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“That’s Dame Joanna Lumley to you, peasant.” She adjusted her glasses and peered intently at the camera. AKA, me.
I inclined my head. “Understood.”
“Thank you for your deference tomyqueen,” she replied. “Now, it’s really quite simple. You shag the man senseless and have one hell of a writing retreat and get material for books upon books, or you sit there in your very big lodge, feeling sorry for yourself, pining after a bit of cock.”
That was quite the statement.
“All right. Well, we’re done here,” I said, reaching forwards.
“Ellie May Aarons, don’t you hang up on me.”
“Goodnight, Meg. Love you.” I shut the lid of the laptop to her shouting my name and rolled onto my back.
That entire conversation was my fault.
I knew what she was going to tell me, let’s be honest. That was why I’d called her.
I was seriously considering taking Max up on his offer.
What? It wasn’t like I was getting it anywhere else, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I was attracted to him, and he’d admitted that he was to me, and if it didn’t work in the bedroom, then there was no harm done.
Right?
My phone pinged from the table in front of me, and I reached for it.
UNKNOWN: What are you doing tomorrow?
ME: I’m not giving you my bank details.
That’s what an unknown number was, right?
UNKNOWN: I already have them.
ME: Well, RIP my savings account.
UNKNOWN: I’m not sure what worries me more—that you’re writing off your savings or aren’t panicking at all.
ME: Scammers aren’t interested in my daily schedule, Max.
ME: At least I’m hoping this is Max. If not, it’s rather awkward.
UNKNOWN: It’s Max.
ME: How do I know? Can you prove it? Preferably not with my bank details.
UNKNOWN/Max: Your cat likes to sleep in my goat barn.
That was fair. I wasn’t sure anyone else would be privy to that little nugget of information.
ME: All right. Max. What do you want?
Max: What it says on the tin. What are you doing tomorrow?
ME: Probably staring at a blank page on my laptop and debating my life choices. Why?
Max: I was going to ask you if you’d like to have dinner, but that seems far more enthralling.
ME: Have dinner? With YOU? Like a date?
