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Chapter Fourteen
‘Thanks.’ Weaving throughthe tables, Brooke pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped outside. The air was still warm, although a slight breeze had developed, carrying Gerald’s voice as it seeped through the open pub windows. Pausing as the door closed behind her, Brooke tucked her hair behind her ears. There he was, sitting at a picnic table near the edge of the pub garden. Walking across to him, she perched on the wooden bench. ‘You okay?’
Looking across at her, he frowned. ‘I just needed a bit of fresh air, that’s all.’
‘Oh, right. Okay.’ Maybe Ollie and Diane had got it wrong. Maybe he didn’t like her like that after all. This was the perfect opportunity to tell her if he did. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes.’ He stood up, shoving his hands in his pockets. ‘Actually, I should get back to my grandma. Can you say bye to everyone for me, please?’
‘Umm, okay.’ That was it. He didn’t. Ollie must have taken whatever he’d said to him the wrong way. He obviously just liked her as a friend. And that was fine. She ran her finger along the rough wooden edge of the table. She had seen him as a friend too. Right up until Ollie and Diane had suggested he might feel differently towards her. It had only been then that... She closed her eyes. No, he was a friend. She wouldn’t have thought any differently if it hadn’t been for them and they’d got it wrong. He was a friend, and she was happy with that. Opening her eyes, she watched as he crossed the road and continued up the hill.
Standing up, she turned back to the pub. That was that.
‘Hey, Beatrice! You two had a falling out again?’
Snapping her head around, it took her a few moments to work out who had spoken, and that it had been her they’d been speaking to. Barely two metres from the pub door, she watched as Jeremy stepped out of his flash yellow sports car.
‘Maybe he’s better off as an ex after all.’ Jeremy threw his keys in the air before catching them with one hand.
‘No, I...’ What was she supposed to say? Should she just go back into the pub or would he follow and make a scene? Did it matter if he made a scene? She could just head straight for their table; he’d leave her alone if he saw she was with a lot of people.
‘We could always have another date? Try again?’
‘No, I’m with Max.’ Keeping her eyes fixed on the door, she walked a bit faster. ‘Besides, as soon as our date was over, you began chatting to other girls.’
‘You’re jealous.’
‘What? No. Sorry, I really need to get back to my friends.’ She placed her hand on the door handle and pulled, grateful she hadn’t followed Max further up the hill.
‘I’m sure they won’t mind waiting, Beatrice.’
She felt the sticky warmth of his hand covering hers before she looked and realised what was happening. As she tugged hers from beneath his, the door swung shut. Turning around, she glared at him. ‘Please leave me alone.’
‘Okay, okay. No need to shout.’ Jeremy held his hands up, palms forward, a sly grin spreading across his face. ‘You...’
‘Brooke, is everything okay?’ Max’s voice cut across his and she felt his presence next to her.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded.
‘Good.’
Brooke could feel Max’s arm around her waist as he steered her away from the pub and away from Jeremy.
‘Keep walking.’ Max spoke quietly, his mouth close to her ear.
She nodded as they crossed the road. She could hear the rev of Jeremy’s engine as he drove away down the hill. ‘Thank you.’
‘What was he saying?’
‘He was just trying to get another date. He thought we’d had an argument, and you were my ex again.’
