“Thanks, Momma.”
I ruffled his hair again and left him to eat happily in the kitchen, then checked my phone. I had two messages—one from Christopher saying when he’d call that I confirmed, and another from a new number to me.
UNKNOWN: Is this London?
Uh…
ME: Yes. Who is this?
UNKNOWN: Thank God for that. I’ve texted two wrong numbers already.
UNKNOWN: Sorry, it’s Oliver.
Oh! Right. I’d given him my number. What an idiot.
ME: Oh, hi! I’m sorry, I forgot you’d be texting me.
OLIVER: It’s fine. To be honest, I should have probably signed my name. ;)
ME: There’s that too. What’s up?
OLIVER: Are you free tomorrow? I’ll be in town in the morning so can meet you for lunch if you’re free.
ME: I have no plans. I usually take it at twelve-thirty, but I have a little more freedom now I’m working solo.
OLIVER: Twelve-thirty works. Anywhere in particular? Somewhere quiet, I guess?
ME: I have an idea. Give me a minute.
I flipped the conversation to my chain with Holley.
ME: Any chance I can borrow the bookstore for a while over lunch tomorrow?
Her reply was instantaneous.
HOLLEY: When and what for?
ME: I’m interviewing Oliver but need somewhere quiet so I can record it.
HOLLEY: I can give you 45.
ME: Perfect. What time?
HOLLEY: 12.30 on the dot.
ME: You’re the best.
HOLLEY: Stop at Piper’s and get me a donut.
ME: Jerk.
HOLLEY: You’re welcome.
I quickly flipped back to the original message thread with Oliver.
ME: Can you meet me at Bookworm’s Books at 12.30 tomorrow? We have 45 minutes so don’t be late. I’ll bring sandwiches.
OLIVER: You’re bossy.
OLIVER: I’ll be there.
ME: See you then.
CHAPTER FOUR – OLIVER
RULE FOUR: PRETEND LIKE YOU WANT TO BE THERE.
“Why hasn’t she asked me yet?”
I looked up from my phone at Dylan. As the only other Brit living in the area, he was my closest friend. He was also the sole reason I was here—I was considering going home when my job in New York went tits up.
I was still considering going home, if I was honest.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like Montana. I loved it. But it wasn’t home, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel at home in America.
“She just happened to be at the class,” I replied. “I was there. It was spur of the moment.”
“She still could have asked me. I fixed her sink three weeks ago.”
“Are you... whining?”
“No, I’m just wondering why she doesn’t want my input. I’m Sebastian’s partner in it, for fuck’s sake.”
I laughed, locking my phone. “Fucking hell, Dyl. I don’t think she’s set anything up with anyone yet. Did you get the email with the release form from Fiona this morning?”
“Yeah, I got it. That’s when I started wondering what I’d done.”
“Nothing. She’s just not got through everyone yet. Bloody hell, what’s wrong with you today?”
Dylan rubbed his forehead. “Saylor’s a woman. There were no donuts this morning. Do I need to elaborate?”
I shuddered. He did not. I knew what that meant.
Saylor was also… Saylor.
She was spiky on the best of days.
“All right, well, I’m going to go and meet London. I’ll put a good word in for you.” I finished my cup of tea, got up, and clapped him on the shoulder. Dylan grumbled something, but there was no way he’d argue with me as he was about to interview for yoga instructors.
This sports center had everything.
I was going to leave him to his temporary misery.
Sometimes, it wasn’t all that bad being single.
The bookstore was a bit of a strange place to stage an interview, but if it was quiet there, then I wasn’t going to argue. She also said she’d bring food, but I wasn’t the kind of person to let that go without contributing.
I swung past the bakery for a box of cupcakes and headed for the bookstore. I knew enough to know that the car park by the café was the closest I was going to get to the shop, so I made the journey on foot.
I got there right before twelve-thirty like she’d said to and peered through the window. It was empty inside except for London. She was sitting at a large table area with sheets of paper spread out next to her, typing at her laptop. She looked so engrossed in what she was doing that I hated to disturb her, but I got the impression she wouldn’t be too happy if I was late.
Gently, I rapped my knuckle on the window. Her head jerked up, and her mouth broke into a smile when she realized it was me.
Dear God, the woman was bloody beautiful.
I had no business being attracted to the mother of one of my students, but I couldn’t see a situation in which I wouldn’t be attracted to her.
Yes, she was physically stunning with her dark hair, brown eyes, and a smile that could stop traffic, but she was just beautiful inside, too.
She always smiled. It didn’t matter who you were, she had a smile and kind word for you. She cared more than I thought any human being should care about anything or anyone, and she was always the first to offer to help out.
She was an inherently good person.
London opened the door with that same beaming smile still on her face. “Hi. Come on in.”
“Thanks. I brought cupcakes.” I held the box up somewhat awkwardly. “Since you were bringing sandwiches, I thought I’d bring dessert.”
“Ooh, and you went to see Piper! Her cupcakes are the best.” She closed the door behind me and led me to the table. “Take a seat. Let’s eat, then we’ll talk after. Do you mind if I record it?”
“Video? Or just voice?”
“Just voice.” She tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear and smiled, this time almost shyly. “I’ll take notes as we talk, but sometimes I miss things or I need to clarify points, so the recording helps.”
“Not a problem.” I sat down a couple of chairs away from her.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I made a few different sandwiches.” She rummaged through a picnic cool bag and pulled out several foil-wrapped subs. “There’s tuna and cucumber, cheese and tomato, ham…”
“Tuna’s great,” I said, fighting back a grin. “You could have asked.”
“I know, but by the time I realized I hadn’t asked you, it was too late.” She shrugged and handed me one that had a fish drawn on top in green pen.
“You’re quite the artist.”
London’s cheeks flushed. “I forgot what the tuna was called and all I could find was Leo’s pens.”