Chapter Thirty-Two
Olivier – 36 Tilgate Road, Brighton
Olivier hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d seen Ashleigh leave for work in the morning, and come home, and then head off out again, and felt like a creep for noticing but not speaking to her like he wanted to. He hadn’t been able to sort out his concerns from the day before, his mind and his feelings at war.
He’d come to England to try and get some space to make decisions about his life – and feel some confidence in those decisions. But he’d seemingly only added to his confusion. Now he was wondering if he wanted to work in a restaurant at all – not just whether he wanted to take a promotion – and whether or not he could trust himself to begin a new relationship without making similar mistakes to last time. Rushing in. Not thinking the fallout through and how it would affect both himandAshleigh.
So, he’d ended up in the kitchen after his maman went to bed, experimenting with marshmallow and waiting up to see if it had set okay.
And possibly, to make sure Ashleigh got home safely.
When he’d heard her outside, despite his intention not to speak to her until he knew exactly where his head was at, he had to invite her in. It was just being neighbourly and decent. They’d clearly had a lot to drink and it was freezing out there and very late.
He’d held his breath after he invited them in, and the small redhead threatened to pepper-spray him. Maybe Ashleigh was inclined to let her.
But then she’d smiled and now three women were clattering into his maman’s hallway. As if she read his mind, Ashleigh pointed upstairs. ‘Won’t we wake your mum?’
He shook his head. ‘She sleeps with earplugs in.’
‘You live with your mother?’ the redhead asked, her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. Still not one hundred per cent trusting him obviously, despite the fact she’d kicked off her heels and was taking off her coat too. ‘Are you sure he’s not a serial killer?’
‘Oh my God, why does this place smell like Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?’ Ash’s other friend said. ‘Does that happen when you drink too much? Can you hallucinate smells?’
‘No.’ Ashleigh laughed, and Olivier’s heart lifted automatically at the sound of it. ‘Or, even if it can, you’re not. This house always smells like heaven. Olivier’s mum ownsInclusions, the chocolate shop in the Lanes and he’s a Patis – Pattisur – I’m sorry, my drunk tongue can’t say it.’
‘Dessert chef,’ he supplied.
‘Wow. You live next door to a French dessert chef? Why have you been keeping this secret from me?’
Ashleigh shook her head and her cheeks flushed a little. ‘Oh, I should introduce you. As you know now, this is Olivier. Olivier, this is Beth.’ She indicated to the friend who was busy inhaling his house. ‘And Noelle.’ She pointed to the redhead.
‘Ah, Beth, the bride-to-be. Congratulations. Have you enjoyed your err…chick do?’
They all laughed. He kept smiling, trying not to be intimidated by the three beautiful, confident women he’d invited in. Drunk women were a little frightening.
‘Thank you,’ Beth said. ‘We have just been on thehendo. But our train got cancelled.’
Oh, that was it.Hendo. Not chick do. His cheeks warmed a little.
‘Oh, okay,’ Noelle said like she’d just realised something and nudged Ashleigh. ‘He’s cute. We totally shouldn’t laugh at you for getting an English phrase wrong. I studied French in high school and I still can’t understand a word.’
They all nodded solemnly and said sorry.
‘You’re forgiven.’ He pointed to the door into the lounge. ‘Would you like to go sit and I’ll get you some food? You must be hungry.’
‘Starving.’ Beth clutched her stomach. ‘It’s all the dancing. Thank you. It’s all the dancing. Did I say that already?’
Noelle linked her arm through Beth’s and pulled her into the lounge.
Ashleigh turned to look at him, biting her lip. It was dark pink, a different colour lipstick to the one she usually wore. ‘Thank you for this. Their boyfriends will come and pick them up soon.’
She started taking off her coat, and he felt himself liquefy like chocolate over a steady heat. She was in a simple black dress with lacy sleeves and black knee-high heeled boots. Barely an inch of her flesh was on show and yet her every curve was hugged, every long sleek line of her body draped as though the dress loved her figure as much as he did.
‘Thank you for checking on Nan earlier too,’ she said, when he didn’t respond. He realised he was standing there staring at her like a stunned animal.
He gave a little shrug. ‘It’s no problem.’
She turned her back to him for a moment to hang her coat up and whatever else he might have been about to say dried up in his mouth. Through the curtain of her long blonde hair, he could see it wasn’t strictly true about her dress not showing an inch of skin. The back plunged down to nearly her waist, leaving the smooth expanse of her pale skin right there, exposed and merely inches away. Her delicate shoulder blades and the indentations of her spine. So beautiful. He wanted to press his lips right where the material kissed the dimples at the bottom of her back.
