“Yes. Are you here to see Lisa? Because she left a while ago.”
Marcy smiled. “No. I was waiting for you, actually. I happened to drive past and your colleague who just took out the rubbish told me you were finished, so I thought I’d wait until you came out.”
“Okay.” Zoe narrowed her eyes at her as she fingered her chef’s hat hair, wondering if she looked presentable. “What do you need?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to wish you good luck for Friday; I didn’t get the chance to tell you in person. I imagine it will be a pretty big day for you.” Marcy jumped off the truck and walked up to her. “And I’ve noticed you walk to work so I thought you might want a lift home.”
“Thanks. That’s kind of you but…”
“But what?”
“Well, don’t you have better things to do than driving people around? It’s your first day off.” Zoe didn’t quite understand what Marcy was doing here. Perhaps she was still trying to shed her guilt. “I already told you, we’re fine,” she added when Marcy didn’t answer. “You can stop apologising now.”
“Okay, that’s good to know.” Marcy’s smile widened, and Zoe couldn’t help but smile too. “So, do you want a lift or not?”
Zoe shook her head. “Sorry to waste your time, but I was actually going for a beer.”
“Right.” Marcy looked her over. “In your chef whites? My guess is you’re not going on a date, then.”
“No, I was just going to chill out by myself,” Zoe said with a chuckle. She gave Marcy a wave and walked on. “Thanks again for the offer, though. I appreciate it.”
“Wait.” Marcy rushed to catch up with her. “Would you like some company?” She held up both hands and pulled an innocent face. “I promise I’m not hitting on you. I just want to buy you a drink.”
Zoe stalled and when she locked eyes with Marcy’s she felt that familiar flutter again—that intense sexual attraction, that tug of desire. The nerves and the sense of breathlessness whenever she was close was driving her mad. “Do I have a choice?” she joked, hoping she was coming across as cool and collected.
“You always have a choice. But it will be much more fun together.”
Zoe laughed and pointed to the truck. “Okay, then. Are you just going to leave your truck there?”
“I can pick it up tomorrow.” Marcy pulled her key out of her back pocket and locked it. “If we’re having beers, I won’t be able to drive anyway.”
“Oh, it’s beers as in plural now, is it? I was just planning on having one before I head home.”
Marcy held out an arm and Zoe hesitated for a moment before she hooked hers through it. “One is fine too. Let’s play it by ear, shall we? My treat.”
23
The little bar situated in a residential area outside the city centre was an odd one, but Marcy wasn’t going to question Zoe’s choice of venue. They’d walked for twenty minutes, discussing Marcy’s new projects and Zoe’s upcoming first week, and now they were ordering beers in a dark, gritty drinking hole. “So, is this where you hang out in your spare time?” she asked, glancing over the old décor. The dark beams, lack of lighting and pig’s trotters that were hanging to dry from the ceiling, reminded her more of a medieval torture chamber than a bar.
“It’s where I used to hang out before I moved away. I’ve been back a couple of times since. Don’t worry; it’s actually nicer than it seems at first sight and Saturday nights here are fun.” Zoe took her beer and grinned when the bartender presented them with the bill. “Your treat, right?”
“Of course.” Marcy laughed when she glanced at it. “Aren’t you a cheap date? I don’t remember the last time I paid a Euro for a beer.”
“Curb your enthusiasm, Casanova. I’m not your date.” Zoe winked and beckoned Marcy to follow her through the narrow bar and out the back door, where Marcy suddenly found herself in an overgrown courtyard. Low hanging grape vines twisted and tangled through a wooden pergola that spanned the entire space and with the whimsical, organically shaped stone benches and tables, it felt completely surreal. In the middle was an old well, now covered with clear glass to function as a standing table and to the side a glittery pole.
“Is that for pole dancing?” Marcy asked, confused by the contradicting vibe out there.
“Sometimes the bar arranges entertainment and there’s pole dancers to watch, but most of the time it just doubles up as something to hold onto so people don’t fall when they’re dancing or singing karaoke.” Zoe chose a table in the back, away from the early drinkers who were sharing jugs of beer and snack platters. “Here okay for you?”
“Sure.” Marcy waited for Zoe to sit and scooted next to her. “What a strange little place, but I like it here. We should have ordered a jug.”
“I’m not sure I should have more than one drink around you.” Zoe unbuttoned her chef’s jacket, revealing a white vest top tucked into her skinny jeans.
“Is that so?” Marcy forced her gaze away from Zoe’s tattoo adorned cleavage. She looked into her eyes instead, but that made her feel strange, so she turned to her beer and sighed. “Why do I get the feeling you think I’m some kind of predator? I just want to apologise some more. I don’t like falling out with people; it upsets me.” Zoe didn’t answer immediately, and Marcy could feel her eyes burning into her. “But I deserved everything you said to me and more and again, I’m very, very sorry.”
“I know you are.” Zoe shifted and turned her way, propping a foot on the bench underneath her. “I was in love with you.”
Marcy felt the blood drain from her face as she hid behind her beer. “No…” She paused and put her glass down. “Were you really?”
