‘Shall I make a start on Milo, Marcus?’
Marcus was grateful for the interruption. ‘Yes. Thank you, Rowan.’ He turned back to Mrs Calloway. ‘I’d better make a start myself, Mrs Calloway, otherwise I’ll soon have a backlog.’
Before waiting for an answer, Marcus led Beau towards his grooming table, changing his usual position at the table to be able to oversee Rowan. Not that it looked like he needed help. He was managing Milo’s nerves magnificently, talking calmly with an authoritative edge to his voice that seemed to calm Milo. Marcus could barely focus on Beau as he stared at Rowan’s powerful exposed forearms.
By midday, thanks to Rowan’s help, they were ahead of time, and even had time to spare to eat lunch—a luxury Marcus hadn’t enjoyed since Georgina had been off ill.
Marcus’s tummy growled as he bit into his cheese and pickle sandwich. He chuckled and covered his mouth as he apologised. ‘Sorry. I think my stomach’s excited because it’s actually getting to consume food midday. It’s been dinnertime before I’ve eaten for over a week now.’
Christine’s head appeared around the door, a smile brightening her face when she saw Rowan. ‘Hello again. Nice to meet you properly, Rowan. Marcus has kept you quiet.’
Marcus’s eyes went wide and he nearly choked on his sandwich. Marcus swallowed quickly. ‘Christine, sorry. You didn’t get to meet Rowan properly at the pub. This is Rowan. Rowan, this is Christine, my landlady, neighbour, salon queen and unofficial supervisor.’
Christine came into the room. ‘So how long has this arrangement been going on?’
Rowan’s brow pulled together. ‘Me helping out, you mean?’
‘Of course. What else would I mean?’
‘Just today.’
Christine smiled sweetly. ‘Good Lord, he needed it. He’s been trying to be a martyr this past week, almost making himself ill as well. And where would that have got him?’
Rowan looked from Christine to Marcus. ‘He’s also decorating his house.’
Marcus watched Christine’s confused expression. He knew exactly what she would be thinking right now—how did Rowan know about that before she did,ifthey weren’t an item.
‘Rowan happened to be walking past my house when I was scraping the loose paint from the front door, that’s when he offered to help in here.’
Christine threw her hands up. ‘Don’t worry. This is not an inquisition. I’m just making friendly chit-chat. It’s nice to be able to catch you for five minutes. I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.’
Marcus smiled. ‘How’s things in the salon?’
Christine leaned against the doorframe, her smile turning mischievous. ‘Honestly, Marcus, the whole bay has gone dog-competition mad. I had Mrs Calloway in yesterday asking whether I thought Beau’s pink bowtie would clash with her coral blouse.’
Marcus nearly choked again. ‘Please tell me you advised against pink.’
‘I told her Beau would look handsome whatever he wore.’
‘Diplomatic.’
‘Professional,’ Christine corrected. Her eyes slid towards Rowan, who was rinsing his mug in the small sink of the tearoom, as if he had been part of the place for years rather than one morning. ‘Something you could learn from me.’
Marcus widened his eyes. ‘I am the very soul of diplomacy.’
Rowan made a small sound. It was not quite a laugh. But it was close enough to make Marcus’s attention snap to him.
Christine noticed, of course. Christine noticed everything. Her smile softened in a way that made Marcus suddenly very interested in the crust of his sandwich.
‘Well,’ she said, pushing herself away from the doorframe, ‘I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve got a perm waiting and, unlike some people, I can’t distract my clients with dog treats and charm.’
‘That’s because your clients would ask for a discount.’
‘Exactly.’ Christine gave Rowan a pleasant nod. ‘Nice to meet you properly, Rowan.’
‘You too,’ Rowan said.
‘And thank you for helping him. He won’t say it, but he needed it.’
