Page 24 of Just a Taste
‘Just peachy,’ I say brightly. ‘There is, however, one teeny tiny thing.’
Hoxton hesitates. ‘Go on…’
‘I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we seem to currently be in the middle of quite a dangerous storm.’
His lip twitches. ‘I had noticed.’
I grip the fabric of my coat and squeeze tightly. ‘Then maybe you’ve also noticed that, with my car not working, and the lack of Uber and taxi services in the area, I don’t currently have a way of getting home. Which isgreat because I am supposed to be going to my gran’s for Christmas tomorrow…’
The thought of not making it to Gran’s causes a knot to form in my throat suddenly.
Hoxton’s entire face drops, like he’s finally realised where I’m going with this. As if this hasn’t been the only logical conclusion for the last ten minutes.
‘I—’ He swallows. ‘I hadn’t noticed that.’
‘So,’ I start, ‘and this is just a suggestion, but—’
Hoxton doesn’t wait to hear whatever my suggestion might be. Instead, he abruptly stands up from his sofa, reaches for his own phone resting on the coffee table, and begins pacing his living room.
‘What’re you—’
Hoxton holds a finger up to silence me and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to reach for one of the cushions on his sofa and fling it in his direction.
He’s the only thing currently standing between you and that blizzard, I remind myself as my fingers inch towards the nearest cushion.
‘I need a car,’ Hoxton says suddenly, omitting any kind of greeting to the person he’s currently on the phone to. I can’t hear what the person on the other end says but, in response, Hoxton’s brows furrow deeply in the middle. ‘I’ll triple your fee.’ Another deep furrow, this time accompanied by a scowl. ‘Fine. Consider it quadrupled. Though this isprice-gouging, and I will be— Hello? Hello?’ Hoxton stares at his phone, eyes wide in disbelief. ‘I think he just hung up on me.’
From the way he says it, I don’t think anyone has ever hung up on Alexander Hoxton before.
‘Listen, I appreciate the effort, but—’
He holds up another silencing finger and I grip the nearest cushion.
Stop it, Noelle! Or do youwantto freeze to death?
‘I need a car sent over in the next twenty minutes,’ Hoxton says to the next person he tries. Their response is muffled slightly, but I do manage to hear what is clearly a snort of laughter before, once again, Hoxton is left staring at his phone in disbelief. ‘Again?’
This time, I don’t bother interrupting. I leave him to it as he punches in another number, and turn my attention to the large television on the wall. The news is still playing on mute but there’s a banner beneath the presenter that reads:MET OFFICE ISSUES RED WARNING DUE TO BLIZZARD.
Shit.
Why does it feel like I’m not going to be able to get out of here anytime soon? Though I suppose I should be looking on the bright side in that it’s a good thing my car broke down in Hoxton’s drive. Just the idea of being stuck on the side of the motorway while the blizzard rages around me andI freeze to death in my car is enough to make me give silent thanks to Hoxton and his blissfully warm home.
Over the next fifteen minutes I alternate between watching the muted TV, where they’re cutting between choppy video clips of the blizzard currently battering the country, and sneaking glances at Hoxton. His attempts to try to get me a car out of here haven’t gone anywhere, and it’s clear he’s becoming increasingly irritated with each abruptly ended call.
If my situation weren’t so dire, I might laugh. Someone as rich as he is probably isn’t used to being told no, and I don’t imagine there are many things he’s come across that he can’t throw a fat wad of cash at to make disappear. Unfortunately for the both of us, a blizzard that brings the entire country to a standstill seems to be one of those rare occasions.
I’m not sure how many frustrated calls Hoxton makes – I lose count after the sixth one – but he eventually puts down his phone and sinks into his sofa with an expression on his face that suggests one of his nearest and dearest has just died.
‘No luck?’ I ask innocently.
Hoxton narrows his eyes at me. ‘Evidently not.’
‘Well, thanks for trying.’ I clear my throat and try to inject as much faux cheer into my voice as I possibly can, given the circumstances. Like we’re two friends having a perfectly normal conversation and the sense of dread I feel pooling in the pit of my stomach simply isn’t there. ‘And I’mglad we’re both finally on the same page about the reality of our current situation.’
Hoxton looks at me like I’ve just slapped him across the face. ‘Our?’
‘Yes,our,’ I say firmly. ‘And I hope you know that I would never, ever, in a million years, ask this of you under any other circumstance unless it was a true emergency.’
