“I was just going to stay in…” That had been the plan. A night in, more time to think about the hotel and budgets and recruitment and the wedding that was planned—and her wedding that had been called off.
“You can’t just stay in, Sorrell. This town is as mad as a box of fucking insane frogs that have forgotten their medication, but you’ll never die of boredom if you join them. Will you come out with me for bonfires and fireworks?”
She felt her cheeks redden as they did far too quickly, a curse of being a redhead. Maybe it was the thought of the heat of the bonfire or maybe it was the idea of being around new people in a new community. Or maybe it was because of the man in front of her who had biceps bigger than her handbag and a smile that suggested he knew lots of dirty things.
“I’m sure you have better things to do than take me around town. Your girlfriend…” she said, almost spluttered. There was no way he was single. She hadn’t really noticed until he was standing in front of her without the distraction of his temper or his friend’s children that he was, well, hot.
And now she couldn’t stop noticing.
“I don’t have one,” he said. “And I’m not asking you out on a date. Not that…” He stopped abruptly. “I’m going to quit that sentence because that’s me digging a bigger hole. Come see the bonfire and fireworks. Eat hot dogs and burgers and pull your filling out on bonfire toffee. Meet the locals. Have fun.”
“Your brothers and friends won’t mind?” Sorrell said, starting to feel anxious. She had to get over this worry of being in new situations else she’d never be able to run a hotel.
Zack shook his head slowly. “No. I’ll finish work at five that day. Be ready for five thirty and I’ll call for you. We can walk into town together.”
She nodded, not sure of what to say. She wanted to go; she loved bonfires and fireworks, the smoke and excitement and it felt like a long time since she’d had any excitement. “Five-thirty. I’ll be ready.”
“Good,” he said, picking up a muffin. “I’ll see you then. Hide your keys from Sadie Grace if she turns up in the meantime.”
He strode out of the building, his phone ringing. Sorrell vaguely heard him speak as he closed the door behind him, telling someone that he was on his way and to have a beer ready. Probably his brothers. Or cousins. Or friends.
She returned to her cakes and biscuits and began to box them up, trying not to feel lonely.
Chapter 5
The builders had packed up an hour ago, when it was starting to go dark. The extension to the dining area was pretty much completed: the external work was done and the plasterers had finished. The flooring was going in tomorrow and then the furniture and some of the décor would be delivered, including what must be a mile of fairy lights.
There wasn’t a great deal more to do, other than styling the rooms and tackling the snag list. Gwensi had spent three days there, helping Sorrell with the bedding, curtains and other knick-knacks around the place. Another two weeks, and Sorrell would have her first guests. Another four, and there was the wedding.
Sorrell put the idea of weddings out of her mind and instead checked the long mirror that was now in the hallway. The temperature had dropped further, with a forecast of minus two overnight, so she’d taken the sensible option of wearing layers. At some point, they’d be going in a bar, probably the one owned by Zack’s brother, Scott, and she didn’t want to overheat.
Her hair was tied loosely back into a braid, a black wooly hat with a large pom pom on top. She’d kept her make up minimal and opted for skinny jeans and a sweater, with a vest underneath and her padded Canada Goose coat over everything.
It wasn’t a date, she kept reminding herself. He had said it wasn’t a date, categorically. And that was good, because after Mark she wasn’t ready for dating anyone, even though Gwensi had told her about thirty thousand times that the best way to get over a man was to get under another. But she was still nervous.
Half past five arrived and the door was silent. There had been no confirmation from him that he was still calling for her on his way into town. They hadn’t swapped mobile numbers and she hadn’t bumped into him or his brothers or Jake when she’d been in town since Halloween. He might not turn up.
Sorrell was bracing herself for that possibility when there was the sound of skidding tyres on the driveway. She opened the front door and saw a huge monstrosity of a Land Rover, the back seats filled to the roof with boxes, and a grumpy Zack at the wheel, whose face was illuminated by the artful lighting that was directed at the front of the manor.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, jumping off the seat. “Seriously, I should’ve got your number so I could’ve texted you, but I kind of figured you’d be late anyway, getting ready or something.”
She should have been annoyed at his stereotypical presumption, but instead she was quelled by the soft smile he gave her. He had a weaponry of smiles, all of them lethal. “I’m always on time or early. Can I help with anything?”
Zack took long steps towards her, his breath visible in the freezing evening air.
“When we get to the clubhouse, you can give me a hand carrying all this in. What do I smell?” He lifted his nose in the air a little like a bloodhound.
“Treacle toffee and parkin,” Sorrell said, feeling a tiny amount of pride slipping in. Mark had never been keen on her habit of cooking sweet stuff. He was too into the gym and counting his macros. “The parkin is a recipe from my gran. It was the first thing I ever baked.” The recipe wasn’t an easy one, with its quality coming from getting the balance of ingredients just right, but the heavy, sweet cake was worth the effort. Proper bonfire food. “And I’ve got five batches of it.”
“I’ll help you bring them out,” he said, heading inside. “Although I can’t guarantee that five will make it to the clubhouse.”
She walked behind him down the hallway, to the kitchens. He was casual in jeans and a hoodie, with a large padded jacket over it. Her boots were flat which meant he was at least half a foot taller than her and he made her feel small, small in a good way, not like Mark had made her feel sometimes.
“It’s in the plastic crate there,” she said, pointing to it. She could’ve carried it herself, because even though she was little and on the thin side, she was strong, especially after learning a lot of DIY in a short space of time. No one had ever told her stripping wallpaper was hard work.
“Why a hotel and not a bakery?” Zack said, lifting up the crate with hands covered with black fleece gloves.
“The ex wanted a hotel. He said it had always been his dream,” she said, grabbing the bag filled with treacle toffee. “Until his dream was something else. So I have a hotel to get off the ground.”
