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It was clearly my day for unfortunate meetings. Mr. Gorgeous, and then Elaine, and now Nick Parrish.
He was entering one of the many cafés in this part of the city as I tried to walk past. “Caitlin. Great timing. Do you have ten minutes?”
He was my newest customer. I couldn’t say no.
I followed him into the French-themed café, my mouth watering at the sight of the patisserie. I’d been heading for the supermarket with the intention of buying some fruit, and now I had to sit here and stare at cream slices and almond croissants?
Nick ordered a mochachino and asked what I wanted. I tried to say chamomile tea—I did, really—but it came out sounding more like mochachino. How did that happen? I trailed behind him to a table, knowing that if he offered me a slice of mille-feuille, all razor-thin pastry and whipped cream, I’d say yes. God. I was so weak.
He smiled at me over the table and gestured toward the plate, to the array of petit fours he’d selected. “I’m glad I saw you,” he said. “I’m so pleased you could take my order. This party has been booked for weeks, but my P.A. left at short notice, and I’ve been scrambling to pull the details together. Your assistant said you were on holiday.”
“It’s not a problem.” Come on, Caitlin. Be professional. “It’s your wife’s birthday, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and she adores your cupcakes. She has no idea I booked your catering.” Nick slid the plate toward me. “I recommend the mille-feuille.”
The chance of me saying no was as likely as an iceberg floating in a frozen ocean in the depths of hell. I licked away the powdered sugar that clung to my lips, and hated myself.
I managed to get through the impromptu meeting. I knew Nick from my days working in IT. Our paths crossed when I project managed the implementation of a new accounting system for Parrish Insurance. He was a lovely guy and besotted with his wife. One day I’d find a man who loved me as much as he did her.
****
It was almost dark when I arrived back at my little rental cottage, but the rain had stopped, and the gale was reduced to a stiff breeze. I was starving—my usual state—but more determined than ever to be strong. The lettuce, cucumber, and tomato salad I planned for dinner would be delicious, and if I got my act together, I could go for a quick jog while there was some daylight left.
So much for that plan.
In the time it took to change into my exercise clothes and sneakers, the light disappeared from the beach. Running on the sand would be a dumb idea. I could go on the road, though. That was well lit and quiet at this end of the village. When I thought of all the cake I ate today, to say nothing of the mochachino, I had to move my ass.
Remembering my disastrous effort this morning, I decided to take it slow this time. I’d walk for a minute, jog for thirty seconds, and repeat until I reached the end of the road. If I was completely exhausted, I could walk back. It sounded sensible and doable, and I was filled with a surge of optimism. Not only would I be slim when Bruce saw me next, but I’d also be toned and fit. Take that, Pammy. I visualized her sharp face and swinging blonde ponytail, and imagined how she’d feel when Bruce told her he was still in love with me.
The walk-jog rhythm was okay for the first couple of iterations. Then somewhere behind me, I heard a woof.
Holy fuck. What if it was the girl with the giant dogs? My heart lurched, and I tried for a burst of speed. Next thing, I stubbed my toe on something and stumbled. The pavement was hard and knocked the air from my lungs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. Another woof sounded, closer, and the hound caught up with me. I knelt there, helpless and petrified, not daring to move. Dogs freaked me out. What if it chased me?
I shrieked. “Go away. Please leave me alone.” The words all ran into each other, but the dog stared into my face. Its mouth was open, huge teeth on show, and it shook its head, collar jingling.
“Gwen. Gwen. Come here.” Footsteps clattered toward me. “Naughty girl. Heel.” A hand closed around the dog’s collar and yanked it back. “I’m so sorry,” said the woman who towered over me. “Are you okay? She won’t hurt you. She’s over-friendly, but that’s all.”
I was perilously close to tears and didn’t trust myself to speak. I’d wait until the dogs left before I tried to move.
The woman made a clicking noise with her tongue. “Let me help you up. I’ll get my brother to take the dogs. They’re his, after all.” She turned on her heel. “Jas. Jas. Give me a hand, please.” Her voice rang out, and my embarrassment level rocketed.
“I’m fine,” I whispered.
“Nonsense,” said the woman. She sounded young, maybe my age. “I insist you come inside for a minute, while you get your breath back. We live right here.”
“Wassup?”
Oh no. I knew that voice. Smooth and sexy, it belonged to Mr. Gorgeous. As if I hadn’t been embarrassed enough today.
More footsteps approached, along with the click of a walking cane. “Hey. We meet again. What happened?”
I hung my head. I’d wait for them to leave, and then go back to my cottage. Crawl if I had to.
“Gwen happened. Will you take the girls, please?” The conversation continued over my head. “Come on, let’s get you inside.” The woman looped her hands under my elbows. “Can you lean on me?”
I found myself hauled upright, and I took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Really.”
The guy held the dog leads easily in one hand, and now the beasts were a few feet away, I felt safer. “Maybe you are,” he said, his voice sending delicious tingles down my spine, “but it’s my turn to offer you a drink, and Holly won’t be satisfied until she’s made sure you’re not hurt.”
“I don’t like dogs,” I blurted. “I mean, I’m scared of them.”
“No worries. I’ll put them in the yard. And then I’ll make some tea, and we can all introduce ourselves.” The guy—Jas?—led the dogs away, and I stared, unsure how to react.
“Now let me help you.” The woman didn’t look as though she’d take no for an answer, and arguing would take more energy than I could summon, so I went with her. I’d stay five minutes and not a second longer.