Page 15 of On Circus Lane

“It wasn’t just that.” I look around and hesitate. “He looked right through me.”

“Oh, babe.” She pats my hand. “I know why that bothered you, but honestly, rudeness is sixty percent intent, and I really don’t think he meant to be unkind. He was upset about being locked out of his house, and I don’t think he even registered most of the people at the bar.”

I wince, and she kisses my cheek. It’s one of the curses and perks in life to have a friend who knows me inside out. I wouldn’t have it any other way, though.

“I think this holiday might do us both good,” she says thoughtfully. “We need to meet new people.”

“Oh, please don’t saythat,” I say faintly. After she chuckles, I say, “I’m going to nip to the loo, and then I’m going to get him a drink as a peace offering.”

“That’s a good idea.” She sucks in a bolstering breath. “And I will stay here and keep Steven busy.”

“Ask not for whom the bell tolls,” I say, getting up and leaving her chuckling to herself.

Ten minutes later, I edge my way carefully through the crowds in the service station, carrying a cup of hot chocolate and a sticky toffee muffin. I dodge two children running straight atme and give a wide berth to a man dancing to a slot machine’s music. He looks and sounds like he’s been on a twenty-four-hour bender, and I’m momentarily distracted by his dance moves. When I manage to turn away, I walk into a solid object.

“Ouf!” I abruptly lose my grip on the stuff in my hands. The muffin falls on the floor, and the hot chocolate goes everywhere.

“Fuck!”

I widen my eyes, knowing with resignation who I just spilt a drink on. “You,” I breathe.

Tom winces, pulling his jumper away from his body. “Me.”

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry.” After setting the now-empty hot chocolate cup on a nearby table, I dig into my pocket and grab the napkins I was given in the coffee shop. “Get this off,” I urge, tugging at Tom’s jumper. “Off.”

He raises his arms and lets me pull the soggy jumper off. I immediately raise his T-shirt and anxiously assess his skin for scalds. All I see is seemingly acres of gorgeous olive skin and tight muscles. “Um,” I say dreamily, wiping him with the napkins just in case.

I realise I’m basically feeling him up when his hands stop mine. “Um, it’s good that you’re not burnt,” I say in a much brisker tone. I look up to find him watching me. His eyes are a storm-washed grey, their expression bewildered. “Sorry,” I say again. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you sure you’re okay?”

He blinks. “I’m fine. I’ve just never got to second base in a service station before.”

“Really?”

He narrows his eyes for a moment and then shakes his head. “Nah. I have actually done that.”

My lip twitches and then I nod thoughtfully. “It’s good to embrace all opportunities in life.” I look at the sodden bundle of knitwear in his hand. “Sorry about your jumper.”

“Why? It’ll wash.” He takes the wet napkins off me, throws them in the bin, and then pulls his T-shirt down. I spare a second to mourn the disappearance of those abs and when I meet his gaze again, he grins. “It’s a good job it was Costa, though. They put so much cream in their hot chocolate it’s practically cold anyway.”

He’s being so gracious, considering how rude I’ve been, and I feel ashamed of myself. Before I can tell him how sorry I am, he gives me an anxious smile, and says, “I think I need to apologise to you, Bee.”

“Why?”

He hesitates. “Well, apparently, I was rude to you last night.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah, I sort of think I was. In my defence, I didn’tmeanto be rude to you. My rudeness was directed at Steven, and he deserved it.”

I repress a smile. “Maybe you were a bit dismissive,” I admit.

“Was I? I’m really sorry.” He comes a little closer. “If a naked Santa Claus had tap danced through the pub, I wouldn’t have noticed. I was too focused on Steven.”

Now I really feel ashamed of myself. “I’m sorry too,” I say in a rush.

“You are? Why?”

“Because I’ve been shockingly rude to you.”

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