Page 6 of The F*ck-It List

“If it’s not for you, you’ve moved to the wrong place,” I grit out, doing nothing to hide my distain, arms coming to fold over my chest.

The stranger snaps their amused gaze to me, taking in my stature and arching an assessing brow. I’m waiting for them to comment on my height just as everyone does when they first see me, but they just look me up and down and grin. “I see we’re not all smiles and rainbows.”

I’m about to rip them a new one when another voice interrupts my tirade. “Oh my God, I think my boobs are sweating.”

Out the open door of the cottage comes a woman, shorter than her companion, and wearing far less clothing; just short-shorts and a tank top. Purely because of her words, my gaze dips to the cleft of her cleavage where, yep, a bead of sweat trickles between her tits. Really nice tits. The newest member of this little gathering stutters to a halt when she sees us standing with her friend, a pink blush colouring her cheeks when she realises her statement was heard by four sets of ears and not one.

“Oh, hello,” she says, full lips curving into a sweet smile and her hand coming up in an awkward wave. Her hair is bubble-gum pink, swishing in a long ponytail tied high on her head. When her eyes land on me, they’re the deepest blue. She looks up at me, her expression morphing into shock. “Woah, you’re really tall.”

Keeping my face otherwise blank, I arch one brow. “Great observation. No one’s even said that to me before.”

She jerks back in surprise. “Really?”

“Babe,” the colourful one says. “Remember we talked about sarcasm.”

“Oh right,” Pink Hair giggles. “Sorry, it’s been a day, my brain is frazzled.” Holding out a hand to me, she smiles so wide and bright, it feels like the sun’s been turned up, not that I let myself be drawn into the warmth. “I’m Bea.”

I look at her offered hand, keeping my arms folded tight to my chest and the moment grows awkward for a second before Eli jumps in to save the day. Chivalrous prick.

“Hi, I’m Eli, this is Joanie.” He gestures to my sister, who gives a polite smile, then he slaps me on the shoulder. “This is August, don’t pay him any attention. He was born with a stick up his butt and we’re still waiting for it to be removed.” He clenches his fist in front of his mouth and forces his voice to crack. “Any day now.”

Joanie snorts next to me and Bea’s friend cackles loudly. “I like you,” they say to Eli, who dips his head in a modest bow.

“August,” Bea says, looking up at me with an expression far too kind for the one I’m giving her. “Great name.”

From anyone else, it may have sounded flirty, but from this woman, it came across annoyingly genuine. She seems to be unwaveringly perky against my surliness, her and Eli are going to be friends, I can feel it.Groans internally.

“I guess your birthday is August?” she continues, not picking up on my unwillingness to converse.

“No,” I grumble.

Her eyes dart around like she’s thinking. “May?”

Well, that’s stumped me. “Yes.”

“Ah.” She nods knowingly. “So, you were conceived in August.”

Thirty-three years I’d managed to live my life without thinking too hard about the origins of my name and then this pink-haired ray of fucking sunshine just had to waltz in and lay it out on the table like that.

“Well,” Joanie pipes up. “Now we all know.”

“So, you two have taken on the old shop?” Eli swiftly changes the subject, pointing to the shop window next door to where we stand.

The two of them look at each other and grin before turning back to us. “Just me,” Bea says. “Cas and I aren’t a couple. They’re just helping me move and they’ll be heading back to London on Sunday.” They both pout.

“What are your plans with the place?” Joanie asks. “We heard it was a restaurant?” Her palpable excitement grates on my nerves.

“Not quite,” Bea says with a warm smile. God, she’s pretty, all sapphire blue eyes and shimmering pink lips. But I shuffle on my feet and strengthen my resolve not to be bewitched by a pretty face and truly spectacular cleavage. “I’m opening a café, daytime only. Just somewhere people can get a decent cup of coffee. I was surprised there wasn’t a coffee place here already.”

“There is,” I say, my voice sounding grumpy even to my own ears. “The pub does coffee.”

Eli sighs next to me and holds his hand up almost apologetically to our new neighbour. “I own the pub; my friend is being generous. We do a filter coffee for anyone who asks for one…which is no one.”

Bea looks between me and Eli for a moment, usure what to do with my defensiveness. She chooses to ignore it and instead beams at Eli. “You’re the landlord? That’s awesome.”

I can’t remember the last time I heard someone say awesome unironically.

“You mean you’re opening an actual café, with actual coffee?” Joanie says, her eyes morphing into little hearts.