Page 26 of Animal Instincts
Joss looked up from handing over an extravagant hot chocolate to a customer, as Ryan stopped at the counter.
“Yo? What do you mean,yo? This is Devon, not New York.” Did they sayyoin New York? Joss wasn’t sure, but they certainly didn’t say it in Love’s Harbour.
Ryan didn’t take offence. Instead, he grinned and leaned across the counter.
“I’ve come to spread joy — and news about an event we’re putting on in the pub, a week on Saturday.” Ryan brandished a handful of flyers.
“What is it?” Joss took one. “‘Open Mic Night’. Isn’t it just karaoke dressed up in a posh frock?”
“No. This is going to be pure class. No half-cut pensioners warbling through Frank Sinatra numbers. Like your gran, when we did The Harbour’s Got Talent, last Christmas.” Ryan shuddered, and Joss couldn’t bring himself to blame him.
“You sure about that?”
“Hmm, not really. It’ll be good, because there’s a lot of musical talent around here—”
“Like you, you mean?” Joss poked.
“I can, as my nan says, hold a tune. And that reminds me, you’ve welched on your promise to keep your gran from doing my nan’s hair again. Have you seen her new colour? It’s now a sort of weird orange. Burnt Umbrage, as she called it. She’s even got matching nail varnish. Apparently, she got it done at one of your gran’s pampering sessions.” Ryan grimaced.
Jesus…Joss kept his face straight. He got what Ryan meant, he really did, but he couldn’t be openly critical of his gran. Or not much.
“Looks good.” Joss waved a flyer, shifting the conversation away from colour happy grannies. “But you’ll have to ask either Charles or Declan if you can leave them here. Charles is over—oh, and so’s Declan.”
Whatever it was the two men were talking about, neither looked happy about it. Joss turned away, not wanting to be caught staring, but neither man seemed interested in anybody but each other.
A moment later, Declan came over. His smile was as bright and confident as always.
“Sure, no problem,” Declan said when he read one of the flyers. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at Ryan. “Don’t tell me you’re singing?”
Ryan huffed. “No, I’m not because I’m going to be working behind the bar. There’s already a lot of interest. And it’s free. Nan’s going to put out roasties and mini sausages.” He said it as though it clinched the deal. It probably did, Joss reckoned, as Ryan’s nan’s roasties were legendary. It was enough of an enticement for Joss.
“I’ll come.”
Ryan grinned. “Great. Get your grumpy vet to come, too. See if you can get him to put his name down to perform. I hear you’re working there a couple of days a week, now.”
That everybody knew he was working with Oliver wasn’t any kind of surprise to Joss, but Ryan asking him to persuade Oliver toperform,was.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a shit hot guitarist, or that’s what Charles said. I overheard him talking to that James fella in the pub. He knows the vet from London. James, I mean. You know James? He bought the house up on Stanhope Hill.”
“Oliver’s a guitarist?”
“Apparently. You being his glamorous and sparkly new assistant, you’re supposed to know these things.” Ryan tutted and rolled his eyes.
Whatever Ryan said, there wasn’t any reason for Joss to know that about Oliver. Yet, he felt wrong footed for a reason he couldn’t put his finger on.
“And he’s not grumpy,” he added, but the comment went unanswered as Ryan was already heading towards the door.
Joss filled Declan in on how the morning had gone, but Declan didn’t say much as distraction hung around him like a low cloud. But he wasn’t the only one. Joss worked on autopilot, and thought about the latest piece of the puzzle that made up Oliver Strachan.
SIXTEEN
“Mrs. Smith.” Oliver huffed, not even trying to hide his impatience.
How many times had he had this conversation, not only with the scowling middle-aged woman, but with so many pet owners over the years?
“I told you the last time you brought Willy in that you should refrain from giving him Hobnobs. They may well be a favourite treat, but all you’re doing—”
