With her household tasks dispatched, Gaby had then helped Harry Goodwin again by working another shift at one of his family’s hotels. It was the third of four shifts she’d agreed to help with while the Goodwins continued to juggle with the absence of their events manager, and this time had involved overseeing two lunchtime bookings that were running simultaneously.
The first was an intimate wedding reception to celebrate a later-in-life marriage between a couple in their sixties, attendedby close family and friends. The second was a lunch buffet for participants at a small creative writing conference taking place in the hotel’s function room.
Gaby had enjoyed working the shift and ensuring both client bookings went smoothly. It pleased her to solve the problems that cropped up with the wedding reception room layout and service schedule and which the other staff hadn’t known how to deal with.
When she’d spotted a more efficient way to serve the buffet for the conference guests, she’d freed up a member of the waiting staff for an entire hour, allowing them to be redeployed in the hotel’s main restaurant to help cover an influx of walk-in lunch guests.
Harry Goodwin had been thrilled with her input and thanked her endlessly as he drove her home afterwards. As ever, Gaby was simply happy to be useful but happier still that the busy shift spent managing the events at the hotel meant less time to think about Peter Bailey and the evening they’d soon spend together.
Her stomach had performed endless butterflies as she’d showered and got ready for the night out. As there would be dancing at the pub after dinner, she’d chosen a sleeveless navy blue dress and paired it with a soft mint-coloured cardigan she could remove once things got going. She’d completed the outfit with black heeled boots and simple silver jewellery before sweeping her hair into a side-clip.
Now, as she lingered in the living room with her aunt and peered out of the window waiting for Peter to arrive, she felt very much like a woman about to go out on a date.
This was no longer just two friends getting together for conversation and catch-up.
It was a date. Acknowledging that was both terrifying and exciting. To keep her nerves at bay, it helped to think of these developments as a little bit amusing, too.
She was going out for a date with a man who’d once been her teenage summer fling.
Hahaha. How funny life could be.
Except Peter hadn’t been just a fling. She’d been completely in love with him.
What if she fell in love with him all over again?
Apparently that train of thought wasn’t so amusing after all, because it only steered her back in the direction of edgy nervousness.
There was one thing that was funny about all this, though—the heeled black boots she was wearing.
As her suitcase had contained no boots that were suitable for an English autumn evening out on a date, she’d taken a shopping trip to the high street after Harry Goodwin dropped her off back in Hamblehurst that afternoon. The boots were on display in the window of a pretty boutique and Gaby had fallen for the delicate heel and soft leather.
Now though, as she hovered by the window in her aunt’s living room, she realised it was hilarious to think she could buy new heeled boots and then immediately wear them to go out dancing. The boots had felt feminine and classy when she tried them on in the boutique, but her feet were already complaining about the snug fit and high heels.
How would she survive an evening of dancing if the boots were already giving her grief?
Well, it was too late to do anything about it now because she saw Peter climbing out of the taxi that had just arrived outside. She sent a silent prayer of gratitude that he’d had the good sense to arrange a taxi to take them to the pub instead of walking there. Perhaps her feet might survive the foolish new boots she’d bought after all.
Gaby kissed her aunt goodbye and grabbed her coat and bag, then met Peter outside as he walked up the front path. Sheforgave the new boots for the undoubted torture that lay ahead when Peter’s gaze widened as he looked her up and down.
“You look amazing, Gaby,” he said.
“Thanks.” Peter looked good too, in black trousers and a dark shirt and tie beneath his signature overcoat, but before Gaby got the chance to return the compliment, he was stepping closer and brushing a kiss across her cheek which had the effect of stealing the words right out of her mouth. “Good thinking on the taxi,” she said instead.
“The pub’s a bit further away than where we’ve gone before and a taxi made sense.”
The journey took them along the high street and towards a quieter road at the opposite end. The small talk was easy and comfortable, which was a relief. After their searing kiss last night, Gaby worried that this might all be a bit awkward, that they might both feel like two people who’d stupidly let themselves get caught up in a moment they now regretted.
But there was no awkwardness and no embarrassed glances swapped between them. Peter asked about her day and about her shift working at the hotel, and the fact he’d even remembered she was doing that touched her.
The taxi pulled up outside a large pub on a corner plot with light spilling out from a bank of frosted windows to where people sat huddled and chatting in the small beer garden at the front, defying the autumn temperatures. Peter’s hand on the small of her back as they walked inside made her pulse rush.
The pub was warm and welcoming and packed with people enjoying their Friday night. Peter steered them both towards a long table where his teacher colleagues and their significant others were seated and who greeted them with waves and smiles as Peter introduced her. They claimed the last two seats at the table and were handed food menus to look at while drinks were ordered.
And then, just like the night before at Peter’s parents’ house, the evening vanished into a busy and lovely blur.
Gaby chatted with Peter’s colleagues, who were a fun and relaxed bunch and great company. They recounted hilarious stories from the school chalkface and Peter chimed in with funny stories of his own which kept everyone amused. It was obvious from the way they talked, even when sharing their amusing anecdotes, that these teachers were completely committed to their work and to their students. And it was obvious, too, that Peter was a much-loved part of their school community.
Over food, Peter’s colleagues asked Gaby plenty of questions about how she knew Peter and about her work and her connection to Hamblehurst. The various spouses of the teachers who’d come along for the evening were friendly and welcoming too. She tried not to notice the vaguely hopeful looks the females gave her, and when one of them made an undoubtedly wine-fuelled comment about how she hoped Gaby might save them from their quest to pair Peter off with a good woman, she laughed good-naturedly and pretended not to understand what they meant.
