Or she just doesn’t care.
I take Fifi into Battle Harbour and give her the tour. We stop for coffee, but Fenella isn’t there.
We visit a few of the shops because Fifi likes shopping as much as I do. After the stores close, we head to The King’s Hat for wings.
I’m surprised this is Fifi’s first time in the bar.
“I’m not very social when I’ve been here. I try to see as much of Mum as I can. She usually comes back to see us,” Fifi explains. I had ordered us two pints of honey mead when we sat down, but Fifi makes a face after her second sip. “She must want a break from this place when she has time off. There’s not much here, is there?”
“There’s actually more than you think. They’re building an Observatory, and there’s a lot to do outside in the winter—”
“Are you interested in winter sports now?” Fifi interrupts with a gleam in her eye. “Ashton, whatareyou doing here?”
I shrug. I don’t want to tell her anything about Sophie because nothing I can say would make me look like a good guy. “Fen’s here,” I say lamely. “And my buddy Basher likes it here.”
“You are not your sister’s keeper,” she points out. “At least you didn’t use to be.”
“I might be doing some consulting for the king,” I pull out, needing something. I might not know Fifi well, but she used to be a good friend of Lavinia’s, and I don’t want them talking quite yet. “It’s not finalized but there’s a good chance I might stay on.”
“You’ve got a job? Here? What about racing?”
“That was never going to last forever.” I wave Mabel over to order Fifi a drink she appreciates. But since this is Battle Habour, I’m not sure how possible that is. “Can I get the wine list, Mabel?”
The new manager of King’s Hat pulls a plastic menu out of her apron. “Where’s your friend?” she demands rudely, throwing it on the table.
Mabel has a dark beauty that is appealing as much as it’s intimidating. Short black hair, a perpetual sneer, and a frown between her dark eyes. She’s the complete opposite of Fifi’s golden goodness with an open smile. I like Mabel because she has no trouble speaking her mind. People call her grumpy, same as me.
They also call her other things, which aren’t worth repeating.
But even if I were remotely interested, Basher is interested, and if it’s one thing I’d never do is poach a friend’s girl.
Not that Mabel is Basher’s anything, but a guy can dream.
“Friend?” I motion to Fifi. “This is Fifi, Mrs. Theissen’s daughter. Fi—”
“I don’t care whose daughter she is. Basher,” Mabel interrupts impatiently. “That friend. Where is he?”
“Basher? I think he’s in Vancouver.”
“When is he planning on comingback?”
I bite my lip to keep from smiling. If Mabel is asking about Basher, that has to be a good sign. “Not sure,” I say apologetically. “Maybe you should ask him that. You can text, or send him a DM…”
“I’m askingyou, because you’re here in front of me. He is not. I don’t know why I’m even bothering,” she finishes under her breath.
“I don’t know when he’s planning on coming back,” I say quickly before Mabel decides to give up. “I know the band has some time off—”
“Basher?” Fifi interrupts.
“Basher,” Mabel repeats. “That’s his name.”
“Basher Doyle,” I tell Fifi. “Drummer for the Water Rhinos.”
“Ooh,” she exclaims. “I quite like them. And the drummer is very attractive.”
“No, he’s not,” Mabel says in a threatening voice. “Not for you.”
Fifi is startled by the reaction and opens her mouth to respond.
