himself.
And if I was anyone else seeing that inkling of guilt, I would confess or scream ‘joke’. But I’m not just anyone. And I kind of get a kick out of making people feel uncomfortable.
“That came across wrong, and I’m truly sorry if I implied otherwise. Would it make you feel better if I let you order whatever dessert you want?”
I snub my nose at him, wiping under my eyes. I dragged him to the shopping centre thirty minutes from home and made sure I chose the most expensive restaurant.
“It would be a start.”
“I said I’m sorry,” he tells me, his voice gentle, caring. I turn to face him, lost in the orbs of his green eyes. “What would make it better?”
I finish taking a sip of my drink and stare at him straight on. “For starters, you can let me pick my outfit.”
“Of course, of course,” he says, briefly looking away.
When he turns back, I smile wide and grab another piece of his steak. “Great.”
His lips tighten, his eyes narrowing into slits. “You just played me, didn’t you?”
I finish chewing before singing, “Like a violin.”
He crosses his arms, resting them against the table, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I was letting you choose your outfit anyway.”
I gasp, hurt someone actually got one over on me. “You weren’t?”
He shrugs. “I might criticize your clothes for work, but I would never have forced you to wear something you weren’t comfortable in.”
“That’s not what it seemed like the first day I met you. Do you know how uncomfortable a suit is? And how ridiculous I feel wearing one?”
“I bet you don’t look ridiculous in one,” he says, his eyes widening a touch, like he hadn’t meant to say it.
I inwardly groan when I automatically wink at him. “I didn’t say I’d look ridiculous. I’d look fucking hot. I’d just feel it. I don’t mind toning down what I wear, but I’m not changing who I am.”
He doesn’t speak for a moment, seeming to think it over. He gives a sharp nod. “I can deal with that.”
“Good. Now, is there anything else you need to go through, or can we order that dessert you promised?”
He grins, shaking his head. “Go ahead, just don’t bankrupt me.”
I extend my middle finger towards him. “Now you’re asking for it.”
*** *** ***
“How come you took over the company?” I ask Clayton, shoving my hands into my coat pockets. The wind blows around us, the air frigid and freezing now the rain has passed.
He gives me a second glance before deciding to answer. “Dad isn’t well. He’s been trying for over a year to keep the station going, but he’s not getting better and the workload is getting higher.”
“I didn’t know he was sick. He’ll be okay though, right?”
He ducks his head, tucking his chin under the black scarf wrapped around his neck. “No. He was diagnosed with cancer five years ago and survived, but last year he went for a check up and it’s back, stronger and faster. He doesn’t have long. He’s been grooming me for a while to take over the business, but he got taken in a few weeks ago, moving the process up. He’ll be moved tomorrow to a live-in care home.”
Well, shit. I kind of liked the old guy. We come to a stop in the middle of the paved walkway surrounded by shops.
Reaching over, I rub his arm soothingly. His attention turns to my hand before coming back to me. “I’m really sorry about your dad. He’s a good guy. A hard arse. But… not everyone can be perfect like me.”
A small laugh slips free as he fixes his gaze on me in wonder. “You should have been me growing up. You think he was hard on you… he was harder on us. But he loved us. And we love him. It’s going to be hard.” He gulps, unable to meet my gaze.
“Is that why you fucked up my podcast and then disappeared after two segments?”
He chuckles, turning back. “I’ll be doing it every week. The statement was published yesterday. If I want to keep on top of things, I can’t be sitting in on every one of your segments.”
Tilting my head to the side, I mull it over. “You should give Chrissy and Morgan from the 2nd floor more work. Chrissy has wanted more responsibility in the company. And if you ask me, her diploma is wasted on that place without more work.”
“And Morgan?”
I shrug. “He sits around drinking tea for ninety-two percent of his work day. He needs to earn his wages.”
“Okay, I’ll look into it and move some stuff around.”
I lightly shove him in the shoulder. “I’m not just a pretty face.” I pause, narrowing my eyes. “But this doesn’t mean you can spend more time pissing me off in my studio.”
Laughing, he gestures for me to go ahead. “Noted. Now, which of these shops would you like to go in and how long does it, um, take you to pick an outfit?”
I want to kick the fucker in the shin, but because he just told me his dad is dying, I can’t. I can’t play him up. He already looks pale, probably imagining the amount of time he’s got to sit inside a shop.
Before I can even take a breath, two people ahead catch my eye, and I panic. My breathing speeds up as I turn, shoving Clayton away from me. He was meant to go inside the shop, but when he begins to fall, I want to cry. I walk off when he hits the beautician stand, knocking a display of gift boxes all over the floor.
Crap!
I speed-walk faster and paste on a smile when Charlotte and Aunt Kayla wave.
“Hayden,” Charlotte calls out.
If it had been any other female in my family, I’d be good, but Charlotte doesn’t know how to keep a secret, or be subtle.
And I don’t need my dad being… well, being him.
Aunt Kayla looks like she’s trying not to laugh, and I know she saw me push Clayton. But there’s no way I’m addressing it, not now. Not ever.
“What the hell, Hayden?” Clayton yells, just as Charlotte and Kayla reach me.
I groan, glancing up to the sky.
“Hi Charlotte, Aunt Kayl
a,” I greet, pretending not to have heard Clayton.
“You just knocked me over,” he snaps, walking up beside me.
“Do you know him?” Charlotte asks, staring in awe at the man beside me.
“He’s homeless. I’m feeding him.”
“He doesn’t look homeless to me,” Aunt Kayla announces, waggling her eyebrows at me.
I scrunch my nose up, glaring at her. “He is,” I snap.
“Homeless?” he asks, anger from the push gone and replaced with confusion.
Charlotte claps her hands in excitement. “You aren’t Satan like the others call you, you’re an angel. I’m so proud of you.”
Clayton chuckles beside me, so I shove my elbow in his stomach.
“Thank—Wait, they call me fucking Satan?”
“Why am I not surprised,” Clayton mumbles.
Charlotte’s forehead creases, and her lips form a pout. “Yes, all the time. Though it’s mostly the men in our family. Your dad was telling mine about you finding his sweet stash this morning.”
That is it.
“How dare he accuse me. Did you know?” I ask, looking at my aunt.
She tries to hide her smile but it’s useless. “I tuned them out, but there was something about a lock box and code.”
He can’t prove it was me. He can’t. And I’m offended he’s even accused me. I’m fed up of getting the blame, even if I did do it.
“And video,” Charlotte adds, pushing strands of her fiery red hair out of her face.
“Video?” I gulp, feeling the blood drain from my face.
Well, that explains the twenty-three missed calls when I woke up.
“Yeah, he said he had video evidence.”
“Oh God,” I groan. “I’m so screwed.”
Clayton clears his throat, bringing everyone’s attention to him. Charlotte smiles, reaching for her pocket and pulling out a five-pound note. “Do you need more food? Not that you look like you’re starving. Oh God, that was rude. I mean, you just seem to be in good shape.”
I burst out laughing, causing her to stop her rambling. He gently puts his hand up, declining the money. “I’m not homeless.”
I can feel his accusing gaze on me.
Charlotte looks from him to me before taking a step back. “He’s not another creeper, is he?” she whispers-yells.
“Yes,” I tell her.
“No,” Clayton yells. “I’m—”
“He’s helping with Faith’s hen party,” I blurt out, turning to glare at him. When he opens his mouth, I elbow him in his side again. “Aren’t you?”
“Um, yes?” he questions, and I roll my eyes.
His expression is comical right now, looking at me like I’m crazy.
“You found somewhere for the hen and stag party?”
“The stag party?” I ask Aunt Kayla, clearing my head. No one mentioned the stag party to me.
“Yes, she wants a joint one now. Beau’s friends might not make it down in time, so she said to do it as a family and friends thing, somewhere they can go at the same time.”
Stuck on the spot, I stare at Clayton with wide eyes. “Um, Clayton had some ideas, didn’t you?”
His mouth opens and closes, his face a little pale. “Um, Mingles.”
“Mingles?” Kayla questions, her forehead creasing.
“Yes, it’s um… it’s a club?”
I face him once again, glaring. “Are you asking or telling us?” I snap. A bloody club. It’s a hen and stag party, not a Friday night. We could have just done this ourselves. “What kind of planner are you?”
He holds his index finger up to Kayla and Charlotte, before gripping my arm and pulling me away for a second.
“Why are you acting like I’m actually a party planner? I’m not,” he grits out, smiling at Charlotte and Kayla, who are watching expectantly.
Grimacing, I shrug. “Sorry. I forgot and got carried away. But what in the hell is Mingles?”
He throws his hands up. “I don’t know,” he yells, before wincing. He looks over his shoulder again for a second before stepping closer, leaning down to whisper, “It’s a new place Date Night wants us to check out. It doesn’t have the seal of approval from their company board, so they like to get feedback before any checks are done.”
“So what is it? It sounds like a strip club.”
He glances back over his shoulder. “I’m not sure. Don’t forget, I’m not a bloody party organiser. Just go with it. You can always change the destination after.”
“Every year we all go away together, or try to, and once in a blue moon, someone fucks up. Usually one of the lads. If you fuck this up for me, you can kiss your job goodbye. Because I will bury you,” I warn him, before turning to Kayla and Charlotte with a bright smile. “It’s going to be fantastic, guys.”
“Yes, you’ll love it. It has everything. A friend of mine owns Cabin Lakes. I can get him to rent you some cabins for a cheap price. If he has any spare.”
I turn to glare at him. What happened to changing the destination? Now they’re going to hear the cheap price and want to go.
Charlotte looks up from her phone. “Does it have men stuff?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Clayton nods. “I know Dean had a mud track put in on the new field he purchased. It’s meant to be really popular with the locals and tourists.”
“So, um, we should get going. Let’s make sure it’s everything Faith and Beau are looking for before we say anything. We should keep looking.”
“Faith said yes,” Charlotte announces, ruining any hope I had to change this. “It’s in two weeks. She asked if you could book places for everyone, including Jaxon and four extra rooms for any last-minute arrivals. There are a few who still aren’t sure if they can make it.”
“Me?” I squeak, feeling my breathing speed up. I don’t have the patience for this shit. And if it’s crap, it’s me who will get the blame. “Why me? Shouldn’t we keep looking?”
“Yes, you. Lily is trying to calm her down, so she can’t. She’s getting stressed, so she just wants it booked now.”
Kayla’s expression softens into a sad smile. “She’s missing her grandparents.”
Guilt hits me like a truck. “Well crap, of course I will.”
Her glove-covered hand reaches out, patting my arm. “You’re a good girl.”
“Thanks,” I tell her, deflated.
I flick my gaze to Clayton beside me, thinking of ways to pay him back for this.
Charlotte steps forward, hugging him. “You’ve saved the day. Thank you.”
He looks at me, his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw clenched. He doesn’t hug her back, looking so tense I want to laugh.
“It was all Hayden,” he tells her, gently pushing her away.
She turns her smile to me. “I can’t believe you said he was homeless, silly. I know you wanted it to be a surprise, but you could have told me. If me and Scott get married, you can organise mine.”
Kayla, looking panicked, watches her daughter for any signs of joking. I know she won’t say anything about it being too soon for that kind of talk. Not yet anyway.
“I’m amazing, I know,” I rush out. “Well, we’d best be going. Loads of organising and all that.”
“Have… fun,” Kayla comments, her eyes twinkling.
“I’ll get Hayden to send me your email address to finalise everything. If I have time, I’ll send you a thank you cake,” Charlotte tells Clayton.
He smiles smugly, like he’s won the jackpot. “Thank you.”
“Maybe—”
“That’s so sweet of you,” I tell Charlotte, interrupting Kayla. I grin over the perfect revenge.
We exchange goodbyes, and once they’re gone, I turn to Clayton, narrowing my eyes on him. “You,” I snap, pointing my finger at him, “can buy me some new shoes too.”
CHAPTER SIX
Stepping into the pouring rain, I race across the car park to Nightingale Care Home, which is part-owned and run by Tracey, my boss
. My fingers ache from trying to keep the umbrella from blowing away.
Stepping under the alcove of the front entrance, I shake the droplets of rain off the umbrella before putting it down. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful I made it, even if I am soaking wet.
The car park is surprisingly empty, due to the unrelenting rain. It rains a lot—it is England—but this is just maddening. It felt like shards of glass hitting my skin it was coming down that hard. The wind isn’t any better. Rubbish litters the roads and pavements from where it’s blown bins over, leaving destruction everywhere. The news had reported on the radio, saying trees had fallen, blocking roads.
If Tracey didn’t desperately need me here, I wouldn’t have risked driving into work at all. But some of her nurses and careers had called in to say they couldn’t make it, either due to blocked roads or from floods.
Wanting to get out of the cold, I reach for the door, but my phone ringing in my pocket has me stepping back to see who it is. Sliding it out of my pocket, my heart races at the name flashing across the screen. Rob is a colleague of Beau’s at the station. I met him at Beau and Faith’s engagement party last year. He’s ten years older than me but is still a good-looking guy. And although we didn’t hit it off romantically, we did get on as friends.
Before the night had ended, he had offered to help if I ever pursued my dream of reporting. I didn’t get a degree in English to waste it on love advice.
So, when I asked him for information on the increase in burglaries in the area, he was happy to stick to his word and keep me informed. I want to do an article or a segment on ways to prevent your home from getting broken into; cheap and efficient ways to get security, and what to do if you ever find yourself in the position of being in the house while it’s being burglarised. People imagine what they’d do if there was an incident, like your house getting broken into, a fire, or your child being snatched, and you can plan as much as you’d like, yet nothing can prepare you for the real thing. I want to give people advice on how to pull yourself out of that panic, the frozen state, and then give them steps on what to do next.
“Rob, what you got for me?”
Hayden (A Next Generation Carter Brother Novel Book 4) Page 7
