A Colourful Country Escape
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Synopsis
The DEBUT NOVEL that you won't be able to resist falling in love with. Heart-warming romance and a breath-taking countryside escape - this is the PERFECT summer read . . .
'A lovely debut, full of fun and colour' BELLA OSBORNE
'A heart-warming and uplifting romance - the perfect summer read!' HOLLY MARTIN
'Such a fun ride! Faulkner brings colour and humour to every line in this hoot of a debut. If you're looking for a big splash of bright sunshine in your life, this is it' PERNILLE HUGHES
FALLING IN LOVE ISN'T ALWAYS SO BLACK AND WHITE . . .
When vibrant but penniless Lexie is dumped by her posh boyfriend who is looking for a more financially suitable match, she decides to pack up her beloved orange campervan Penny in search of a new path. Stumbling upon a vacancy at a family-run paint company in the Cotswolds, Lexie believes she's found her perfect match . . .
Lexie arrives at Nutgrass Hall, home of Carrington Paints, but it seems that owner Benedict Carrington is less than impressed with her arrival, and Lexie realises she'll have her work cut out for her if she's to convince stuffy "Beige Ben" to trust her with rescuing his out-of-touch business. But Ben has more on his mind than just the company - his mother is determined to find him a suitable wife worthy of carrying the Carrington family name, or she'll take the business from him.
As Lexie sets to work on injecting some life colour into Carrington Paints, Ben allows himself to be set up with Tewkesbury's finest ladies. But the more time the pair spend together, the more they realise their feelings for each other aren't so black and white. Will Lexie be able to brighten into Ben's colourless world before it's too late?
Let yourself be whisked away with A Colourful Country Escape and fall in love with the cosy Cotswold charm, the colourful characters and some heart-stopping romance. Perfect for fans of Heidi Swain, Jo Thomas and Bella Osborne.
'I absolutely adored this book. Fresh, funny and upbeat, A Colourful Country Escape is rom-com perfection!' KITTY WILSON
'An impressive debut of pure delight - I loved it!' NICOLA MAY
'A debut triumph! Endlessly joy-lit. Bursting with character and warmth' CHRISTIE BARLOW
'A vibrant, charming book. Makes me quite want to take a colourful adventure of my own, especially after these rather beige past couple of years!' ISLA GORDON
'A sparkling romantic debut that whisks you along for the ride' NINA KAYE
Release date: June 9, 2022
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Print pages: 100000
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A Colourful Country Escape
Anita Faulkner
Anyway, what was so bad about a full-scale downpour? She wasn’t going to fuss. As rain hammered down on her cheeks and sent shoppers scurrying into the gleaming stores along Manchester’s King Street, she decided to push towards home. After what she’d just done, she needed a calming cuppa.
Of course, it would have been handy if her yellow-duckling rain mac had had a hood, but it had been such a bargain. Her rain-drenched pixie hair, which was sticking to her forehead like an unfortunate bowl cut, did not seem grateful for the scrimping. In hindsight, venturing out in April without her brolly had been a tad optimistic (even if two of the spindly arm bits were dangerously droopy).
Yet, somehow, the cold water against her skin seemed fitting; like she deserved this deluge. Because Lexie believed in karma. And guilt was a wriggly thing.
A clap of thunder from above made her jump, and, as the sky became white, a memory cut in: a dark, mothy shop with bars on the windows, and a carpet that smelt like soggy socks. Cash in a Flash.
She shook her head and hunched forwards, trying to move through the sea of dripping umbrellas. This was silly; she would get her stuff back from the pawnbrokers. It was all just temporary. A sort of swap, to get her out of bother. She’d handed over the jewellery, they’d lent her the rent money that was getting desperate, then, when she’d sorted herself out, she would switch everything back, and no one would be any the wiser.
‘No one’ being her boyfriend, Drew.
As an expensive, black tour bus rumbled past and sprayed her with puddle mud, an image of his floppy-haired face popped up. She swatted it away, along with the sludge from her mac. Feeling terrible wouldn’t change anything, and Drew probably wouldn’t notice. She’d never really felt worthy of wearing the funny Downton Abbey pearls he’d bought for her, as sweet as the gesture was. She’d have been happier with something cut-price and quirky.
Anyway, Drew would surely prefer her to keep her scary landlord off her back. And now she had some cash she’d make it up to him.
As her heavy shopping bag bashed against her knee, she tried on a smile. They’d have a cosy night in watching Dinner Date. She would touch up her chipped polka-dot nails; he’d play his guitar. All his favourite snacks were right there in the bag. Looking after him made her feel fuzzy.
Plus, she’d just put extra coins in the collection box at Tesco. Who didn’t love a donkey sanctuary? So there. The angels weren’t crying tears of punishment on her head. Perhaps the rain was just a coincidence.
‘Oi!’
Lexie whipped around. There was some sort of commotion across the other side of the street, outside the new jewellery shop. A shop owner dressed like a bouncer was shoving a homeless girl out of his doorway. It looked like she’d been sheltering from the rain.
‘Hey!’ Lexie heard herself shout. How could he treat someone like that? Before Lexie knew it, she was darting out into the road towards the fracas.
Screeeeech.
Lexie heard the car before she saw it – all two tonnes of it as it careered towards her like a ginormous black cloud. The rain seemed to swallow her scream, her bag dropping to the floor like a dying wet fish. Her heart leapt into her mouth but, by the miracle of lucky angel tears, it didn’t hit the SUV’s windscreen. The car stopped just short of her quaking legs.
She caught her breath. She was alive! Although the driver didn’t seem that chuffed about it.
The angry beep of his horn filled her ears. Mooooove. You don’t belong.
Lexie held up an apologetic hand, sorry that she’d chosen to cut through this designer part of town. She backed away from the car and rescued her bag from a puddle. Drew’s wontons would be considerably less crispy – maybe she’d get him some consolatory beers.
This time checking for traffic, Lexie waved another sorry at the angry driver and continued across the road until she reached the homeless girl. The gaunt youngster was trying to save her cardboard bedding from the downpour as Shop Man manhandled her onto the pavement. When he was finished, he swept his hands together with a flourish and retreated into the luxurious glow of Le Grand Bijou.
Lexie let out a huff. ‘Here, lovely, take this.’ She dropped her bag and tugged off her favourite ducky raincoat. The young girl with the threadbare jersey needed it more than she did.
As the stranger gave a grateful nod and shivered into it, they heard a loud honking of horns. SUV Man, clearly not satisfied with Lexie’s meek apology, had done a U-turn to yell abuse through his window. As he veered towards the pavement to treat them to his full obscenity back catalogue, his oversized wheels hit a lake of gutter water and sent a monsoon towards Lexie and her companion. They yelped and turned away from the wave, wobbling face first like jellied eels towards the window of the jewellery shop.
And that was when Lexie saw it.
An ‘it’ that was about five foot nine with floppy ‘I’m in a band’ hair and a mouth shocked into an ‘O’.
All of which were meant to be practising for a gig, not pondering platinum solitaires in a jewellery-shop window with Tabby Sidebottom.
Lexie froze, arms and legs suspended in motion like a puppet on strings. Something gripped her throat, yet there was nothing there. Why couldn’t she breathe? And what was he doing here? Drew Chadwick. Picking out rings with the girl he’d sworn was just a fan.
Holy matrimony? Holy bloody crap.
‘That’s my b-boyfriend,’ Lexie heard herself stutter, as the moment stretched out before her like a lazy cat.
As Lexie and the street girl stared into the glass, the awkward couple inside ogled right back. It was the most unlikely of mirrors: a rags-reflecting-riches not-so-funhouse. At least Drew had the decency to emulate Lexie’s astonishment. Tabby’s thoroughbred face was beginning to look overly pleased with itself beneath its luxury blow-dry. And what was that glinting around her neck? Lexie’s stomach gave a lurch. The sapphire Tiffany necklace worth more than Lexie’s entire world, which Lexie had picked out herself. Drew had said it was for his mother.
The mother whose face then appeared above the other two, pouting as though rain had just stopped play at Wimbledon. Lexie might have known Drew couldn’t shop for diamonds without the Bank of Mum and Dad. Lexie had barely been allowed to say three words to Drew’s rich parents in the eighteen months they’d been together. She guessed there was no need to bother now.
Yet as Lexie began to turn on her Boohoo-sale heel, a hand gripped her bare arm.
‘Where the heck are you going?’
Lexie shrugged at her duckling-clad companion. ‘I only came out to pawn some stuff. I need to pay my … ’
The last word was ‘rent’, but she didn’t dare say it to the unfortunate girl with the drenched cardboard boxes.
‘I wasn’t looking for your life story, lady. I just meant anyone wearing tie-dye shorts and a kid’s duck coat in the middle of an April piss-storm has obviously got some balls. So if that prick in the suit that doesn’t match his grunge hair was meant to be your bloke, you’d better go and brain him before I do.’
‘I … but … I’m a drowned rat.’ Lexie looked up at the sky, which was still leaking down on them, albeit more pathetic snivels of sympathy than full cats and dogs. Should she just pack up her humiliation and get the hell out of there? She never had belonged. The one time Drew’s parents had turned up at his flat while she’d been there, he’d practically confined her to the kitchen, polishing glassware. The sad thing was, she’d felt relieved to have an excuse to hide. Lead crystal had never been more fascinating.
Lexie turned away from the window, pushing wet tendrils of hair back off her forehead, and began to retreat. ‘Not sure his mum even remembers me.’
Glancing back towards the window, Lexie saw the three disembodied heads staring back at her across the sea of diamonds.
‘Just imagine her with the craps. Always works for me when some twat treads on my sleeping bag on his way to the cashpoint.’ The young girl grabbed her again and began tugging her towards the shop entrance.
‘But I’ll ruin their carpet,’ Lexie tried to reason, looking down at her sodden pumps.
‘Do you always put everyone else before yourself?’
The words hung in the air for a moment and Lexie blinked. ‘No.’ She didn’t think so, but …
‘Quick, before Evil Shop Guy comes back.’
Lexie took a deep breath. She hated flashy places, where the staff stared snootily like she couldn’t even afford their shopping bag. The painful thing was, they were probably right.
‘Go on, do it for me. Kick off in that posh-arsed shop and make my day.’
Lexie looked down at those hopeful green eyes, beaming like a pair of traffic lights on go. Maybe this stranger had been right: she never could resist doing things for others. If only she was as good at sorting out her own mess.
Lexie took the girl’s hand and hastily tipped her wallet into it.
Oh. Well, perhaps she hadn’t meant for all of those pawnbroker notes to fall out too, but the girl gave a small sob of gratitude. And asking for a refund from a homeless person did not seem like the done thing. Lexie would have to worry about how she’d replace her last hope at rent money later; it was time for this ridiculously awkward show.
As a loud bell announced Lexie’s entrance into Le Grande Bijou, the three heads turned towards her, trying out a selection of expressions.
The theme on Drew’s caught-in-the-act mug seemed to be ‘oops’. At least he had the good grace to seem bothered. Tabby of Sidebottom fame seemed put out at being disturbed from her diamonds, and Drew’s mother appeared mildly confused.
‘Look, Lex, I can explain.’ Drew was the first of this odd love quadrangle to speak, even if it was an infuriating cliché.
‘I think I’ve kind of worked it out,’ said Lexie, hoping she sounded braver than she felt as she stood under the garish spotlights, dripping like a wet umbrella. ‘When were you going to bother mentioning you were getting engaged? Am I that unimportant?’
Tabby scoffed and Lexie felt it like a sarcastic prod in the ribs.
‘And you knew we were together,’ Lexie said to her. What she wanted to say was that, for all Tabby’s upbringing, she didn’t even have the manners to keep her manicured paws to herself. But Lexie couldn’t bear to draw any more attention to the gaping divide.
‘Oh, come on. As if he was ever going to marry you. You’re from a totally different class.’
Ouch. Well, it seemed Tabby was on hand to do that for her. The prim-bunned fiancée looked down her beak at Lexie, making clear she didn’t mean a better one. ‘You’re basically poor.’
Lexie sucked in her breath. Even Drew was wincing.
‘Hang on a second, I don’t understand.’ It seemed Drew’s mother was ready to stick her powdered nose in. ‘Why on earth would this girl think you would marry her? I thought she was your cleaner?’
Lexie took a step backwards, the words physically winding her. ‘Jeez, Drew, what? Your bloody cleaner?’ She fought with her voice, which was wobbling high and low. ‘Eighteen months and you’re still pretending I just hang around to dust? Urgh.’
Lexie turned to leave and Drew pulled away from the pack, taking hold of her arm and steering her to the side of the room.
He lowered his voice. ‘Look, you know it was so much more than that. I loved the way you looked after me, with all your fussing. But there comes a time when a guy has to grow up and think of his future. Financially. Can’t we talk about this another time?’ His eyes flicked to his toe-tapping fiancée and his mother. ‘My tongue’s tied here.’
‘Well, untie it,’ Lexie replied. As much as her wet pumps wanted to squeak their way out of there, she was keen never to see these faces again. At least if Drew said his piece, she could slink away for good. She shrugged his hand off her.
Tabby and Mrs Chadwick pushed their way back into the fray.
‘Just talk, Drew.’ Lexie hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
He mouthed a ‘sorry’ at her before clearing his throat. ‘Well … Tabby’s right. It’s not as though I was going to, you know … marry you. You must know we’re not the same.’
Wow. So he was giving her the no-frills version in front of his wing-women. Lexie was regretting it already. She looked at Drew, in a suit she’d never seen before. She’d known his parents were loaded, of course. And she’d never felt at home in his penthouse apartment with all those pointless gadgets, but he usually wore faded band T-shirts and hung around in her crummy flat. She’d thought he wanted to be the same. They were both so creative. They had fun. Didn’t they? But all along, she was the odd one out.
‘Not the same,’ she repeated, crossing her arms over her smarting chest and trying to ignore the others. ‘Go on.’
‘I don’t think this is the place.’ Drew lowered his voice again as the shop owner approached – another impolite man in a suit.
Lexie looked back to the window like a desperate duck out of water. Her homeless friend gave her a double thumbs up, her enthusiasm almost vibrating through the glass. Yes. She could do this.
‘There won’t be any other places, Drew, so you may as well tell me here. What was this?’ Lexie waved her arms between the two of them. ‘Were you just sleeping with the common people until someone worthy came along?’
‘No, of course not! It’s not just the money thing.’ He shot a nervous glance at his mother. Clearly that was some of it. ‘It’s the other stuff as well. You know. You.’
‘Me?’ What did that mean?
The shop owner had joined the crowd, along with his meerkat of a shop assistant. Everyone was hooked.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ Lexie could hear the deflation in her own voice. Why had she even asked?
Drew reached for Lexie’s hand, but Tabby slapped it away.
‘Are you feeling sorry for her now? I’ll tell her if you don’t,’ said Tabby, her face scrunched up like an angry plum.
‘So is she the cleaner, or not?’ Drew’s haughty mother still looked befuddled.
Tabby put her hands on her hips and eyeballed her supposed fiancé. ‘Do you still fancy her? Shall I cancel the venue?’
The venue? Could this get any worse?
‘No, Tabby, darling … ’
Lexie shook her head. Who was this strange man? No wonder he’d kept her away from his ‘other life’. Money really did make him ugly.
‘I’ll tell her, Tabby, of course I will.’
What. The. Hell.
‘Look, Lexie, my point is, you’re not exactly … suitable. You’re a fun girl, but as a wife? It would never work. You’re too impractical, sweetheart. Look at you – out in the rain with no coat … ’ He tried to lighten his words with a jokey laugh.
‘And your clothes don’t match,’ Tabby added.
‘They’re thrift shop.’ Lexie tried to defend herself. ‘It’s a look.’
‘You’ve never got any money,’ Drew continued. ‘And when you do, you donate it to the turtles or donkeys or whatever your latest world worry is. Did I just see you give a purseful of notes to that homeless person? Because I thought you couldn’t afford your rent again. And no doubt you still haven’t sorted the MOT for that camper van.’
‘I … ’ Lexie floundered. ‘I do work for a living. I’ve never asked you for a penny.’ In fact, she was the one always feeding him. She was glad his stupid wontons were ruined. ‘You never seemed to mind when you were the useless cause I was fussing over.’
Had that been part of his attraction, she wondered with a shudder. Had he brought out her ‘save-the-pandas’ instinct, with his big dopey eyes and ineptitude to cook a beansprout?
‘What is your job, anyway? Backpacking blogger? Person who faffs about on Instagram all day?’ Tabby interrupted Lexie’s train crash of thoughts.
‘Hey! I’m a social media manager.’
‘You’re working part time in a shop,’ said Drew. ‘And I mean this constructively. But you can be so flaky, Lex. You never stick to anything. I used to think it was because you were artistic and entrepreneurial like me. But, actually, you’re just too scared to let yourself be good at anything. You’re happy to canter along as someone else’s workhorse.’
Lexie tried to ignore the trembling of her chin, which was just the tip of her internal iceberg. She turned to Tabby, who was all but pulling out the popcorn. ‘Can I ask what you do?’
But Tabby just looked perplexed, like having a job had never actually occurred to her.
‘Ladies like us do not need to work,’ Drew’s mother overenunciated, as though explaining something to a silly child. ‘So you gave up the cleaning? Because I could really do with another … ’
‘That was never my job,’ Lexie said firmly. Not that she would be embarrassed if it were – her mum had been a very good cleaner. ‘It was one of your son’s lies. A bit like “Tabby’s just a fan – I think she’s stalking me.” I should have known she wasn’t a groupie, in a twinset and pearls.’
The meerkat-ish shop girl began sniggering, and Tabby shot her a look.
‘This is caashmere.’ Tabby stretched out the word, such a fine material clearly deserving extra vowels. ‘And I don’t even like rock music. It’s dreadful.’
‘I do a delightful range of South Sea pearls,’ the shop owner butted in. ‘Extremely rare. Frightfully expensive.’
‘Oh good! We’ll take the tray,’ said Mrs Chadwick, before she’d even set eyes on them. ‘Do bring it over.’
The shop owner sang a spiel about pearls symbolising wealth and wisdom as he scurried away, rubbing his hands.
‘My music is dreadful?’ Drew’s tiny brain had finally caught up.
‘Everyone should have a hobby, sweetie.’ Tabby patted Drew’s back as if encouraging a spaniel. ‘You’ll be working with Daddy in the business when we marry.’
Now it was Lexie’s turn to laugh. She knew full well Drew’s band was everything to him. They would never be huge, but he didn’t do it for the money. Like Tabby, he didn’t need to.
‘What is your job, Drew? Faffing about with a plectrum all day?’ And with that surprisingly brave quip, Lexie was ready to flee.
She could never win the war against these people and their money. She was unworthy, or unsuitable, or whatever the hell Drew had said. She probably always would be. But at least she’d thrown a cat among their well-coiffed pigeons; that was the best she could hope for.
She rushed to the door, her head bursting with tears which were desperate to escape. But what was that shape moving towards her?
‘And of course, pearls signify new beginnings,’ it was saying, as it held out a tray.
Arggggghhh.
The tray hit Lexie in the gut and flew upwards, releasing its contents to the heavens. Exquisite pearls hailed down everywhere, and as the party moved to avoid them they began slipping and tumbling like a room full of skittles.
Oh God, oh God, oh God …
Lexie hopped to the door, sensing the enraged shop owner hot on her tail. If he didn’t skid on his precious gemstones, she prayed the trail of her rain sludge would at least slow him down.
She burst through into the damp outside air, straight into a pair of outstretched arms. Her homeless friend. Thank God.
‘You did it – I’m so proud of you. Now run! And thanks for everything.’
Lexie choked out a sob as she felt the warmth of the stranger. She gave her a quick squeeze, but it was time to run. The shop owner was probably gunning for both of them. They tore away in opposite directions, hoping the art of confusion would see them safe.
Not that Lexie had to feign bewilderment. As she caught a last glimpse of her favourite duckling raincoat disappearing into the distance, she wondered when she’d started kidding herself. How long had she been floating serenely above the water’s surface, when her feet had been paddling like a frantic duck?
And where on earth was she going to run to now?
Lexie ran and ran along King Street, past the elegant buildings that towered above her and threw her into shade, through streets full of designer handbags and expensive watches she could never afford. She ran until her lungs burned, until she almost felt sick. But she couldn’t face stopping. What was she even running from? She hadn’t done anything wrong, had she? Other than encroach into a world where she’d never belonged.
Was it the words she was fleeing from? She hated Drew for what he’d done, and yet his words still stung. As her feet pounded the pavement, they became a chant in her head. Flaky, impractical, rubbish with money. No proper job.
Crap. At. Life.
And words couldn’t hurt unless they were true. Maybe they were the pearls of bloody wisdom after all.
Urrrrrggggghhhhhhh. Lexie shuddered to a stop, the feeling of suffocation reaching its peak. She couldn’t do this any more.
Perhaps she’d been out of her depth for far too long. In that high-end shopping street, in her life with the privileged Drew. Who had she been kidding that he’d throw off his fancy future to settle down with a girl from a council estate? People like her didn’t marry guys like him. Guys with money. From a different class. People like her cleaned their toilets.
Lexie looked around as she caught her breath. The adrenaline was draining from her and she wondered if her legs would give way. Instinctively, she had made it back to her tram stop, away from that pretentious mess. She’d done them a favour and buzzed off, no longer the unfortunate fly in their ointment. They could carry on with buying solitaire diamonds and arranging lavish venues, and she would … she would …
She flopped backwards onto the nearest bench before her limbs collapsed. What would she do?
The rain had stopped now, but her hair was still dripping. Washing away all traces of that rotten fraud of a man. If only the rain could have taken his hurtful words with it, but it wasn’t possible to scrub away the truth. She was just doing a few hours in her friend Jake’s shop, rather than working on her career. Before that, she’d managed social media and content for a firm that went bust, and had been putting off the fear of CVs and interviews. She never felt like she had anything good to say about herself.
Paying her rent was always a struggle; she forgot to prioritise. But saving the turtles was important too, wasn’t it? And that MOT … what a faff. Sorting out other people’s lives was always so much easier. Why was that? She’d never had any problems running multiple social media accounts and writing heaps of sparkly blog posts for other people’s businesses. Maybe that’s what she needed to do – get back to something she wasn’t rubbish at.
As the teatime commuters bustled around her and tired clouds yawned in the smoggy sky, Lexie wondered if she was getting bored of this place. Manchester wasn’t her home; she’d grown up in Lancaster. Although she’d felt restless there too. After the years of backpacking with yet another dodgy ex that had ended in disaster, she’d never felt settled anywhere.
Her parents and younger sister Sky were still in Lancaster, squashed into their crumbling terrace. And of course she kept in touch. But those rented walls had felt too small somehow, after she’d seen the world. When she’d landed back in the UK, she’d bounced from city to city. After finding Drew she’d thought she might stay here – but no. Perhaps it was time to rebound again.
‘Jobs, jobs, jobs. Read all about ’em.’
Lexie searched around for the voice. Of course, it was job day in the paper she usually grabbed on her way to the tram.
Save your money, Drew used to say. You can read it online for free.
But Ron the newspaper seller had to make a living, and she always passed the paper on to the elderly lady in her block when she was finished. It was never wasted.
How had newspaper Ron’s voice travelled all this way? It had to be a sign. Lexie hauled herself to her feet and fought through busy commuters to reach the stand. Her drained, willowy frame was jostled like a bulrush in the breeze, but suddenly she had extra determination.
‘Exciting opportunities! Your new life could be waiting.’
Lexie was getting closer to Ron’s sales chatter. She couldn’t fault his marketing efforts, even if his message seemed unlikely.
‘Fancy yourself as an astronaut, Madam? Butler to the Queen?’
Lexie couldn’t help a small smile as she heard him drumming up trade. His magic was hypnotic – she wasn’t the only one queueing up for their new life already. As she waited in line, she searched her bag for coins. There was her wallet. But … oh. It was empty. She’d tipped it into her homeless friend’s hands.
She exhaled a long sigh as she felt the last sliver of hope wriggle away into the evening air. It seriously wasn’t her day. Her old life had been snatched from her and she couldn’t even afford the tiniest hope of a new one. And what about her rent? Scary Landlord was going to have a field day.
Lexie snapped back to life and inhaled sharply. She’d reached the front of the queue. No, she couldn’t face a fuss. Being reminded she was a penniless loser was not high on her list of priorities. Shoving her wallet back into her bag, she tried to back away discreetly.
‘Lexie!’
But it was too late. Ron had seen her.
‘Where are you off to, my old mucker? Can’t I interest you in a paper full of fresh beginnings? I could see you as a tightrope walker.’ He gave her a wavy-armed impression and a smile that would ordinarily have been infectious.
She tried to smile back. ‘I think I’ve been balancing precariously for too long, Ron.’
He nodded towards her bag. ‘Didn’t have enough coins today, kid?’
Nor a single note, she thought miserably.
‘Don’t worry,’ he continued. ‘This one’s on me. You overpay me every day as it is, what with never accepting your change. I probably owe you half the stack.’
He shoved a paper into her reluctant hands. ‘No arguments. This little bundle of new dreams is all yours.’ He looked her up and down as she stood on the wet pavement, dripping and shivering like one of those skinny, hairless dogs. ‘It looks like you need one.’
He had no idea how much.
It had been three long days since Lexie had stood shivering outside Le Grande Bijou, watching her so-called boyfriend choose engagement rings with Tabby Sidebottom. And she was absolutely done with snivelling and moping over a relationship that had apparently been built on a pack of juggling jokers. S. . .
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