Mac’s never cranky for long, and true to form, his smile stretches into my hand. As far as transport goes, it’s true I don’t have Ivy’s Fiat today having left it at the salon for Natasha to make a trip to the wholesalers. And while it’s tempting to leave now, avoiding Rory totally, I still have a couple loose ends to tie up today. Plus, after yesterday and the wholeimma-crush-you-between-the-car-and-my-fantastic-smelling-bodything, I don’t want him to think he has me running scared.
I need to be sensible about this thing.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, retracting my hand. ‘But I’m not done yet.’
‘You haven’t been done yet?’ Hands against his thighs, Mac guffaws.
‘I didn’t say that.’ Did I? No, I couldn’t have. And yet, my cheeks begin to heat all the same.
‘Oh, you most certainly did. Freudian slip of the tongue... you like to use on him?’
‘God, you’re worse that Natasha. She must be rubbing off on you. Stop,’ I add as he begins to speak. ‘I don’t want to know where you’re going with that. And just... just get out of here!’ Pushing on his shoulder, I turn him in the direction of the door.
‘Suppose it’s better than just telling me you’re hanging about to get f—’
‘Please leave. Go bother Nat!’
‘Now, there’s some business I’d like to take care of.’
‘Urgh, you’re such a Neanderthal,’ I complain, pushing him harder in the direction of the door.
