Page 37 of The Home Grown
Chapter Eight
BETTSY
I pacethe pavement outside the salon, practically wearing a groove in the paving slabs as I try to get through to a local taxi company. I guess this is a by-product of a busy Saturday night.
I’m about to hit re-dial when the door to the salon squeaks open, shifting my attention to Ellie as she slips out onto the street wearing a coat over her fitted work tunic.
I’m not sure if it’s my vow of celibacy or the fact that I’m still as attracted to her as I’ve always been, but I check her out. The streetlamps shine down on her and I’m drawn to the curve of her waist and?—
I snap out of my daydream when she says my name. And I mean, it’s rare that anyone calls me Mike or Michael day-to-day, but I sort of like the way she does.
“Yeah?” I say, shoving my phone away.
“Thanks.”
“For?”
“Apologising. You’re right. I had always imagined my wedding day … and it wasn’t that. I guess I was taking my anger out on you.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Are you going to be okay getting home?” she asks.
“I’m trying to get a cab. I need to get back to my folks’ house and see if my dad could take me to the station in the morning or something. I didn’t think it through, if I’m honest. I guess … why change the habit of a lifetime?”
She gives me a tentative smile, like she’s not sure how it’ll land.
“I’d offer to take you, but I’ve had a drink, and I’ve got a flat. I tried to change the tyre myself, but I couldn’t get the bolts undone and … never mind.”
I guess this explains why she’s here.
“And you didn’t think to call that guy you’re seeing?” My tone comes out a little more bitter than I intended. “Don’t tell me he didn’t come to your rescue.”
Her eyes widen, then she clears her throat.
“It’s still early days—I mean, I didn’t want to concern him.”
My heart sinks. But what gets me the most is I’mbothered.Why the hell am I bothered?
“I’m sure he’d be happy to help. Most guys take it as a win. Feeling needed and all that stuff. I would, anyway. Knight in shining armour…” I feel my cheeks heating. “Where’s your car key?”
“My car key?”
“Yeah. The key for your car.”
She rolls her eyes.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says. “I’ll get Greg, my brother-in-law, to swing by.”
She dips her hand into her pocket and pulls out her phone.
“Let me help. I’m here. Honestly, Kitch—I can get it swapped out in no time. You’ve got a space saver, right?”
“I—yeah.”
“Then pass me the key, please.”
She sighs then reaches into the other pocket of her coat, rummaging around before extracting a bunch of keys and handing them to me.
