‘Is there a problem?’
‘Not unless you count the fact that my aunt is a dick,’ Chloe muttered.
As Faith died another thousand deaths, Adam glanced at Chloe. ‘I believe that’s anatomically impossible,’ he said mildly.
‘Not in her case.’ Chloe snatched up her canvas bag. ‘Whatever. This place sucks. I’m out of here.’
Instinctively Faith moved to follow her, but Adam’s large hand wrapped around her upper arm, stopping her in her tracks. ‘Leave her. She’ll calm down.’
Leave her? She tried to wriggle free. ‘I can’t. She’s my niece. She’s upset and I don’t know where she’s going.’
Adam’s hold stayed firm. ‘She’s fifteen, not five. She won’t come to any harm. Besides, she wants you to run after her. Don’t play her game.’
‘Since when did you become an expert on teenagers?’
He let go of her arm and gave her a small smile. ‘I was one once.’
Gazing up at his lofty height, powerful shoulders, rugged face, it was hard to believe. ‘I was one, too, but I can’t remember ever behaving like that.’
‘I can.’
She waited for him to elaborate, but of course he didn’t. She was starting to realise Adam wasn’t the chatty sort. Then again, for a while last night he’d seemed to really open up. ‘You dyed your hair red, did you?’
Another smile, slightly wider this time. ‘I grew it long instead, though for the same reason.’
Jeez, getting information out of him made getting blood from a stone look like child’s play. ‘And that reason was?’
‘I wanted my parents to take notice of me.’
‘Did it work?’
He grunted softly. ‘Not in the way I’d hoped. I suspect the same is happening with Chloe.’
Faith sighed, thinking about her troubled niece. ‘I don’t understand. Chloe’s parents love her to pieces. This is really cutting them up. We were hoping a change of scenery, a bit of responsibility, would help bring back the Chloe we used to know. Now I’m not so sure.’
‘With respect, Chloe’s issues are your sister’s problem, not yours.’
Adam watched as astonishment spread across Faith’s face.
‘Chloe’s my niece. She’s family, so her problems are our problems.’
He felt a stab of frustration, though for the life of him he didn’t know why, because none of this was his business. ‘If you let her turn away potential guests, it’s quickly going to become your problem.’
‘I am aware of that, thank you.’ She gave him a sharp look. ‘You’ve already hinted you aren’t close to your parents. I wonder, do you have any other family, Adam?’
For a split-second he felt a tightening of his chest. A difficulty in taking a breath. Don’t go there, he willed himself. ‘Not really, no.’
‘Then perhaps that’s why you don’t understand.’ Annoyance, or perhaps it was anger, flashed across her face. ‘If you had family you were close to, you’d know you’d do anything for them. Anything.’
He heaved out a sigh, wondering how a man who liked to keep himself to himself, had managed to wade knee-deep into someone else’s business. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just sense how important this hotel is to you.’
It took a few moments, but slowly the tightness left her face. ‘It is, and you’re right. I need to have a chat with Chloe about how she interacts with guests.’ She let out a deep breath and straightened her shoulders, giving him a smooth smile. ‘All of this is really unprofessional of me, sorry. Was there anything I can help you with?’
He felt dismissed, which was stupid because he was her guest, not her friend. ‘What’s the best station for a train to Manchester?’
‘They go direct from Oxenholme. It takes about an hour and quarter.’
Though he waited for it, hoped for it, there was no follow-up question asking why he was going to Manchester. He’d clearly pissed her off, big time. Feeling out of sorts, he nodded his thanks and headed for his car, glad to be getting out of the hotel for a while. As he scrunched across the gravel, Adam took a look over his shoulder at The Old Mill. Undulating roof tiles, whitewashed walls that were no longer linear. It wasn’t slick, or smooth like a modern building but friendly, inviting. It stood out not just in looks but in character.
A highly attractive hotel, with bags of personality, he mused. Much like the owner.
Adam stood in the doorway of the pub Damon had suggested meeting in, and frowned. Bloody hell, the guy couldn’t have chosen a noisier, more crowded place to have what was supposed to be a quiet drink together. After buying himself a pint from the bar – one advantage of being tall, he was always served quickly – he forced his way through the raucous mass to the last free table. Next to the gents. Nice.
Taking the seat furthest from the toilets – served Damon right for being late – Adam shrugged off his sodden coat (it was another beautiful day in the North of England) and took a swig of his beer. It said something for how sad he was that he’d agreed to spend an afternoon of his holiday having lunch with a guy he saw far too much of when he was at home. Damon was seeing a client in Manchester, and when he’d texted asking if Adam fancied meeting for lunch, Adam had thought, why not? Even for a loner like him, there were only so many damp, solitary walks he could manage.
Damon looked harassed when he finally appeared, after threading his way through the packed pub.
‘Haven’t these people got work to go to?’ his friend muttered as he shook off his coat, spraying water liberally within a two-foot radius.
‘I suspect these people are having lunch.’ Adam thrust the bar menu at Damon. ‘About time we did the same.’
Damon grunted, his sandy hair flat against his forehead. ‘I’ve time for a quick pint and a bowl of chips with you before I have to scurry back to convince the most pernickety client on the planet – thanks for dumping him on me, by the way – that his blasted glass ceiling needs at least one support strut or the whole damn thing will crash down round his ears. ‘These guys,’ he continued, waving behind him, not giving Adam a chance to refute the “dumped” allegation. ‘These guys are having a proper Christmas office party lunch. The type where you eat, drink and exchange rude jokes with your co-workers all afternoon before falling asleep in a cab on the way home. Something you, me and the delightful Anita never do because you always slink off on “holiday”.’ Damon signalled inverted commas with his fingers.
For the first time since he’d sat down, Adam took a proper look at the people around him. Many wore suits, a few sported silly paper hats. Laughter. There was a lot of laughter. Gaudy tinsel ran across the top of the bar, paper chains – for God’s sake, who still made paper chains? – were hung from the ceiling. ‘I can go,’ he muttered. ‘Leave you eating your chips by yourself.’
Damon huffed. ‘Jeez. I see a few days away hasn’t mellowed you.’
‘Blame the season.’ Adam stared moodily into his pint. ‘I’ll be back to my usual happy self in January.’
‘Emma called the office.’
At Damon’s blunt statement, the pint he’d been drinking shook in Adam’s hands, slopping beer onto the table. ‘What did she want?’
‘What do you think she wanted? To talk to you. Invite you for Christmas.’
Panic shot through him. ‘What did you tell her?’
‘The truth. That you were on holiday.’ Damon fixed Adam with a steely glare. ‘You’re being a right prick to her.’
Adam didn’t know what to say to that. For once Damon was right. ‘I know,’ he muttered quietly.
‘Then why do it? I understood why you wanted to avoid her that first year. Even the second, but if you ask me it would do you a world of good to see her now.’
‘I’m not asking you.’
Irritation flared in Damon’s
usually calm, even-tempered eyes. ‘Fine. Go on treating people who care about you like shit. See where it gets you in the long run.’
Adam hung his head. Jesus, what was he doing, being such a git to the one man who’d kept him sane these last few years? ‘Sorry.’ He gave Damon an apologetic smile. ‘And thanks for dealing with Emma. Though you’re wrong in thinking she’s inviting me because she cares.’
‘And you’d know that how, exactly? You decline her invitations with a text. You haven’t returned a single one of her calls.’
Cold tendrils of dread, of fear, wound their way through him, tightening round his chest in a way he’d become all too familiar with. ‘I don’t need to speak to Emma to know what she must be thinking.’
Damon’s expression turned more sympathetic. ‘You know I’ve got your back mate, always. Just …’ He exhaled, twisting his pint glass round on the table. ‘Just consider why she hasn’t given up on you. Why she’s still trying to make contact.’
Feeling too choked to speak, Adam nodded. He’d spent far too long considering it. Far too long remembering the last words they’d spoken to each other. I think you need to leave, she’d told him in clipped tones. As if he’d been a stranger turning up to her house. No, worse; an uninvited, unwanted caller.
Her reason for wanting to see him had to come from unresolved anger, blame, pity or duty. None of them sat well with him.
‘So, how’s the hotel?’
Adam clutched gratefully at the change in topic. ‘Good.’ He had a sudden vision of Faith, standing outside his door with her arms full of fluffy dogs. ‘Surprisingly good.’
His friend did a double-take. ‘Bloody hell, Adam. Beneath that beard, I can actually see your lips moving. You’re almost smiling.’
‘Piss off.’
Damon continued to study him, a contemplative look entering his eyes that made Adam distinctly twitchy. ‘You’ve met someone, haven’t you?’
‘Hell, no.’ Yet even to his ears his denial sounded too forceful, too defensive.
A grin broke out across Damon’s face. ‘A guest?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Jason’s in his mid-thirties, so his sister is likely to be around that age, give or take a few years.’
‘Faith’s twenty-seven.’ Stupid time to remember that. Stupid.
Damon spluttered with laughter. ‘Well, well. Who’d have thought it? It’s been a long while coming, but a woman has finally caught Adam Hunter’s eye. What’s she like then, this twenty-seven year old hotel owner?’
He felt trapped, caught between wanting to talk about Faith and the feelings he’d been experiencing, feelings he thought he’d never experience again, and not wanting to say anything. Not wanting to tempt fate, to start raising his hopes, when actually her interest in him was only as a guest.
‘She’s very nice,’ he said briefly, cringing at the use of the limp term to describe such an energetic, attractive, bubbly personality. ‘Can we order the food now? I’m starving.’
Damon acquiesced, though as they ordered, and the conversation moved on, the glint in his eyes told Adam he wouldn’t be hearing the end of this.
Chapter Six
Six days before Christmas
Working in her office the following morning, Faith was both surprised and relieved to hear Chloe plonk her bag down on the reception desk. She knew from Hope that her niece had gone straight home yesterday, only to slam her bedroom door behind her and not venture out for the rest of the day.
Closing the document she’d been working on, Faith walked out to see her. ‘It’s good to see you back.’
Chloe looked nonplussed. ‘Am I not supposed to be?’
Faith smiled, giving Chloe’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. ‘You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. What would you like to do today?’
In a gesture Faith was becoming familiar with, Chloe shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘We have a man due in shortly who’s interested in holding a New Year’s Eve party here, so I’m going to need you on reception for a little while.’
‘Is it the guy who phoned yesterday?’
‘Yes.’
Chloe gave her a hostile look. ‘Didn’t scare him off then, did I.’
‘No, you didn’t.’ Beneath the bolshie glare, the “couldn’t care less” attitude, Faith was sure she saw a hint of relief. ‘Chloe, is everything alright? You don’t seem happy.’
Chloe blinked, blue eyes vivid against her pale face and bright red hair. ‘I’m fine.’
Because it was obvious Chloe was far from fine, Faith touched a hand to her cheek. ‘I think there’s something troubling you and I’d like to find out what it is, so I can help.’ With a sigh, she let her hand fall. ‘But I’m not going to press it. You know I’m here if you need me.’
Chloe didn’t reply, just fiddled with the straps of her bag, avoiding Faith’s eyes. She ached to see her niece so clearly unhappy, yet not prepared to talk about it.
‘I thought we should make up some information packs for the rooms,’ Faith said into the silence. ‘I’ve already been asked where the nearest station is, and the nearest gym. Guests will find it useful to have information like that to hand. Staff, too, because not all of them will be locals. The new deputy manager joining next month comes from Bournemouth.’ When Chloe again remained silent, Faith pressed ahead. ‘Would you like to put a pack together?’
Chloe picked at her green nail varnish. At least it matched the green tights she was wearing today. She’d teamed them with a loose-fitting checked shirt and a short black skirt that might have fitted her a few months ago, but was now in danger of ripping at the seams. ‘Is that to stop me answering the phone and talking to guests?’
Faith briefly debated how to reply. ‘It’s true we need to have a chat about how you go about that, yes, but I also thought you’d enjoy doing something different for a change. Besides, I’ll still need you to help me out when I’m not around. So, what do you think?’
‘I guess.’ The phone in her hand buzzed and Chloe glanced down. Suddenly her face became even paler and her bottom lip started to tremble.
‘What is it?’ Faith asked gently.
‘Nothing. Just a bunch of bitches.’ She pushed the phone into her bag and once again Faith’s heart went out to her.
‘Girls from your school?’
‘Yeah.’
When nothing else was forthcoming, Faith tried a different tack. ‘What about those friends of yours, Alice and Tamsin, wasn’t it?’
‘Not my friends any more,’ Chloe mumbled.
‘Why not?’
Chloe huffed loudly. ‘Leave it, Aunt Faith.’
She was loathe to, not now she was making progress, but tears welled in Chloe’s eyes and Faith knew the last thing her not-quite-a-child yet not-quite-an-adult niece would want was to cry in front of her. ‘Okay, let’s change the subject.’
Chloe wiped at a stray tear. ‘I saw that guy on the way here.’ When Faith frowned, Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘You know, the one who’s staying in the suite. Big guy, beard, ripped.’
‘You mean Mr Hunter.’
‘Pretty sure you called him Adam.’
‘Yes, Adam.’ Faith couldn’t believe it; her cheeks were growing hot. Damn, when was the last time she’d blushed – and over a man?
Chloe gawked. ‘Oh-em-gee. You’ve got the hots for him, haven’t you?’
It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, but Faith took one look at Chloe’s ear-to-ear grin and she started to laugh. If it took embarrassing herself over a man to bring a smile to Chloe’s face, she was happy to oblige. ‘He is rather attractive, yes,’ she murmured, casting a quick eye around her to check nobody could hear her.
‘For an oldie. He’s out there running if you want to cop a look at his legs.’
As if on cue, the front door cre
aked open and a windswept, flushed and slightly sweaty Adam Hunter strode in. Faith couldn’t stop her eyes from flickering down to the legs Chloe had mentioned. Long and powerful with a dusting of dark hair over well-defined muscle. She forced her eyes upwards, over his flat stomach and up to his broad chest where the heavy muscles of his pecs strained against the snug, long-sleeved running top.
Desire whooshed through her, making her blood feel thick and overheated. Her mind was a confused muddle of hormones; a teenager once again, in the throes of experiencing her first hot crush. She knew she was gawping, knew that Chloe was giving her a non-too subtle grin, but Faith couldn’t seem to snap herself out of it. ‘Good morning,’ she finally managed.
Adam wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘Morning, Faith.’ He nodded over to her niece. ‘Chloe.’
Think of something to say. ‘Been for a run?’
Beside her Chloe snorted. ‘Duh. What gave it away?’
‘The shorts?’
Her niece giggled. ‘Thought you’d notice those.’
Faith willed herself not to blush as Adam glanced curiously between them. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Fine, thank you.’ She nodded for good measure, hoping to God she didn’t look like one of those nodding dogs that people put in cars. ‘Isn’t it a bit cold for shorts?’
He glanced down at his legs, which gave Faith another excuse to do the same. ‘I warm up pretty quick when I run.’
‘Guess that means you were right,’ Chloe whispered, giggling, as Adam started to walk towards his room. ‘He is pretty hot.’
Faith felt her cheeks burn again. Stupid to start crushing like this on a guest. Stupid. ‘Umm, Mr Hunter.’ He halted, that rugged face looking perplexed and, if she’d read him correctly, disappointed. ‘Adam,’ she corrected, suddenly aware he might still think she was annoyed with him from yesterday. He’d been trying to support her, she’d realised belatedly, not criticise her. ‘I’ve asked Chloe to put together an information pack for the rooms. Could you spare her a few minutes this morning to go through what you think should go in it?’
A Little Christmas Faith (Choc Lit) Page 5
