‘What?’
‘Nothing,’ I said innocently, shaking my head as I reached for the glass he offered. He held the drink up just out of my reach.
‘Oi!’
‘What was that look about?’
‘What look?’
He fixed me with those eyes.
I let out a sigh and smiled. ‘All right, I just didn’t have you down as the organic type. Last time I saw you, you were inhaling a Big Mac, large fries, and a Happy Meal.’
‘I’d been stuck on a delayed train for two and a half hours. I was hungry.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘I got the juice from the local farmers’ market. The lady selling it was really chatty and sweet.’
‘Oh, really?’ I raised an eyebrow.
‘Not like that,’ he said, pushing the drink at me, with a smile. ‘She was old enough to be my grandmother. But once she’d got me talking, I could hardly come away without buying anything, could I?’
‘Charlie, how much did you buy?’
He hesitated. ‘A crate.’
‘You’re such a softie.’
He looked at me.
‘I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. You can’t help being a pushover.’ I winked. We both knew that wasn’t true. Not in all aspects anyway. There was no way Charlie Richmond would be in the position he was in if he were a pushover in the world of finance and risk management. But in other aspects he was soft as a brush.
‘OK. Come on, we can go upstairs and look at this stuff.’ Heading out of the kitchen, we started up the stairs. ‘And just remember, if I wasn’t such a pushover, as you put it, you wouldn’t be getting your finances checked over for free.’
‘Hey, I offered to pay,’ I said, half turning round, the stair I was on meaning I was now more on eye level with Charlie.
‘I’m teasing you. You know I enjoy doing it. Keeps me out of trouble. Come on, up you go.’
He tapped me on the behind with a file folder.
‘Oi.’
‘Get a move on, then.’
‘I’m going, I’m going.’
The drawing room was just as beautiful as downstairs, but here the period features were more obvious with plaster roses around the chandelier, and a stunning fireplace that, for now, stood empty but that I could just imagine crackling with the warmth of a real log fire. The majority of the room was white with yellow accents resulting in a light, airy feel. The addition of some modern pieces of furniture made a pleasing mix of old and new, but also lent it an air of familiarity. It wasn’t just a gorgeous room to admire. It was a home.
‘Take a seat.’ Charlie pointed at one of the overstuffed couches as he put the file and his drink down on the glass coffee table in front of it, before taking a seat next to me.
‘This is a beautiful room,’ I said, twisting round in the seat to view more.
‘Thanks.’
‘You have great taste.’
‘As much as I would like to take the credit, it was mostly the work of an interior designer, not me.’
