Tula was loving working at the Mariscombe House Hotel. Moving down to St. Carys had definitely been the right thing to do, to the extent that she shuddered at the thought of how it so easily might not have happened. If she hadn’t been caught out by Facebook, she could still be in Birmingham now.
But she had been caught out and she was no longer there; she was here instead. Doing a job she adored, in a gorgeous place, with friendly people.
And, cough cough, a very good-looking boss.
Okay, officially Dot was her boss, but she didn’t mean Dot. Having a crush on Josh Strachan just made working at the Mariscombe that much better. It was a definite bonus knowing he was around, unexpectedly hearing his voice, looking up and catching sight of him as he passed by.
Every single time she saw him, Tula’s heart did a little double beat. Sometimes he stopped for a few words and sometimes he didn’t, but simply finding herself on the receiving end of a momentary glance, a nod of acknowledgment, or a brief smile brightened her day. She’d even found herself acting as if he were watching her when he wasn’t, just in case he secretly was. It was extra thrilling, like being in a film, aware of the cameras but pretending they didn’t exist.
And here he was again now, heading out onto the terrace in jeans and a green-and-white-striped shirt, talking rapidly into his phone and swinging his Ray-Bans from his free hand. Skippety-skip went Tula’s heart as he nodded his head in greeting, ended his call, and came over to the tables she was laying before dinner.
“Hi, where’s Dot?”
“The Nelligans’ taxi didn’t turn up in time, so she’s given them a lift to the station.” Shaking out a freshly laundered cloth in an attempt to billow it into the air before letting it settle gracefully over the table, she misjudged the angle of the shake and ended up covering her own head instead. Ach.
“Here, let me.” Josh solemnly lifted the white cloth off her and helped her smooth it over the tabletop. “How’s the job going? Settling in?”
“Yes, thanks. Everyone’s lovely.” Especially you.
She didn’t say that last bit, just thought it while polishing a wineglass with a vivacious flourish. Just like a girl in a film.
“What time do you finish your shift?”
The sun was shining on his face; she could see the glints of gold in his dark brown eyes and the tiny lines at the outer corners of the eyelids. His mouth was beautiful, so cleanly edged it looked as if it had been carved, and there was dark stubble peppering his jaw…okay, probably best to stop staring.
“Six. But I can stay later if you want me to.”
“That wasn’t why I was asking. Seeing Sophie tonight?”
“No, she’s got a job. I was just going to have a quiet evening. Well,” Tula amended, “apart from Sophie, I don’t really know anyone else to socialize with yet.”
“Ah, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll make friends soon enough.”
“Unless you’d like to come out for a drink with me?” The words popped out of her mouth almost of their own accord. Tula was as startled to hear them as Josh evidently was. Then again, why not? Carpe diem and all that.
“Well…”
“Just a drink to keep me company, a friendly gesture, that’s all… It’s a beautiful sunny evening; better than staying in and watching a load of rubbish on TV. Not too much to ask, is it?” Oh help, and now she was burbling—almost as impressive as flinging a tablecloth over her own head.
Josh hesitated. The next moment, amazingly, he said, “Okay then. We can do that if you want. How about seven o’clock? I’ll meet you out here on the terrace.”
Oh my God oh my God oh my GOD…
“Seven. Perfect.” It wasn’t that perfect, what with only giving her a single measly hour in which to do herself up, but never mind; she’d just have to go at warp speed. Throwing him a dazzling smile, Tula said, “See you then!”
***
Adrenaline. Excitement. Time for the sixty-minute makeover. Fizzing with excitement, Tula ignored the hunger pangs in her stomach and jumped into the staff quarters’ shower. If it was a choice between eating and getting herself Josh-ready, there was no contest.
Shower, hair, teeth, legs, scent, nail polish, makeup, redo hair, more makeup, pale yellow sundress, high heels, low heels, flip-flops, medium heels, pink espadrilles. And one last coat of mascara for luck.
Tah-dah, all done with one minute to spare. And giant squirmy butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Tula took one last look in the mirror, then left her tiny room and raced down the back stairs.
“Wow, you look nice.” Carol, one of the older waitresses, gave her an approving nod. “Doing something special?”
Ha, just a bit. Unable to keep such enthralling news to herself, Tula feigned a casual air and said, “Just off out with Josh.”
Carol did a gratifying double take. “Who? Our Josh?”
Tula nodded proudly. “Drinks first, then we’ll probably go on somewhere for dinner.” Okay, that bit hadn’t actually been agreed on, but it had to be a possibility, didn’t it? She was hoping so anyway.
“Lucky you.” Carol, who was in her fifties and married to someone whose nickname was Shrek, said enviously, “He is lush.”
“I know.” Feeling a fresh burst of butterflies, Tula said, “Wish me luck! I’ll tell you tomorrow how it went.”
***
By eight thirty, the jug of Pimm’s was empty and Tula had a suspicion she’d drunk most of it. Then she belatedly remembered Josh was drinking San Pellegrino, which meant she’d sunk the whole lot.
It was the fruit, basically. She was hungry, so she’d eaten the slices of apple and cucumber and orange by way of a meal replacement. And drunk the accompanying punch, obviously. Well, it was a hot evening. By the time they’d reached the Mermaid Inn she’d been thirsty. And being in the company of Josh Strachan—finding herself on the receiving end of his undivided attention—had been so nerve-racking, she hadn’t even realized she was knocking the stuff back until… Hmm, well, until it was all gone.
But they’d been having such a good time. It had been thrilling as well as nerve-racking; Josh was smiling and asking her loads of questions about herself—which was good because it meant he was interested in knowing all about her. And in turn she’d told him stories of her childhood, those tricky teenage years, the disastrous boyfriends…then had hastily backtracked for fear of sounding like a complete loser and regaled him with tales of wild parties, fantastic vacations, and completely lovely boyfriends who’d adored her.
In return she’d learned details of Josh’s own upbringing, despite having already heard the gist of it from the other girls working in the hotel. Essentially it hadn’t been the happiest of childhoods, which only served to massively ramp up his level of attractiveness. Then he’d moved on to the stays in Cornwall with Lawrence and Dot, interspersed with his time at university. By the time he’d finished telling her about the crazy years in Hollywood and even crazier experience managing Go Destry, the jug was miraculously empty.
Spotting her glance in its direction, Josh said, “Ready for another drink?”
“I probably shouldn’t.” Tula was feeling light-headed and probably hadn’t been the easiest word to get her tongue around; it had come out sounding like prolly. Oh, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Nor did she want him to think she wasn’t enjoying herself in his company. If he got the idea into his head that the evening wasn’t a success, he might end it and take her home.
In the unromantic sense.
Which definitely mustn’t be allowed to happen. This was their very first date, after all. Whether or not he was aware of it.
“Okay, just one more. I’ll have a glass of wine this time.” Tula beamed enthusiastically. What the heck, there were worse things in the world than being a teeny bit tipsy on a first date.
“Red or white?” said Josh.
“Wed.” Oops, bit of a Freudian slip. “Red.” She emphasized the choice with a sensible nod, but really, they were getting on so well together. She’d been doing that thing the dating experts always told you to do, mirroring the other person’s gestures and casually making physical contact at opportune moments. And it was actually working brilliantly, for once in its life; it was as if there were some kind of magical connection between them. She sat in a haze of happiness, elbows on the table and chin resting on her hands, as she watched Josh make his way back inside the pub—whoops, elbow off table. Oh well, never mind, look at how gorgeous he was…
***
At the bar, Josh was wrestling with his conscience. Yes, he’d had a plan, but it certainly hadn’t been this. Initially, when Tula had invited him to have a drink with her, he’d been caught by surprise. But they’d gotten off to a rocky start last week and she was turning out to be an incredibly hard worker. A mixture of guilt and sympathy had made him unexpectedly say yes, coupled with the fleeting idea that if he were a bit kinder to Tula, he might perhaps go up a notch or two in Sophie’s estimation.
In his mind he’d pictured Tula and himself sharing a couple drinks out on the terrace back at the hotel. In his mental image, she’d worn a casual shirt and shorts, and maybe a dab of makeup.
Instead, she’d bounced out to meet him this evening done up to the nines, and said brightly, “Let’s go somewhere nice!”
Which hadn’t been his intention at all.
They’d ended up at the Mermaid. Whereupon, instead of asking for half a lager or a glass of wine, Tula had spotted the sign for Pimm’s, said, “Ooh, Pimm’s. How lovely. Let’s get a jug of that,” and promptly proceeded to glug her way through it.
She was now, predictably, three sheets to the wind and for some reason copying everything he did. It was bizarre, like when small children found it funny to repeat every word someone else said, except Tula, as far as he could tell, didn’t appear to be doing it to be funny. When he rubbed his jaw, she rubbed her jaw. When he picked up and idly turned over a beer coaster, she did too. He’d started leaning forward and raising his eyebrows in a quizzical fashion, just to see if she’d mimic him. And she had. He had no idea what was going on, but it had kept him entertained for the last hour.
Anyway, moral dilemma. Of course he didn’t want to take advantage of a girl who’d had too much to drink. Then again, when he’d earlier attempted to bring Sophie’s past into the conversation, Tula had changed the subject. But with her tongue now loosened by alcohol, this could be a golden opportunity to find out just what it was that Sophie was hell-bent on not telling him.
Which could possibly be regarded as underhand tactics, but he was doing it for the right reasons, wasn’t he? Basically, he needed to know.