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‘How the hell did I forget? I can’t send them away, I need their cash,’ Tony said to no one in particular. ‘The beds aren’t made. I didn’t order extra food. I don’t even have anyone who can help me out at the bar. Jody’s busy with the boys…’
Tony glanced down at Mel. ‘But you. You’re here. You could help me. You’re my fiancée, after all.’
Mel shook her head and backed away from the madman in front of her. ‘That’s not part of the deal. That’s not what I signed up for. And besides, I have to be in bed soon. I’ve got a business to run, too, remember? And I have to be up early to bake.’
‘You promised, Mel. You promised you’d help me save The Bullion. And look, there’s a whole team of hungry men out there. And we’re making a lasagne. We’ve got the ingredients. You just have to do that… and then maybe sort out the bedrooms for me. Come on, Mel. You’re my fiancée. You have to.’ Tony reached for her hands and held them in his to his heart, which she could feel thumping through his navy jumper. ‘Don’t make me beg. It’s just… there’s no one else.’
There’s no one else.
Damn it. Couldn’t he have chosen another line? Mel knew all too well what it was like to have to fend for yourself. There was no way she could turn him down.
‘Fine,’ she sighed. ‘But you’re still cooking the lasagne. I’ll finish off the onions while you get that lot out there sorted for drinks, all right?’
She waved him off and went back to prepping dinner, the chopping and dicing soothing her jangled nerves. Between her new and unexpected attraction to Tony and her mother’s impending arrival she was out of sorts. Gone was her perfectly ordered life of waking up, baking, serving customers, then reading or watching a show and going to bed. Instead, here she was, teaching a man to cook a lasagne, offering to make beds, and trying her best to help out the one person who’d threatened her security in the first place.
But it was all for the greater good. It had to be.
She scraped together the onions and waited for Tony to come back in to finish off his first cooking lesson. And waited. Then waited some more. Impatient to get going, she poked her head through the door to see him pulling pint after pint. His usually artfully mussed hair was standing out at odd angles, and a sheen of perspiration covered his forehead.
Tony glanced over and caught her eye. ‘I’ll be through in a minute.’
‘You don’t look like you’ll get away at the rate they’re drinking.’
‘Can you finish it off?’
‘No. That’s not the deal. You cook. I’ll pour the drinks.’
‘But I’m a barman. You’re a cook.’
‘And you’re meant to be learning to cook. I’ve got the recipe written down. You just need to follow it. I’ll be here if you need me.’
Tony’s eyes narrowed. ‘Do you even know how to pull a beer?’
‘I’ve been dragged to enough pubs that I’m pretty sure I can copy what I’ve seen.’ Mel picked up a glass and poured the perfect beer with just the right amount of head to prove her point.
‘Fine. But soon as I’m done you’re making the beds and I’m back on the bar.’
‘Fine.’ Mel waved him back to the kitchen, and tried to ignore the tingle of pleasure that bloomed and spread through her when he smiled his thanks.
***
Two hours later the last sheet was tucked in, the last comforter brushed smooth, the last pillow plumped, the last decent fingernail she had on her hands was well and truly ripped to shreds, and each and every last muscle in her body ached.
Mel stretched, hearing cricks and creaks throughout her shoulders and neck. That was a mission, and now she needed a drink. Luckily she was in a pub. And from the rousing chorus of the National Anthem going on downstairs, things were still in full flight.
She plodded down the stairs and pushed through the staff door to see Tony hunched over the bar, his head in his hands, half or even mostly asleep.
‘Any chance of an Irish crème and milk?’ she whispered softly in his ear, not wanting to startle him.
‘Any chance of you sorting yourself out?’ he mumbled into his hands.
She thought to remind him that she’d been up since the early hours, that she’d poured loads of beer and then served up the lasagne he’d cooked to a whole rugby team, and then made up twenty beds, but thought better of it. This wasn’t the Tony the ladies of the village liked to gossip about over their lattes. That Tony had an easy smile, a carefree attitude and, once in the sack, had all the energy of a spring bunny. This Tony? He looked shattered. Beaten. More in need of a good sleep than a roll in the hay.
Mel glanced over at the gleaming monstrosity. Although now that he’d promised not to step on her turf, the coffee machine didn’t seem quite so evil. And right now it could come in handy. She walked down to the end of the bar, ignoring the catcalls as some of the team realised there was a woman in their midst. She stood in front of it and ran her hand along the cool, gleaming steel. Switch on, pour milk in jug, and steam. The ritual was as soothing as ever. She frothed the milk so it was just warm, not hot. Then, pouring it into a mug, she took it down to Tony.
‘Here.’ She pressed the cup against the back of his hand.
He jolted in fright.
‘You need this.’
‘Does it have caffeine in it?’ He turned his head and gave her a sleepy half-smile. ‘Because I really need caffeine. A truckload of it.’
‘If you’re going to be dealing with this rabble…’ She nodded towards the players who, for some unknown reason, had decided to build a human pyramid. ‘You’re going to need a good sleep. Take it. It’s just warm milk.’
‘You’re too good to me.’ He took the mug in one hand and cupped her cheek with the other.
‘Well. If that’s not love’s dream right there, I don’t know what is!’
Mel froze. She knew that voice. Brash. Loud. Demanding. That voice wasn’t meant to be here until tomorrow. She jerked her head away from Tony’s hand, mortified to be caught in such a tender, intimate moment …
‘Are you just going to stand there looking like a gormless wonder, or are you going to get your behind over here and give your mother a hug?’
Hurricane Val had hit.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Mum, I didn’t expect you so soon. What a surprise.’
Mel didn’t look surprised; she looked shell-shocked, maybe even a little sick. Strange, you’d have thought she’d have been happy to see her mother.
Although to be fair, outside of their friendly chats over the bar and in passing on the street, Tony didn’t know much about Mel. In fact he could tick off what he did know about her on one hand. She worked hard, kept to herself, and was pretty to look at. Pretty, and funny, and not afraid of getting stuck in and making things happen. He looked down at the warm milk she’d pressed into his hands. She was caring, too, but most definitely not his type. She was the settling type.
Or was she? A thought nagged at him… settling types liked their family, didn’t they? Wanted to have them around? Have a big one themselves? Breed like rabbits and enjoy big family dinners every night? Cheerful Christmases. Rowdy birthdays. So Mel’s mother turning up should’ve been a good thing. So why was Mel going so pale her black-and-pink hair was looking both darker and more vibrant than ever?
‘Mel, aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome friend? I’m sure I raised you better than that.’ Mel’s mother thrust her hand forward, palm down, in Tony’s direction.
She wanted him to kiss her hand? Not shake it? And had she just thrown him a flirtatious wink along with that girlish giggle?
‘The name’s Tony.’ He leant over and kissed her proffered hand, making Mel’s mum laugh in delight as she flipped her poker-straight, long blonde hair over her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mel shake her head and roll her eyes. So she wasn’t her mother’s number-one fan. Odd.
‘And I’m Valerie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘What made you come early, Mum? And why all the bags? I thought you were only planning to stay for a day or two.’
Tony followed Mel’s gaze to the bags stacked by the front door. There were so many, Mel’s mum could’ve started up her own luggage shop.
A knot began to form in his stomach.
‘Oh, Mel, let’s not talk about that right now. We can catch up properly tomorrow. What I need right now is my beauty sleep. Where’s the nearest bed?’
Did Mel’s mum just give him a meaningful glance? Oh, hell. There was no way he was sharing his bed with her. She’d eat him alive. Oh, and he was meant to be getting married to her daughter.
‘My apartment’s just down the road, Mum. You can sleep there.’
‘Your apartment?’ The flirty eyes hardened. ‘You’re engaged, aren’t you? Why would you need an apartment? Surely you and your fiancé are living together?’
‘We are.’ The words came out before he could think. The knot grew tighter. Damn. Not enough sleep had made him stupid, unable to think straight. But it was too late to back out now. ‘But sometimes this place gets rowdy late into the night and Mel has to be up early for the café, so that’s when she stays over there.’
‘Well, that’s a very modern arrangement you’ve got going. Not particularly cosy, though. I don’t know, Melanie… If I were getting married to this hunk right here I wouldn’t let him out of my sight. Especially with so many women no doubt just waiting to pounce.’
‘I trust Tony. He would never let me down. Unlike some people I know.’
Tony had spent enough hours watching people get tetchy with each other after a few drinks to know when he heard loaded words. Fighting words. Words to wind up the evening with before the two women got even more wound up and a full-on family spat erupted with a gleeful audience to egg them on. Tony ducked down and grabbed the megaphone he kept on hand for the rare occasion when the pub was busy and the patrons needed to be moved on. It was time for a bit, or a lot, of distraction.
‘Down those drinks, boys. It’s time to hit the sack!’
Tony ignored the groans and mutterings of ‘killjoy’ coming from the players.
Setting the megaphone down, he turned to Mel and Valerie. His booming announcement had stopped the sniping but Mel was still glaring at her mother, while her mother stared back at her daughter, an innocent expression on her face. He was mighty glad not to be sharing a room with either of them tonight. ‘That goes for you two as well. Get home and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘You’re shutting up shop? But I just got here.’ Valerie pouted and widened her eyes. ‘And you’re sending the men away? Oh, surely we can stay up for one little drink. They look like so much fun.’
‘What about your beauty sleep, Mum?’ Mel asked pointedly.
‘Oh, I’ll just get it at the other end of the day. A good sleep-in works wonders… and besides, those gentlemen don’t look ready for sleep either.’
‘You’d have thought you’d have had enough fun for a lifetime.’ Mel’s tone was as dark as the shadows under her eyes.
‘Sorry, Valerie. Once the megaphone has come out, it’s time for everyone to get out.’
‘Well, you can’t blame a girl for trying.’ Valerie smiled prettily up at him. ‘Speaking of trying… Melanie, you really ought to do something with that hair of yours. Honestly. It’s hardly feminine.’
Tony watched Mel’s chest rise as she sucked in a breath, then slowly deflated. Counting to ten? Twenty? Her mother had been here only a few minutes and she’d already insulted Mel twice. No wonder they weren’t close.
‘My hair’s fine, Mother. Now let’s get going. I’ve got to be up early and you’re not the only one who needs beauty sleep.’
‘Oh, I can see that, dear. Don’t you worry.’ Valerie turned to Tony. ‘It was a pleasure meeting you. I can’t wait for us to get further acquainted.’
Tony caught Mel rolling her eyes and winked at her as she gathered up as many bags as she could while her mother took one in each hand. As they tottered out the door Mel slung her mother a murderous look.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. Right, so he had one night to figure out how to be a convincing fiancé for a few days. He remembered the towering suitcases. At least, he hoped it would only be for a few days…
***
‘This is a very homely apartment you’ve got here, Melanie.’
Homely? In her mother’s vernacular that meant ‘pokey’.
‘I like it.’ And she did. The apartment above the shop was small, but it was all she needed. Open-plan living with a small kitchenette, one bedroom, and a bathroom. The landlord had allowed her to splash a little paint on the walls. And although lemon yellow wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, she liked it. It reminded her of the bedroom she’d spent so much time in at her grandma’s.
‘And there’s an awful lot of stuff here for a spot where you just need to sleep…’
God, the Spanish Inquisition would’ve been easier to deal with. Nothing got past Valerie. She had a knack of sizing someone up and seeing their weak spots, or the secrets they were hiding, in seconds. She wasn’t afraid to let them know about it either. Like Tony and the drunken women…
‘Well, Tony’s living area isn’t exactly large…’
‘But he has a huge building? Surely he could take over one of the pub’s bedrooms, maybe knock a wall out and create some room for you? I mean, you’ve been together how long now? At least a year?’
Mel groaned inwardly. Lying to her mother about her relationship status had seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to stop the constant badgering about settling down with a man. She’d kind of hoped the vet was going to become the real-life embodiment of her fake boyfriend, but that hope left when he did. And the last thing she’d expected was her mother to visit. That wasn’t something they did… well, apart from the times when something had gone wrong in her mother’s life… which begged the question, why was she here? What had gone wrong?
‘Yeah… we’ve been going out just over a year now.’ Mel felt the walls starting to close in on her. Her previously cosy apartment now felt like it was about to choke her.
‘Well, he really needs to sort that situation out. I’ll talk to him. I can’t have my girl living out of a suitcase.’
Air. There was none. The world was starting to spin. Mel walked to the window, pushed it open and breathed in the brisk, wintry air. Although tinged with wood smoke it felt fresh, clearing, invigorating.
‘And don’t tell me you’re pregnant? Have you set a date for the wedding? We’ll move it up. I don’t want my only child to be an unwed mother, or worse, look like a marshmallow in a wedding dress.’
Mel spun to her mother, anger pulsing in her veins. What right did she have to come in here and tip her nice, secure, routined-up-the-yin-yang life upside down? Hadn’t she done that enough?
‘Mother. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired. I’ve been up since the wee hours. I’ve worked all day in the café. Then worked all night for Tony. And look, it’s the wee hours again. I need to get some sleep. And I don’t need to be harangued about every aspect of my life...’
Her mother’s soft-blue eyes welled up with tears. Of course, she was able to give it but not take it. Nothing had changed there. But despite everything, seeing her mother in pain tugged at her heart. Same way it always had.
‘After all, there’s plenty of time for you to do that.’ She lifted one eyebrow and gave her a small, teasing smile, glad to see the tears recede as fast as they’d built up.
‘Oh, Mel.’ Her mother swept over and pulled her into her lean embrace. ‘What a mean old cow you must think I am. I only want the best for you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.’
You wanted the best for me? Mel was glad her mother couldn’t see the grimace on her face. When had she ever wanted the best for her?
‘Now, since you’re not with child, you sleep on this perfectly comfortable-looking couch and I’ll take your bed.’ She felt a kiss brush the top of her head. ‘There’s a good girl.’
***
Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling. Ting-a-ling.
‘You kids stop playing with the door before I throw an overcooked muffin at your heads. Now get out of here and get to school,’ Mel yelled, searching for a pen underneath the sofa where customers usually waited for their takeaway coffees.
‘Nice arse!’
Mel nearly hit her head in shock. What kid in town had a baritone voice, let alone the cheek to say that to her?
‘Woohoo! Breakfast and a show!’
‘You lot. Cut that out. Show the lady some respect. She’s about to cook you the finest breakfast you’ve ever had.’
Mel wiggled her way backwards from under the sofa and stood up, clutching the pen. She smiled gratefully at Tony, who was staring in irritation at the rugby team as they piled into the café, their big frames filling up her chairs and tables, their aroma of deodorant and sweat competing with the aroma of freshly baked bread.
What was that look all about? And why were his fists clenched? Because they’d gone all caveman on her? Was he…? She flicked the idea away. No. Surely not. He couldn’t be jealous… just acting jealous, in case her mother was around. Acting like an overprotective fiancé. And speaking of her mother… was she still in bed?
Mel checked the time on the whitewashed reindeer clock on the wall that was surrounded by retro mirror art. Just past ten and she was still sleeping? She’d hoped she might have the decency to come and give her a hand this morning, maybe put together a few paninis or ice a cake, but no, that would mean Valerie was doing something for someone else for a change. And since helping her daughter out would serve no benefit to her it was never going to happen. Mel gritted her teeth in self-directed irritation. When would she stop giving her mother the benefit of the doubt?
Tony placed his hand on Mel’s shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. ‘Are you going to keep perving at the players or are you going to thank me?’
Mel considered shrugging his hand off. With no mother about there was no reason to act all touchy-feely with each other, but it felt warm, safe… possessive. Like he actually cared for her well-being. The hand on shoulder could stay, she decided. ‘Thank you for what? Bringing business into the café or giving me a cheap thrill? It’s nice to know my “arse” is still considered “nice”, even if the compliment came from a guy who I’m pretty sure might be closely related to a Neanderthal.’
Mel met Tony’s eyes. The irritation had abated, but she couldn’t miss the way he kept flicking his gaze between her and the players, as if making sure they were ignoring her, showing the lady ‘some respect’. Maybe he was being territorial? Or maybe he simply didn’t like women being treated like meat. Perhaps there was more to Tony than just a good time.
‘Thanks for defending my honour back there.’ She resisted the temptation to bat her eyelashes and add ‘my hero’. The last thing she needed to do was make the mess they were in even more muddled by flirting with Tony.
‘Well, I couldn’t have my betrothed being admired by other men and not say something. It would be unseemly. Um, small question, Mel…’ He lowered his voice and dropped his head closer to hers. ‘How are we going to explain our engagement to the town? Because I get the feeling your mother will not be discreet about it…’
Bugger. Mel hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t really thought any of it through. Her heart began to race. What had she been thinking, coming up with such a mad-hat idea? She should’ve just agreed to help Tony with his business and told her mother a white lie about her fiancé being out of town for work. Now she was stuck with a fiancé known for being a commitment-phobe and a mother who would probably marry them right then and there if she could. Her mother’s obsession with marriage was a mystery to Mel, but ever since she’d been born, that was all she’d done – meet and marry, meet and marry – and for some reason, despite its never having worked for her, she thought her daughter should do the same. Mel inwardly grimaced. It wasn’t like she had anything against marriage, but if she was going to do it she was going to do it right, with the right man, not the kind of men her mother had shacked up with.
‘Okay, okay okay.’ The words came quick, hurried. Tinged with heart-pumping panic. ‘We need to sort this out, now.’
She grabbed Tony by his shirt and pulled him behind the counter, ignoring the ‘you get ‘em’ cheers of the rugby players who seemed to think they were witnessing a passionate moment.
Ow! Her ankle caught on the metal leg of her kitchen table and she lost her balance, sending them falling backwards. She prepared for a second wave of pain as her back headed towards the lip of the stainless-steel bench. Instead, it was cushioned by something warm and soft, yet strong. Tony’s arms, she realised, as she saw a twinge of pain hit his eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, furrows of concern appearing between his brows. ‘Did you hurt yourself?’
A stray blond curl flopped onto his forehead. It looked so silky. She fought the urge to reach up, wrap it around her fingers to discover whether it was as silken as she suspected, whether it would spring up if she pulled it down and released.
‘Are you winded? Are you in a whole heap of pain? You’re looking pretty dazed right now.’
She focused on his lips. Full, soft, yet no doubt capable of being hard, passionate. If she just stood on tippy toes she’d be able to reach those lips… be able to kiss them…
‘Should I be calling an ambulance?’
She blinked. Once. Twice. A handful of times. What had she been thinking? Kissing Tony? Was she mental? That’d only complicate an already messy situation.
‘I’m… fine.’
She was also dry. Who knew a hot wave of lust could make you so thirsty. She turned around in his arms, reached over for a glass and…
Hello. She felt something prod against her lower back. Hard. Thick. Long. Something that had a reputation for pleasing women far and wide. Should she pretend she had no idea? That’d be the polite thing to do. She grabbed a glass, filled it with water and turned back to Tony, who still hadn’t released her from his grasp. Not that she was complaining.
She sipped the water. Watching him watching her as the cool water wet her lips. Beaded on them.
His throat worked as he tried to swallow. Who knew Tony, stud of the land, could get so het up?
‘Water?’ She offered him the tumbler. ‘You look like you need it.’ She glanced down at the bulge-fest. ‘Feels like you need it, too.’
A slow smile spread over Tony’s face. Damn it. She should’ve kept her mouth shut. Zipped it up and glued it for good measure. But this ridiculous, simmering attraction that kept flaring between them made her feel reckless. She closed her eyes. If she stared at those lips, that smile, that face one second longer she’d lose all control.
She was not going to lose control. Kissing her fiancé was not an option.
The glasses in the kitchen cabinet began to rattle as a soft footfall grew louder. Her mother was up, and coming down the stairs. Mel breathed a sigh of relief. Good. For once her timing was perfect.
‘Morning, Mum,’ she called, bright and cheery while trying to disentangle herself from Tony.
‘Morn…’ Valerie stopped short as she surveyed the scene before her.
Mel knew what it looked like. Two lovers caught in a clinch. A good thing, perhaps? At least it made their relationship look real.
Valerie’s hand flew to her eyes, shielding them from sight. ‘Oh! Don’t let me stop you, you little lovebirds. Enjoying a touch of romance in the morning. How adorable! Go on… I’ll just be making a cup of tea. Don’t let me interrupt you.’ She dropped her hand and gave them a wink, before flicking on the kettle.
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