Nick shook his head. ‘I’ve got an Italian TV interview in Rome, sadly, or I’d take you up on that offer. But let’s have dinner when I’m back. If nothing else I can remind you what you’re missing.’
To the casual observer it sounded as though Nick meant her old lifestyle but Sam knew it was a sneaky reference to the no-strings nights they’d spent together a number of times. She glanced sideways at Ruby, who was looking back and forth between her and Nick with amusement. ‘Don’t mind me, Sam,’ the older woman said, with an expressive shrug. ‘I’d be all over him myself if I was ten years younger. But you might want to pay some attention to Joss. If he gets any greener he’ll burst into leaf.’
Frowning, Sam followed her gaze to where Joss stood glowering at Nick, his expression thunderous. She swore under her breath. It looked as though she was going to have to initiate that conversation sooner than she had planned.
Sam waited until Nick had set off home and Nessie had gone to bed before she tackled Joss. ‘Good work tonight,’ she said, opening the till to remove the drawer pleasingly stuffed with notes.
He didn’t look up. Instead, he carried on unscrewing the sparklers from the pumps. ‘I suppose.’
She stepped nearer, trying to catch his eye. ‘I mean it. Thank you for everything you’ve done to help us. We’re very grateful.’
Joss grunted. ‘I’d like to see your boyfriend lumping barrels around the cellar. Acting’s not exactly a manly job, is it?’
Sam bit her lip; she knew for a fact that Nick worked out every single day and had abs you could strike a match on. The social media spike during the episode of Smugglers’ Inn where he’d stripped down to his breeches had almost crashed Twitter. But perhaps now wasn’t the best time to mention that. ‘Nick isn’t my boyfriend.’
Joss’s lips tightened. ‘Whatever.’
She took a deep breath. ‘Look, Joss, I think we need to get something straight. I’m your boss, you’re my employee. Which means my relationship with Nick or anyone else I might fancy is nothing to do with you.’
‘So you do fancy him then?’ Joss said.
‘It’s none of your business,’ Sam replied, fighting to keep her tone even. ‘Just like it’s none of mine who you fancy.’
‘Except it is,’ he said and looked up. ‘It’s your business if the person I fancy is you, right?’
‘Nothing is going to happen, Joss,’ she said quietly. ‘Stop it now before you get hurt.’
He continued to gaze at her, his eyes a deep and stormy blue. If the circumstances had been different, Sam wouldn’t have thought twice about taking things further – she might even have seen him more than once. He wasn’t her usual type but there was something in him that caught her attention and held it; not the way he looked, not the way he acted, something she couldn’t quite identify. Something that sent her good intentions about nipping things in the bud flying out of the window.
He seemed to read her mind. Sam wasn’t sure whether he stepped forwards or she did but suddenly he was a lot nearer. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘I think it’s worth the risk.’
Her skin tingled at his touch. She gazed upwards, lost in the sea of blue. He’s going to kiss me, she thought, and her flutter of panic was drowned in a flood of anticipation. But he didn’t. Instead, he backed off and busied himself loading the last of the glasses into the dishwasher, leaving Sam staring after him. What just happened? she wondered, forcing her breathing to slow. How did I get from saying I didn’t fancy him to wanting him to kiss me? And how the hell am I going to stop it from happening again?
Chapter Twelve
The phone rang just as Sam was passing. Juggling three jumbo bags of party poppers and an armful of candle holders, she snatched up the handset. ‘Hello, Star and Sixpence?’
Seconds later, she banged it down, just as Nessie appeared from the bar. ‘Another cold caller?’ she asked sympathetically.
‘Third one since yesterday,’ Sam sighed, rearranging the party poppers before they tumbled to the ground. ‘It’s driving me nuts.’
Nessie hesitated. ‘You don’t think . . . ?’
‘What?’ Sam said, wondering if her sister was thinking the same thing she’d been thinking – that the calls were more than just random coincidences.
‘Nothing,’ Nessie said and she flashed a smile of reassurance. ‘Anyway, I came to tell you that Henry’s in the bar. Whatever you said to him, it worked.’
‘Good,’ Sam said, pushing the silent call out of her mind. She hurried out into the bar and summoned up her brightest smile. ‘Hello, Henry. Thank you so much for coming . . .’
Joss walked into the public lounge and stopped dead.
‘Have you lost your mind?’ he asked, staring at the painting Sam was hanging on the wall.
‘Don’t worry, it’s for one night only,’ Sam said, standing back to stare at the seascape and then straightening it. ‘I had to eat a monster slice of humble pie and offer a regular Art Night but it was the only way I could think of to get around Henry. Never let it be said that I don’t admit when I’m wrong.’
Joss’s lips quirked but he kept whatever thought he’d had to himself and gazed around instead. ‘And whose is that one?’
Sam glanced across at the still life watercolour. ‘No idea. One of Henry’s friends’, I assume. Think of it as an added bonus for tonight’s party – start the New Year with some new art, kind of thing. An unmissable opportunity to pick up some undiscovered talent before the artist goes stratospheric.’
Joss threw her an incredulous look. ‘And you’re expecting people to buy that?’
‘Maybe,’ Sam shrugged. ‘People make odd choices when they’ve had a drink or two. It could work in Henry’s favour.’
‘I suppose it could work,’ he conceded. ‘Well played, boss.’
Sam only detected the faintest hint of mockery behind the last word. He’d kept a professional distance between them since the night before, which Sam refused to admit bothered her. His feelings might have been hurt but it was all for the best, she decided. Especially since it didn’t appear she could trust herself around him.
‘Thank you,’ she said, lifting the last painting and carrying it to another wall. ‘Let’s hope the beer goggles do their job tonight.’
At five minutes to seven, Sam and Nessie stood behind the bar, gazing at the empty pub. The afternoon had been frantic, a whirl of preparation and last-minute tasks. The fridge was full of party food, the playlist was loaded with crowd-pleasing tunes to set the mood before Kathryn’s band took centre-stage, and the champagne was on ice. This was the calm before the storm, Sam thought. At least she hoped it was.
‘Are we ready, then?’ she asked, with a glance at the locked door.
Her sister nodded. ‘I think so. Time to open up and see if the residents of Little Monkham have forgiven us.’
She moved towards the door but Nessie caught her arm. ‘Listen, Sam, I just wanted to say thanks for everything you’ve done here. I know it wasn’t your choice to come to Little Monkham and it’s been harder for you than it has for me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘So thank you.’
Sam smiled. ‘Hey, we make a good team. And it’s been fun.’ She reviewed her last sentence and pulled a wry face. ‘Well, not fun exactly, but interesting. And don’t worry about me, I’m fine. Getting used to it, anyway.’
Nessie paused. ‘There’s something else I wanted to say,’ she said slowly. ‘I know I said we had to be careful as employers but I think I might have let the responsibility go to my head a bit. This is your new beginning too and I need to start trusting you more.’
Sam blinked. This was the last thing she’d been expecting Nessie to say. ‘O-kay. What brought this on?’
‘Something Owen said,’ Nessie replied. ‘And I don’t want to stand in the way of you being happy here, so if you want to take things further with Joss then you should. I know you’re not into commitment but really, not all me
n are like Dad. They don’t all leave.’
Sam was silent. Was that the reason she’d never let herself get involved with anyone beyond a couple of dates? So that they never got the chance to leave her? Nick was different – they both knew it was purely fun, with no strings attached – but there’d been others, too many whose numbers she’d blocked when they’d tried to get in touch again. She’d told herself it was a freedom thing but had she really been insulating herself against the pain of being abandoned all over again?
Nessie cleared her throat. ‘And if things don’t work out – well, cellarmen are easier to replace than sisters.’
Sam understood then; Nessie had seen how restless she’d become and was holding out a lifeline, a way to encourage her to put down roots for the first time in her life. ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ she said carefully. ‘Thanks.’
‘Okay,’ Nessie said, smiling. ‘Shall we do this?’
Reaching out to pull her sister into a tight hug, Sam smiled too. ‘Yes. Let’s do it.’
By ten o’clock, the party was in full swing. Sonic Folk had just begun their set with a cracking Mumford and Sons cover, and there was plenty of toe-tapping that Sam was sure would turn into dancing before long. Several of Henry’s seascapes had been sold. Of course, some of the buyers were actor friends of Ruby’s, who were under strict instructions not to let on that she’d primed them over which paintings to buy. But not all of them were.
‘Wonders will never cease,’ Joss said, nodding at a rapturous-looking Henry. ‘He’s actually sold one.’
‘Three actually,’ Sam said, straight-faced. ‘Credit where credit’s due.’
Joss patted the beer pump in front of him. ‘I’d better test the strength of this stuff tomorrow.’
Owen arrived at the bar, Luke at his side. ‘Another pint of the Bishop, please, Joss,’ he said, handing over his glass. ‘And an orange juice for Luke.’
‘Dad,’ Luke protested loudly. ‘I wanted a Coke.’
Owen glanced down, eyeing his son’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. ‘I think you’ve had more than enough for now. You don’t want to crash out before the fireworks on the green, do you?’
‘No,’ Luke sighed, then brightened. ‘Although Nessie said I can sleep here if I do. I wonder if Elijah will be on the prowl.’
Owen grimaced, then turned to Sam. ‘I think the entire village might be here. Nice job.’
‘Thanks,’ Sam said, smiling. ‘It was a real team effort, though. Team Star and Sixpence.’
Joss placed a foaming pint on the bar in front of Owen. ‘Just Franny to go and the boycott will be well and truly busted.’
Owen nodded at the doorway. ‘Speak of the devil.’
Sam’s gaze flew to the door. Sure enough, Franny was stood there, gazing around as though there was a bad smell under her nose. Squaring her shoulders, Sam plastered a welcoming smile on her face and began to weave through the crowd.
‘Franny how lovely to see you,’ she said once she reached the door, injecting as much warmth as she could into her voice. ‘Are you in the market for some new art? Or can I tempt you with the house cocktail, a Silver Sixpence? It’s gin and elderflower with a drop of moonlight to give a gorgeous silvery shimmer.’
Franny glanced around, wrinkling her nose at the bright lights. ‘I don’t really hold with all that fancy rubbish.’
Sam caught Nessie watching from across the room and knew she’d be holding her breath. ‘We’ve got plenty of the more traditional drinks too. Joss has done a great job with the cellars – the beers are getting rave reviews from the real-ale drinkers.’
‘Is that so?’ Franny sniffed, firing a hard look Joss’s way. ‘It’s nice to see him working at something other than his love-life.’
Sam bit back a grimace. ‘I wondered if you might like to give a talk one evening in the new year,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘About the history of the village and the pub’s place at its heart. You are the resident expert, after all.’
There was a short silence, and Sam could tell that Franny was struggling not to feel flattered. Then the older woman gave a terse nod. ‘I suppose I could do that.’
‘Fantastic,’ Sam enthused, as though Franny had just agreed to address the United Nations. ‘Let’s compare diaries soon and sort out a date. Now, what can I get you to drink?’
Franny’s eyes met hers and Sam thought she detected a flicker of something – maybe humour? – in their frozen depths. ‘I think I’ll try a Silver Sixpence, if you don’t mind. They sound like just my kind of thing.’
An hour later, there was dancing. Kathryn and the band had whipped everyone into a frenzy with some fast-paced covers that included everything from Bellowhead to Beyoncé. Sam was impressed. Booking the band without having heard them had been risky in the extreme but it looked like Nessie’s instincts had paid off – the villagers were loving Sonic Folk, mostly because the band members seemed to be just as much fun as the dancers. Kathryn was beaming from ear to ear as she played. On the makeshift dancefloor, Ruby had kicked off her stilettos to strut her stuff barefoot to ‘Single Ladies’ with Martha and most of the other women, while Luke and the other children were having a dance-off of their own. Over in one corner, some of the men had challenged Owen to an arm-wrestling. As far as Sam could tell, he hadn’t lost a round yet. Even Franny was swaying to the infectious tunes, although Sam thought the number of Silver Sixpences she’d put away might have something to do with it too.
Henry was holding court in one corner, his regimental tie loose and his face flushed, and Sam suddenly felt guilty that she’d been so dismissive of him when she’d first arrived, although not guilty enough to accept his stilted request for the pleasure of a dance as she passed by collecting glasses. ‘Some other time, Henry,’ she replied, hurrying for the safety of the bar. ‘It’s all work, work, work tonight.’
At eleven-thirty, Sonic Folk wound up their set and Sam teed up her playlist full of guaranteed floor-fillers. Nessie rang the bell and announced that the bar was temporarily closing. ‘There’ll be complimentary champagne to see in the New Year but if you want anything else, come and get it now.’
There was a minor stampede, mostly the men ordering pints but Sam noticed Franny ordered another cocktail and Ruby lined up a double whiskey. Once everyone was served, Sam began to lay out champagne flutes. Nessie started to fill them but Sam touched her arm. ‘Joss and I can do this,’ she said, smiling at her sister’s red cheeks. ‘Why don’t you take a break?’
Nessie opened her mouth to argue but Sam cut her off. ‘Owen’s glass is empty,’ she said meaningfully. ‘Why don’t you see if he wants another pint?’
She and Joss worked side by side without speaking for a moment. Then they both reached for the last champagne bottle and her hand brushed his. She felt goosebumps crackle on her skin. ‘Sorry,’ she said automatically.
‘Don’t be,’ Joss said. ‘We both know you’re desperate to get your hands on me.’
Sam sighed, determined not to let him get to her. ‘It was an accident, Joss. When are you going to stop kidding yourself?’
Joss glanced across at her. ‘I’m not the one who’s living a lie.’
Sam froze. He couldn’t know the reason she’d fled London. No one knew, apart from Sam and Nessie. She forced herself to take a deep breath and lowered her voice. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You, refusing to admit you’re interested.’
‘There’s nothing to admit,’ Sam countered, hoping her face didn’t give her away. On the other side of the bar, the revellers continued to party, oblivious. ‘We’ve been over this, Joss. I’m not interested in you that way.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘So you won’t be tempted to kiss me when the clocks strike midnight, is that what you’re saying? You’re not secretly wondering what it would be like?’
‘It doesn’t matter one way or another,’ Sam ground out. ‘It’s not going to happen.’
‘Then it’s your loss,’ Joss said wi
th rueful shake of his head. ‘But sooner or later, you’ll have to face the truth, Sam. The question is whether I’ll still be interested.’
Picking up an empty box, he headed for the stairs. ‘I’ll get some more champagne.’
Sam stared after him for a moment, infuriated and amused in equal amounts. He really was the most insufferably arrogant man she’d ever met and yet – she saw a lot of herself in him. He wasn’t as ambitious as her but striving too hard was one of the reasons she’d ended up in Little Monkham. He was very good at his job, though, and for all his laid-back attitude she knew he was driven. And he was certainly tenacious.
Sam thought back to this time last year. She’d been at a rooftop bar overlooking the Thames, watching the fireworks explode over the river with – well, not with friends, because she worked too hard to have those, but with people she knew and liked. A lot of champagne had been drunk and she’d gone home with someone whose name she’d probably known at the time but hadn’t remembered the next day. At the time it had felt liberating but now, looking back, it seemed empty and meaningless. And suddenly, she realised why the occasional night she’d spent with Nick had been so memorable – apart from his amazing body and blissful technique, it had been good to wake up next to someone familiar. Maybe Nessie was right – maybe there was something to be said for giving her feelings a chance to grow. And there were feelings there for Joss – mostly lust but behind that there was something else, a shoot of something that she could either nurture or uproot . . .
Glancing over her shoulder to check no one was watching, Sam hurried to the cellar door. Joss was standing at the bottom of the stairs, filling the box with champagne.
‘What if you were right?’ she said, the breath catching in the back of her throat. ‘What if I was thinking about kissing you?’
Joss lowered the bottle he held and turned to stare at her. ‘Then I’d be a very happy man.’
‘You wouldn’t gloat and tell me you told me so?’ Sam said, her pulse starting to race as she walked down the stairs.
Snowdrops at the Star and Sixpence Page 8
