Page 107 of Christmas at Sturcombe Bay
A small bubble of laughter escaped her lips. “I like the colours. And the new light fittings. I think it’ll work really well.”
“That’s good.” Oh, she liked his smile. “By the way, I was wondering if you would do me a favour?”
“Oh?” She was instantly wary.
“I’m getting a dog.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? You didn’t just say that to wind that woman up?”
He laughed. “Well, I did,” he confessed. “But then I thought about it and realised that, as I’m staying here, it’s the perfect opportunity. We always had dogs when I was growing up, and I miss having one around. So I got in touch with a rescue centre, and met a few of the dogs. They’ve done a home check, and I’ve an appointment there tomorrow afternoon to be matched up with one. The thing is, I’m afraid that when I see a pair of sad brown eyes gazing at me, I’ll just be a sucker. I need someone to make sure I’m sensible about it, pick the right one.”
She laughed outright at that. “You think I’ll be sensible?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I suppose . . .”
“Tomorrow afternoon? I could pick you up at around three?”
Three o’clock? She suspected that he had checked her shifts. She really ought to say no, but when he looked at her like that, all trace of reason and common sense flew straight out of the window. “Okay.”
“Good. I’ll see you then.” With a nod and a smile he strolled away.
Shelley let go of her breath in a sigh of exasperation at her own stupidity.
A moment later Jess emerged from the back office, one eyebrow arched in question. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Are you going with him?”
“How did you know about it?”
Jess’s eyes danced. “He asked me this morning what your hours were for the rest of the week.”
Shelley laughed, shaking her head. She had been right. He was the sort of man who always had a strategy. “So why don’tyougo with him?” she countered. “You’re much more sensible than me.”
“Why isn’t the moon made of blue cheese? Because it isn’t. And you’re not sensible if you let a good man like that slip through your fingers.”
* * *
A good man . . . Jess sighed, shaking her head. Wouldn’t it be nice to meet one of those? All she seemed to get were the arseholes.
Fortunately, the reception desk had been very busy over the past few days, so she was able to use that as an excuse to avoid Paul whenever he was around.
Several times she had seen him chatting to that girl and her husband as though nothing had happened. Clearly he had absolutely no conscience at all. She’d been tempted to tell the husband exactly what she’d seen.
And just to add to her bitter mood, everyone was getting into the Christmas spirit, singing along to the Christmas songs playing on an endless loop in reception until she wanted to scream, tear down the garlands and kick the Christmas tree over.The air was filled with the aroma of mulled wine and Chef’s splendid Christmas pudding.
At least the group was checking out today.
She was scrolling through the spreadsheet to ensure that all the details had been added correctly and any additional charges totted up when she spotted the girl out of the corner of her eye, with her husband. By the time they reached the desk she had a bland professional smiled fixed in place.
“Excuse me, is Mr Channing around?”
She glanced up, startled to see the girl smiling shyly at her — with her husband standing right there beside her. How barefaced was that?
“No, he isn’t.” Oops, that wasn’t her professional receptionist’s voice. “I’m sorry.” She forced a formal smile. “I’m not sure where he is at the moment.”
