Rocco turned the radio on for some background noise and relaxed into the drive. The pub was on the outskirts of Portree. He’d noticed it yesterday – was it only yesterday that he’d changed his mind about going home? – and had thought it looked nice. He was about to find out if it was.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, sitting up straighter as the car rolled to a halt.
He switched off the engine. ‘I’m about to have dinner. You can join me, if you wish.’
‘Here? I thought we were going to have fish and chips?’
‘I’m sure they’ll have fish on the menu.’
Giselle narrowed her eyes. He noticed her nose had caught the sun, and he really,reallywanted to kiss it.
‘I can’t afford it,’ she stated boldly.
‘I’m paying.’
‘No.’
‘Giselle…’
‘I said no.’
‘Think of it as me buying you dinner in exchange for your services as a tour guide.’
‘Like a kind of barter system?’ she said.
‘That’s right, a barter system.’
‘Is everything business to you?’
‘Not everything. Anyway, you bought the fish and chips last time.’
‘Don’t pull this stunt again,’ she warned, getting out of the car.
‘I won’t.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘And don’t you go ordering too much, or loads of side dishes,’ she added.
‘Would I do such a thing?’
‘Venice,’ was all she said, stalking towards the pub’s entrance.
He’d guessed at the time that she’d seen through his ruse when he’d ordered far too muchbruschettefor one.
The pub was more of a restaurant, Rocco realised, as they were shown to a table.
With drinks ordered and menus in their hands, Giselle hissed, ‘I feel underdressed.’
Oh, I wish you were, Rocco thought, before catching himself. ‘You look fine,’ he told her. She looked more than fine: she looked gorgeous.
‘My hair is a mess and I’ve got grass stains on my trousers.’
‘So is mine,’ he said, running a hand through his hair.
Her lips twitched. ‘How about grass stains?’
