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“Does your friend work here also?”
“Mel?”
“I didn’t catch her name.”
“No, Mel’s like you—just up here visiting family for the holidays. She’s taking a slightly longer break though, as she recently left her job and is taking her time before deciding what to do next.”
“Ah.”
“She’s incredibly clever, and is being headhunted by about a dozen firms,” Charlotte supplied with pride. He hadn’t asked but since when did that get between a best friend and her right to brag?
“What does she do?”
“She’s an executive assistant. The kind who works for Prime Ministers and Kings and billionaire CEOs who need their life organised to a tee. She is fastidious, meticulous, smart, versatile, speaks about seven languages, and dedicates herself three thousand percent to any job she has. Which is why she’s taking time to make sure it’s the right fit. If you’re going to make your job your life, you want to make sure it’s worth it, yeah?”
“Makes sense.”
“And you speak from experience?” She prompted, flicking off the steamer once it started to scream, banging the bottom of the jug gently on the countertop before angling one of the cups and letting the milk pour in, leaving a beautiful pattern in the top of the crema.
“I was fortunate to find what I love to do.”
“Which is?”
“The family business.”
Charlotte repeated the milk pour with the other coffee, then added a drift of chocolate to hers before handing Alessio’s over the bar.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little.”
“I’ve just made a batch of pastries, but I’m happy to cook you something if you’d prefer—,”
“Something light would be fine.”
“Great. Did you want to take a seat—,”
“There’s one in the kitchen,” he said with a challenge in his eyes, so her pulse speeded up and she spun away before he could see the pink of her cheeks.
Holding her coffee in both hands, she shouldered through the kitchen door, keeping it open with one foot as he followed.
There had been no other guest, in the whole time she’d worked at the pub, who’d had this kind of access to the kitchen. None who’d acted as though this were a social visit rather than a paid hotel stay. Despite it being unusual, she really didn’t mind at all.
He stood opposite her, right beside the seat Melody had recently occupied and Charlotte’s eyes lifted to the clock above the door. Dash would be asleep for another hour or so, there was no need for her to rush.
“You’re sure you wouldn’t like something cooked?”
“These look great.”
She glowed with warmth.
“I love pastries,” she admitted. “They’re not really my specialty, but I can’t resist making a big batch whenever I can. I freeze them, so we’ve got them on hand for guests as needed. They reheat really well…” she realised she was babbling and stopped speaking immediately. “But we’re supposed to be talking about you.”
He sipped his coffee then reached for a croissant. On autopilot, she fished a plate from behind her and handed it to him.
“Are we?”
“You’re singing for your supper, remember?”
