I’m going to be staying at his house.
Well, not actually at his house with him, but next fucking door. I still can’t believe I said yes. Neither could Seb when I called him while packing up my stuff. He was torn between making sure Pete wasn’t a serial killer and waving metaphorical pom-poms.
“You look like you’re thinking hard,” Pete says as soon as I get in the car. “If you’re having second thoughts, I can drop you off at the lodges instead.”
“Seb was concerned that I don’t know you all that well.”
His eyebrows rise. “Seb?”
“My best mate. I called him to let him know I was leaving the pub and going to stay with you.”
“In my annexe,” he says, frowning. “And I like to think we’ve got to know each other a bit over the last week.”
“We have.” We totally had, and up until talking to Seb, the thought that Pete might be anything other than a lovely guy had never occurred to me.Fucking Seb.
He sighs. “I get it. You can’t be too careful these days.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Don’t apologise. You’ve every right to want to be safe.” He shifts in his seat. “Hailey and Charlotte know where you’re staying. Would you like to call Seb so he can speak to me himself? You can give him my phone number and address so that he knows exactly where you’ll be.”
“You’d do that?”
His smile goes a long way in easing any doubts Seb sowed. As does his offer to call Seb. I draw my bottom lip between my teeth, torn. But then Pete makes the decision for me.
“Call him.”
So that’s what I do.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I pull up FaceTime and hit Seb’s number. He answers almost immediately, and I realise my mistake too late.
“Hey, shouldn’t you be on your way to the hot lumberjack’s house?” Seb’s voice fills the car and I groan, wanting to slide under the seat.
Pete’s laughter follows a second later, and Seb smirks. “Sorry. You didn’t say you had company.”
Pretty sure my face is on fire by now, but really, can it get any worse? I tilt my phone so Seb can see me and Pete. “Seb, meet Pete. He wanted to talk to you so you won’t think he’s a serial killer.”
“I was joking!” Seb glares at me, then shrugs a shoulder. “Eh, mostly, anyway.” His eyes narrow as he focuses on Pete. “So, you’re Pete, then?”
“In the flesh.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I palm my face.Yes, it can get worse.
Pete glances at me, eyes full of amusement. “Pete Harbrook. I own the local garden centre and Christmas tree farm.” He rattlesoff a phone number and address. “That’s where Charlie will be staying for the next week.”
Seb glances down at something, and it takes me a moment to realise he’s writing it all down.
“I actually listed it on Airbnb but only opened bookings from March next year. You can check the place out if you want.”
“I will, thanks.” Seb finishes writing and looks up, gaze curious.
And yeah, no way am I letting him ask anything else. I think we’ve established my gut was right where Pete’s concerned. “Right, we better get going. Bye, Seb?—”
“Wait, wait, wait. I haven’t finished talking to Pete.”
“Yes, you have. I’ll call you later when I’m settled. Bye.” I end the call before he can protest again, and Pete chuckles.
