replied.
âAnd you certainly got it,â someone chimed in. Everyone laughed except Charlotte.
âI donât believe you. You were flirting with her from the moment she came to the table,â she accused.
Sean realised that the restaurant owner was still hovering. Listening. âIf I was, then I am one hundred per cent to blame, because she certainly wasnât flirting back.â He forced himself to smile at the man. âWeâre okay, really. Thanks.â
It was a dismissal and he took the hint, leaving them to their meal. Another waitress brought a fresh glass, a new basket of rolls, and served their meal, but he only had eyes for Elle as she weaved with drinks and trays of food between smaller tables on the far side of the room.
Reassigned out of the danger zone by the restaurant manager and no doubt happy to go.
What on earth had got into him?
Heâd just taken his seat at the table when heâd looked around the room and seen her, hair restrained in a French plait, luscious curves neatly encased in a black shirt and trousers, a long black pinafore tied with strings around her waist.
Sheâd been laughing over a friendly exchange with a family she was serving at another table and heâd experienced another of those breath-stopping moments, just like the one heâd had when sheâd opened the door to him.
He should have guessed this was where she worked.
There were a fairly limited number of jobs where sheâd be working at this time of night, or on a Sunday lunchtime. A late-night garage, a twenty-four hour supermarket or a restaurant. And the Blue Boarâa rambling restaurant with bed and breakfast facilities for businessmenâwas within walking distance of Gable End.
As heâd watched her, he saw the guy whoâd shown them to their table, the one whoâd come to see what the fuss was about, stop her with a hand to her arm as sheâd passed him.
It looked familiar. Possessive.
As did the way the manâs eyes had followed her as she came towards their table.
It was none of his business, he told himself. None at all. But then sheâd looked up, seen him, and he just hadnât been able to stop himself.
Â
Elle walked into the kitchen the following morning, gritty-eyed, heavy-limbed, late after a restless night with a head full of pink ice cream vans and blue-eyed men, to find it blissfully silent.
Sorrel had presumably walked her grandmother to church before going on to take advantage of the free Wi-Fi at the Blue Boar. And Geli would be doing an early turn, dog walking at the animal sanctuary.
She dropped the envelope and van keys sheâd retrieved from the hall drawer onto the kitchen table, then opened the back door.
The sun poured in, bringing with it the song of a blackbird, the scent of the lilac and she lifted her face to the sun, feeling the life seep back as she breathed in the day. Breathed out the unpleasantness of last night. That girl with Sean McElroy might have been beautiful, elegant and polished, but beautyis as beauty does, at least that was what her grandmother always said.
She suspected that beauty like that could, and did, do whatever it pleased and Sean McElroy was clearly happy to let her.
Freddy had moved her to another table after the incident with the rolls. He had been quick to reassure her that he didnât blame her for what happened but, after all, the customer was always right.
It should have been a relief. Was a relief, she told herself. Between Sean and his girlfriend, someone would undoubtedly have had their dinner in their lap.
She had enough on her plate sorting out Rosie, without that kind of trouble. But not before sheâd had a cup of tea and got some solid carbs inside her, she decided, picking up an elastic band from the bowl on the dresser and fastening back her hair.
She opened the bread bin.
Nothing but crumbs. And a shake told her that the cereal box on the table was