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“Huh, trust a reformed womaniser to fling moral shit.”
“We do it best,” Aaron mocked, “like reformed smokers.”
“Don’t choke on your virtue, your holiness.” Polly grinned, trying not to think of a certain someone with the smoking vice.
Alice shoved Aaron out the way and took up the screen. “What are you up to, Poll?”
Polly skimmed the phone down her body. “You may be surprised but I’m about to go for a run.”
A frown pulled Alice’s brows down. “Really? That’s not like you. Are you okay? When we spoke on Sunday, you sounded a bit—”
“Bit what?”
“I don’t know, a bit flat, I guess.”
Polly painted a bright smile on her face. “All good. Totally fine.”
“You aren’t feeling bad about Jake being off-limits?”
“Nope. The wedding was fantastic. Has Rowena arrived yet?”
“Next week. She’s still swanning around Bangkok indulging in green curry and daily massages.” Alice laughed.
Which somehow led to a conversation about strawberries and cream at Wimbledon, and how Bath buns differed from Chelsea buns, which only made Polly’s mouth water. When they said their farewells, Polly chucked her phone down, did a little warm-up jog on the spot, then took a big breath to prepare herself and flung open the front door. And let out a surprised yelp.
A tall spectre lurked in the shadows of the porch.
Polly’s hand flew up and clutched at the front of her Lululemon T-shirt. “Jesus, Carts! You scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?”
“I need some advice.” Carts shifted from foot to foot.
Polly sighed and looked down at her thighs, quite sure they were mocking her. It was getting dark, it had been a long day at work, and frankly she was weak from hunger. Her resolve wavered.
Carts presented a bottle of wine from behind his back.
Her resolve vanished.
“Pressie. Wine in exchange for dating advice.”
Polly groaned. “This better not be about who I think it is.”
Carts’ face took on its stricken sheepdog look. “Pleeease, Poll. I just want a bit of background info.”
She stared at the wine. Her tongue tip licked her bottom lip and her stomach growled loudly. She thought of the pallid, porridgy soup congealing in the fridge.
“Pizza.” It was out of her mouth before she could halt it. “Get a pizza delivered and I’m all yours.”
Carts’ face morphed into almost handsome as his grin widened. “Now you’re talking.”
“Not literally, you understand. You and me, Carts. Not a good combo.”
He laughed, pulled out his phone and handed her the bottle of wine.
Running and nasty tasteless lemon rice soup could go take a hike… at least until tomorrow.
* * *
Never hadpepperoni and mushrooms tasted quite so delicious. Polly gulped and tried to slow the onslaught of teeth meeting pizza crust. She was behaving like a pig at the trough, having already devoured one more slice than Carts. He was nibbling almost gracefully at his piece, and observing her with the expectant look of someone about to hear some startling revelation. When all she had for him was bad news.
