“When are you coming to get me?”
Now, he thought with a wave of sadness.I want to get you now. “You’ve got three more weeks with Gran and Pops, Turnip.”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname. Probably she was getting too old for it now. For him, though, it was a powerful reminder of the first time he’d seen her, at the eighteen-week scan, when he’d been told she was the size of a turnip. It was the moment his life had changed. When he’d gone from a wild, irresponsible twenty-year-old with no worries beyond pissing his parents off, to doting but grossly unprepared dad in the blink of an eye. He’d vowed in that moment to do anything in his power to give her the upbringing such a precious bundle deserved. He hadn’t realized her mum, Amy, would duck out and he’d be doing it on his own. Well, not quite. His parents had put aside their disappointment in him and chipped in with babysitting when he’d had to work nights at the bar, before he’d changed jobs so he could work around school. And Amy’s parents, who lived in Devon, had put aside their disappointment in their daughter and poured all their love into their granddaughter during the school holidays.
It was Amy’s parents Ellie was with now. And clearly enjoying her own holiday by the sea.
A lump settled in his throat as he said his goodbyes. All part of the roller coaster of being a single parent. He missed her like fuck when they were apart, yet there were times he missed being just a man and not a dad. Missed being able to do what he wanted when he wanted. With whom he wanted.
For these next few weeks he wasn’t a dad, though. He was a single guy here to work hard and party hard. If only his sad, out-of-practice body could keep up.
Chapter 2
She was getting old. There was no other word Olivia could think of to describe how she felt as she sat in the crowded bar watching Sophie and her friends down cocktails like they were smoothies and then crack up with laughter at something one of them said. It might have been funny, but Olivia had no way of telling because the supposed background music was so loud, she couldn’t hear a bloody thing.
Crap, she really did sound like their mother.
Jerkily she rose to her feet. “Okay, guys, time for another round.” If she couldn’t contribute with conversation, at least she could use her credit card. “Same again?”
They all nodded vigorously.
“I’ll help.” Ashley was clearly trying to keep up, but from the way she staggered to her feet, she seemed to be failing.
Olivia waved her away. “Thanks, but I’m not sure whathelpyou’ll be.”
Jessica smirked. “She’s saying your drunk.”
Ashley pouted. “No way. I can hold my liquor. Better that than someone else holding it for me.”
The pair of them dissolved into giggles. Smiling, Olivia left them to it. She didn’t begrudge them their shared laughter, but it did highlight their differences. Would she have been more carefree if she hadn’t been the youngest? The one stuck at home for four years with only an absent father and a mum who tried to hide her loneliness by keeping an immaculate house and baking for a man who was never around to appreciate it?
Shoving the memories away, she squeezed into position at the heaving bar. It wasn’t often that she minded being average—height five foot four, mousy-brown hair, face nice enough not to scare children but not pretty enough to attract attention. Trying to catch the eye of busy bar staff, though, was one of those times. Not that the stunning blond barmaid was going to look her way. She was far too busy flirting with the guys. The barman, though, the one with the dark hair and easy smile? Once again, he ignored her and swerved to his right, to the olive-skinned brunette with the plunging neckline.
Olivia glanced down at her neatly buttoned black satin shirt and sighed. Almost considered taking it off, until she realized revealing her plain black bra, housing her distinctly below-average B cups, was hardly going to send the man rushing in her direction.
Blondie finished serving her customer and cast her gaze in Olivia’s direction. Finally. But a split second later, she aimed a wide, flirty smile at the guy to Olivia’s right. The one who’d only just walked up to the bar, for fuck’s sake.
“Thanks, Annika, but this lady was before me.”
With a start, Olivia glanced up at him—and it was definitelyup. He wastall. And fine, a lot of people were tall compared to her, but she wasn’t used to craning her neck quite so much to see a guy’s face.
Worth the effort, though, she thought with a wry smile. She couldn’t blame Blondie for passing her over to serve him. Must have been hard, once she was snared by those vivid ocean-blue eyes, to look anywhere else. She remembered him from the hotel earlier, where she’d had a hard time dragging her own eyes away from him.
“Thanks.” Olivia gave him a small smile before rattling her order off toAnnika.
“No worries. It pays to be a regular.” He smiled. “And tall.”
She laughed quietly to herself. No way he thought those were the two attributes that had caught the barmaid’s attention. Not with a smile like that, all twinkling eyes, even white teeth, and dimples. Flipping dimples. Like he needed the extra layer of sexy. Unruly chestnut-brown hair completed a look that was too surfer-dude for her taste. He was like a bottle of Coke, all sexy fun vibe, whereas she preferred a smooth, mature claret.
“I recognize a fellow English accent. Here on holiday?” he asked.
“Yes, sort of.” His right eyebrow shot up. “My second week is a holiday—the first week, my niece is getting married,” she clarified.
“Ah.”
He stared back at her, and though she was used to men looking at her, she wasn’t used to them looking the way he was. Like she was a present he was intrigued enough to want to unwrap but couldn’t work out where to start.
“Are we going to ignore the fact you saw me at the hotel?” she asked, feeling a bit unbalanced.
