‘I do not want to be found. I want to forget I ever met you.’
‘Liar.’
Paul presents himself behind the bar, eyeing my companion warily. ‘You okay there, Eleanor?’
‘Fine.’ All that held air in my lungs billows out. ‘He’s just leaving.’ I want to crawl into my wine glass and drown myself, especially when my mum hurries over. Oh my days, how am I going to explain him?
‘Eleanor, aren’t you going to introduce me?’ she asks, putting her hand out to Becker.
I watch as he takes it gently and shakes. I’ve lost the ability to speak, so I resort to watching helplessly as Becker bamboozles my mother with one of those disarming smiles and a flash of his sparkling angel eyes. ‘I’m Becker Hunt,’ he declares softly. ‘Eleanor’s boss.’
Mum breathes in her surprise and darts her eyes to me. The arsehole. I want to correct him, but my ability to talk doesn’t look like it’s returning anytime soon. I know what she’s thinking, and she would be right. I’ve managed to evade her questions but, thanks to Becker, I’m not going to be sidestepping them any longer.
‘Well, what a surprise,’ she gushes, nudging me in the shoulder. ‘Eleanor has told me so much about her new job, but she never mentioned you.’
Becker hums, and I contemplate ordering a bucket of wine so I literally can drown myself. ‘She likes to keep things business,’ he muses quietly, pulling my startled eyes to him.
‘And what about you?’ Mum asks cheekily. I’m suddenly swinging my incredulous look her way. She totally ignores my discomfort. What is she doing?
‘Mum,’ I prompt, but she flat out ignores me, too intrigued by the handsome man in our local. ‘Mum, it’s time to go.’
‘Well?’ Mum asks again, and I look at Becker, silently passing a message across, begging him to not feed her interest.
He looks at me and smiles, thinking hard about what he might say. It worries me. Then he sighs and returns his attention to my mum, who is still waiting for an answer. ‘I don’t want to keep it business, Mrs Cole. I want to be more than her boss.’
I should drop-kick his cheeky arse back to London. What the hell is he playing at?
Mum looks set to faint, her face going red with the pressure to keep her squeal of delight contained. ‘Get me another wine, Paul,’ she calls, patting the back of Becker’s hand. And I just stare at him, at a loss. ‘Eleanor, darling.’ Mum winks, her lips twisting into an excited smile. ‘You little bugger, you,’ she whispers, flouncing off to get her wine, lapping up the attention as she goes.
My body goes limp on my stool, and Becker leans into me, pushing his lips to my ear. I only just restrain my whimper as he breathes shallowly. ‘I’m going to wait outside for you, princess. If you’re not there in ten minutes, don’t think I won’t come back and collect you myself.’ He kisses my cheek gently and squeezes my knee. ‘Time’s up.’ He stands and walks away, fastening the button of his suit jacket as he goes. And what do I do? I join the rest of the women in the pub, including my mother, and admire his perfectly formed backside as he saunters away.
He pulls the door open and looks over his shoulder, finding my eyes. ‘Stop looking at my arse,’ he murmurs, and then exits, leaving behind a load of potty female hormones dancing around the bar.
‘What a darling!’ Mum sings, stumbling over to congratulate me. ‘Oh, Eleanor, he’s perfect.’
I wince as she hauls me in for a hug. Perfectly sinful, that’s what he is. ‘You don’t know him, Mum,’ I sigh, breaking her hold.
‘So tell me, then.’
I give her a look, one tinged with worry, and thumb over my shoulder. ‘You saw him.’ How pathetic. I can’t come up with something better than that? Actually, no, I can’t. Unless I tell her the truth. Which I can’t.
‘So why have you come running back to Mummy?’
‘Because . . .’ My words fade, and I frantically search through my mind for the plausible explanation I need. ‘I can’t get involved with my boss.’
‘That doesn’t seem to bother him.’ She clucks my cheek. ‘He seems wonderful.’
She’s known him for all of three bloody seconds. Good God, if only she knew. I really can’t share, and it has nothing to do with my signature on Becker’s NDA.
She rubs my arm comfortingly. ‘Did he cheat on you?’
‘No,’ I blurt out, and immediately regret it. I should have said yes. That would have swayed Mum’s opinion of Becker perfectly. She saw what I went through after what David did to me.
‘Not every man will betray you, Eleanor.’
I adopt something close to a sulky face and turn towards the bar. What does she know? He already has, albeit it in a totally different way. ‘Another, please, Paul,’ I grumble. ‘A big one.’
‘Coming up,’ he agrees easily, swinging into action. ‘Want something stronger?’
My ears prick up. ‘You got an anxiety pill?’
Paul laughs, gesturing to the top shelf. ‘Take your pick, sweetheart.’
My eyes drift from one end of the top shelf to the other. Yes, I should get plastered so I can’t physically walk outside to him. ‘Any recommendations?’
‘Limoncello,’ he suggests, pouring me a shot and passing it over. I neck it at once and slam the glass down, wincing, before I’m quickly baulking at the sight of my mother leaning across the bar kissing Paul.
‘Mum,’ I cry, watching, totally horrified, as she eats Paul alive. ‘Oh God.’ I help myself to the bottle of limoncello and pour another, throwing it back, then immediately another, anything to keep me busy. I come up for air and find she’s still at it, so I carry on downing the sweet stuff like it’s going out of fashion, hoping it might scrub my brain at the same time. Oh my days, this is too much. Trying to accept that she’s found a new lease of life is one thing, even if I’m struggling like hell. Watching her gobble the face off that new lease of life is a whole different story.
I’m all out of limoncello.
‘Mum, please.’
It takes Paul to detach my mother from his shirt and push her back onto her stool, and she doesn’t make it easy for him. ‘Sorry, Eleanor.’ Paul laughs, a little embarrassed. I want to run away but lurking outside is another brain burner.
I signal to a bottle of limoncello behind the bar, but quickly snatch my hand back, thinking I could do with something even stronger. ‘Actually, give me a Jäger.’
Paul fulfils my request quickly, sliding it across the bar saloon-style. I catch it accurately and throw it back, gasping. ‘Perfect.’ I cough, wiping my mouth. I just want to get absolutely shit-faced and forget . . . everything.