Page 21 of Love Spell

Everyone settled as they looked up at him, finally listening.

“Three hundred miles from London or closer.No flights because I’m bringing a mountain bike.”

There was a yell from bike enthusiasts in the group, like Arthur and Haoyu, and a groan from the less athletically inclined, like Ranveer and Chandler.

Timo pointed to the men one at a time.“Maksim?”

“Mountains.”

“Ranveer?”

“Beach.”

“Haoyu?”

“Mountains.”

“Chandler?”

“Mykonos.”

“Shut up.Noah?”

“Uh… Paris?”

“Out of range,” Timo snapped.

“No it’s not.”

“Spencer, enlighten us!Driving — not as the crow flies.”

Spencer scrambled with his phone.“Two hundred and eighty miles by car.”

“New rule!Two hundred and fifty milemax.”Timo tipped out a few refills into shot glasses that were eagerly held up to him.

“Fine.Then mountains, I guess,” Noah had always wanted to see the Cotswolds, but in a room like this that felt like admitting he wanted to play miniature golf at a petting zoo.

“Arthur?”

Maksim cut in, yelling at Timo, “Just say where we are going, dickhead.You already know.”Maksim, who’d been with the same Russian company that first sent Timo over to work in London many years ago, and had joined him when he’d set up shop, could get away with calling Timo anything he liked.

“He’s right,” Dave chipped in.“You knew before you started asking!”

“But a good manager seeks the opinions of his team,” Timo told them happily.

“Can a good contractor get another refill?”More glasses were raised.

“That settles it.”Timo emptied the second bottle.“We’re going to Wales.Eryri Peak Resort and Spa, in the mountains, beach half-hour drive away, trails for the bikers, spa and Michelin-star dining for the sloths.We leave Friday.Back Sunday night.Five-hour drive, unless you know how to drive; then it’s three and a half.”

More laughter.

“I’ll drive.”Timo jabbed the empty bottle around the room from his towering perch.“Who else?We need … everyone coming?Two or three more cars?Spencer, confirm who all’s celebrating this fine milestone and make the booking.Who wants to share a room with Chandler?”

General hisses and boos and stomping feet.

“Sorry, sorry, I meant; who wants to share with Maksim?”

No one thought that was so funny, edging away from the six-foot-six, unsmiling Maksim, accompanied by much muttered swearing.

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