Page 16 of On Circus Lane

“Nah, you haven’t.”

“Yes, I have,” I say firmly. “I made a snap judgement about you. I’m usually right about these things.” I cross my fingers behind my back to negate the lie. “But this time I wasn’t, and I’ve been crappy.”

He stares at me for a second, his eyes bright. “Apology accepted,” he says gravely.

“Just like that?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? He holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Tom Wright.”

For some reason, I hesitate, and then, swallowing, I place my hand in his. I feel a shiver run through me at the contact, and his eyes seem to darken.

“Hello.” I clear my throat. “I’m Bee Bannister.”

He licks his lips almost nervously and then shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says hoarsely.

Footsteps sound behind him, and Freddy walks past us. “Second baseagainin a service station,” he observes. “These places are your killing grounds, Tom.”

Tom glares after him, but I start to laugh, and he gives me a smile.

“Here’s to fresh starts,” I say boldly.

“Good plan.”

Chapter Three

BEE

Edinburgh is beautiful, its streets teeming with people. There’s a lot of construction and scaffolding going on, but the old buildings are lovely. They’re four or five storeys high, many of them a graceful Georgian design with grey-gold stone that’s darkened with the years. Christmas lights are everywhere, blinking gold and red against the grey sky.

Jack, Steven, Ivy, and I have taken turns sitting in the car’s front seat, and I’m glad my turn is happening now so I can get a good view of the city.

A wave of excitement hits me, and I crack the window open to feel the cool air. I’d only come on this holiday for Ivy, but being in a strange city is exciting.

I sneak a look at Tom’s long legs and his hand on the gear stick. I don’t usually notice hands, but his are lovely—long fingers and sexy veins. A large sports watch and a plaited leather bracelet adorn his wrist.

I examine his face while he’s focused on the road. It’s strong with high cheekbones and a lively expression. A good face. I catch another whiff of the cologne I’d smelt earlier. It’s woodsy with a hint of citrus. “You smelllovely.”

“Pardon?”

I realise with horror that I said the last bit out loud. “Erm, yes. Cities have such individual scents, don’t they?” I say quickly.

“Well, hopefully, it smells even nicer where we’re staying.”

“Is that off the Royal Mile?”

“Yeah, in the Old Town. I’m not sure exactly where, because Sal booked this place, but I know the area. I worked here a lot last year.”

I’m curious about his work and want to ask loads of questions, which isn’t my usual tactic with men. I prefer them to take a revolving door role in my life. Lovely to see them coming towards me, take a brief pause, and then whirl onwards and out again. But I’m on holiday, so maybe a different approach is fine.

“Did you say you’re a quantity surveyor?” I ask. “They work in the construction industry, don’t they? Something to do with managing the costs?”

He nods, coming to a stop at some traffic lights. People surge past us. It’s lunchtime, and the streets are busy. “Yeah, I’m a contractor’s quantity surveyor, which basically means I get my hands dirty. I’m usually in a portacabin wearing PPE and a hard hat while overseeing a project. And I try to avoid using the portaloo.”

I wince. “I was at a festival once where someone overturned one. It was on a hill, and it was a bit like a game of real and rather disgusting dominos.” He snorts, and I grin at him. “So, what were you doing in Edinburgh?” I ask.

“The company I worked for was here.” The lights turn green, and he sets off smoothly.

It’s a direct contrast to the way I drive, which is jerky and erratic. I once asked Ivy if it was normal not to remember any steps of a journey while driving, and she refused to let me drive her anywhere again.

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