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He was looking at her with cool amusement, as though he somehow knew what a pathetic, depressing day she’d had yesterday. She was pretty sure Quinn Hamilton would not have spent his birthday drugging himself to sleep in an attempt to blot out the big 3–0. He’d probably spent it having sex with Lucy Donohue on a speedboat, or doing some luxurious couples spa day where you got matching dressing gowns and a salt body scrub, followed by a nut-based salad on a scenic veranda. ‘You?’
‘I spent most of it asleep in the end,’ said Quinn. ‘Tuesday was a big night.’ His eyes flashed her a conspiratorial look. Minnie cleared her throat and swallowed – was he teasing her or was he telepathic?
As they turned the corner of the street, Minnie saw an enormous black Bentley taking up most of the side road behind their building. It let out two high-toned beeps as Quinn unlocked it with a key fob.
‘This is your car?’ Minnie asked. ‘You’re kidding me, I can’t drive that.’
‘Why not?’ Quinn asked, throwing her the keys. She caught them in one hand, savouring her unlikely catch with an internal high-five.
‘It’s the size of a tank. A very expensive tank.’
Who drove a Bentley, and in this part of London? Minnie stood staring at the car, unsure what to do or say next.
‘It’s insured for anyone to drive. I’ll swing by and pick it up tomorrow.’ Quinn gave a staccato salute with his hand, then turned and started walking away.
‘Hey wait, you’re not serious?’ Minnie said, her voice squeaky with panic. ‘I honestly can’t drive this. I don’t drive in London much and when I do it’s only Greg’s Mini.’
‘Your boyfriend drives a Mini?’
Quinn turned back to face her, his eyes dancing with amusement.
‘Don’t start with the Mini Cooper jokes,’ Minnie said, her eyes narrowing.
Quinn took a large stride towards her. Minnie’s body tensed, the confidence of his gait slightly intimidating. He reached out a hand, sweeping the keys from her grasp, his fingers grazing her palm.
‘I’ll drive you then.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t want to drive the car, I don’t have plans, I’ll take you where you need to go.’
Minnie started making shapes with her mouth to object, but she couldn’t think of anything to say. She also lacked anyother options for how she was going to get everything delivered today.
Quinn followed her back into the kitchen to help her collect the pies for delivery. Leila and Bev hadn’t quite finished packing pies into cases, and Quinn cheerfully rolled up his sleeves to help with the last bits of labelling and packing.
‘These smell amazing,’ he said, taking a long slow inhale as he held one of the boxes in his hands. ‘What’s in here?’
‘That there is steak and Guinness,’ said Leila, handing him a label, ‘and these are chicken and vegetable, our two most popular flavours.’
‘I thought we were calling them Steak Gyllenhaal and Chick Jagger?’ said Minnie.
‘No,’ Leila said, shaking her head. ‘None of our customers liked those names.’
Quinn laughed as he held a box up to his nose. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever smelt a pie this good.’
‘Don’t suck all the smell out, that’s the best bit,’ said Leila, taking the box from his hands.
‘It’s the buttery pastry that makes them smell like that,’ Bev explained, ‘Minnie’s secret recipe.’
‘It’s not a secret, Bev, it’s just butter,’ Minnie laughed. ‘Butter makes everything great.’
‘Yeah, everything,’ said Fleur, gently tugging her lower lip down with the pad of her middle finger. Minnie glared at her. Leila steered Fleur out of the way, with a hand on each shoulder, then started ushering Minnie and Quinn out of the door.
‘Anyway, you guys should head off. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on, you know, first of January stuff.’
She and Bev followed them out to the car to help load the last of the boxes into the boot.
‘Blimey, people are going to think they’re paying us too much,’ said Bev.
