Harlequin E New Adult Romance Box Set Volume 1: Burning Moon\Girls' Guide to Getting It Together\Rookie in Love (43 page)

“Who’s that he’s with?”

“One of my mum’s neighbours. Sadie Double-Barrel Surname.”

Zara chuckles. “I see.”

“Knows how to throw a party, your mum,” Gary observes.

“If you’re into this kind of thing.” I gesture to the fairy lights strung around the house.

“Should we go mingle or something?” Zara scans the people milling around the garden.

I look around for someone who is at least mildly interesting enough for me to introduce to Zara.

I’m surveying the garden for the second time when my eyes lock on a determined-looking woman wearing a brown fur hat heading our way.

Oh shit. It’s Auntie Wendy.

She’s probably heard that I broke her son’s heart. Or she thinks I’m somehow responsible for her daughter’s misguided relationship.

From the way she’s looking at me with her eyes narrowed, it’s most likely a combination of the two.

I edge closer to the buffet table, wondering if she’ll notice if I duck underneath the snowman-patterned tablecloth to hide.

But she’s so close now I can smell her overbearing floral perfume.

“Megan,” she says when she reaches me, “how delightful to see you.”

“Lovely to see you, too,” I falter.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be coming tonight.”

“Oh?” I try to smile but I’m sure it comes off more like a grimace. “Didn’t my mum tell you?”

“Well, she’s been so busy preparing everything.” Wendy spreads her arms in her heavy parka and gestures to the decorations.

“She’s done a lovely job, hasn’t she?” I remark.

“Splendid.” Wendy inclines her head to look at the fairy lights.

I kick one boot-clad foot against the damp grass, unsure of what to say next.

Behind me, Gary and Zara having a hushed conversation as Cliff stops singing and Shane MacGowan slurs the first verse of The Pogues’ “Fairytale of New York.”

“It would have been a good engagement party, as well,” I say, desperate to fill the silence.

Of course it’s the wrong thing to say.

Wendy turns her sharp eyes on me, and I take an awkward step sideways.

Oh, God. I should have picked the hide-under-the-table escape route.

“What do you mean?” she snaps.

“Nothing…I just…” I pause for time, trying to think of a new subject. “My mum always throws a good party.”

Wendy gives me a surveying look. “I suppose she does.”

I glance at Zara again, hoping she’ll notice my plight and intervene. But she’s too busy getting lost in Gary’s axe-murderer eyes or something.

“Bryony was supposed to be here.”

“Right,” I say, trying to play along that attending your cancelled engagement party is normal behaviour. “Mum said she couldn’t make it.”

“You’ll have heard all about it, won’t you?”

I grip my glass of mulled wine more tightly. “About what?”

“My daughter and the medical sciences lecturer.”

“I ran into Bryony the other day.” I don’t mention Oxfam, in the hope that she won’t, either. “Nick seems…nice.”

“Nice?” she echoes with a shrill laugh. “That’s what we all thought about Jeremy.”

“I’m sure she knows what she’s doing,” I say, keen to get off the subject. As satisfying as it is to hear about the perfect Bryony Hudson’s downfall, it doesn’t make for an awkward-free conversation.

“Our Tim’s my only hope now.” She turns her adoring mother eyes on him. “Do you know Sadie? She’s Michael Prior-Greenman’s youngest.”

I study the posh blonde girl Tim is talking to. Of course I know Sadie bloody Prior-Greenman. My mum and Phil befriended her golf-club, pony-owning family when they moved next door.

“Yes. Don’t they make such a great couple?”

“Tim deserves a bit of happiness.” She lifts her head high.

I nod and smile politely.

Where’s my mum with her serving tray of mulled wine when I need her? And why hasn’t Zara noticed me suffering over here?

“Well, I should go…erm…” I search the garden desperately for a reasonable excuse to leave. “Oh, look! There’s Jeremy.”

I march across the garden towards a lonely Jeremy before Wendy has any chance of stopping me.

He takes a swig of beer and looks away when he sees me approaching. He looks so out of place standing here all by himself at what was supposed to be his own bloody party. God knows why he bothered showing up.

“Jeremy! Hi.”

He nods stiffly in my direction without meeting my eyes. “Megan.”

“How are you doing?” I ask for lack of anything better to say.

I’m not sure if I’m expecting him to do a merry little dance and tell me that being single again is the best thing in the world, but I’m left shocked when he finishes off the contents of his drink and stares directly at me. “Are you taking the piss?”

“What?” I take a tiny step backwards. “No. Of course not. I was—”

“Don’t bother.” He waves the empty bottle at me. “I’ve had enough sympathy.”

Well, I suppose being sympathetic is better than taking the piss.

“Bryony’s a bitch,” I say.

He drops the bottle on the ground and looks at me. “I thought you two were friends.”

“Really? What gave you that impression? Weren’t you there when she accused me of nicking her stupid bloody engagement ring?”

“Hey, that stupid bloody engagement ring is a family antique.”

“Sorry,” I say. “Did you get it back?”

He nods. “Not that I can propose to anybody else with it.”

“You could always try selling it,” I suggest, the smile on my face hopefully conveying the humour.

The corners of his mouth creep up into the hint of a smile. “Who’d buy it? It isn’t the most attractive of rings.”

I recall the twisted pattern looping over a single pale gemstone. Why Bryony would accuse anybody of trying to steal it is beyond me. Maybe she was trying to get rid of it so Jeremy would buy her a new one.

“Any idea how much it’s worth?”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t, anyway. Not while Grandma Pearl is still alive. It was her mother’s ring,” he explains.

“Don’t tell anybody I said this, but I think you’ve had a lucky escape with Bryony. Imagine having Wendy as a mother-in-law.”

He laughs and glances down at my empty wine glass. “Aren’t you going to get another drink?”

“Yes. I don’t suppose you’ve seen my mother, have you?”

She’s talking to Tim and Sadie, the silver tray still holding a few full glasses of mulled wine balanced on her left hand. The three of them probably won’t notice if I stride past and swipe a glass.

The booze is the only thing that’s going to get me through this party. God knows where Zara’s disappeared to. So much for keeping her creepy boyfriend in my sights.

I freeze inches from my mother and her mulled wine. Oh, my God. There’s a field at the back of Mum’s house. What if Gary’s dragged Zara off there? I stand on tiptoes and crane my neck as though I’m going to be able to see her through the trees at the back of the garden, never mind hear her screams over Noddy Holder belting out the chorus to “Merry Xmas Everybody.”

“Megan, darling.” My mother turns and stares at me with a puzzled expression. “What on earth are you doing?”

The heels of my boots sink back into the grass and I try to smile at the three curious faces in front of me. “I was just…” I drop my empty wine glass on the tray and reach for a new one. “Thanks.”

“These were supposed to be for Martin and Adele.” She shifts the tray onto her other hand. “They’re on their way.”

“Adele doesn’t like mulled wine,” I tell her, taking a quick sip before she can confiscate my glass.

“Really?” Mum frowns. “Are you sure? I thought it was advocaat she didn’t drink.”

“Oh, maybe I’m getting her confused with somebody else,” I say with a determined gulp.

There. Half gone. She definitely can’t take it back now.

“Where has Zara got to?” Mum asks. “Sadie here was just saying how she’s hoping to get her article published.”

I glance at Sadie Prior-Greenman in her novelty reindeer jumper, brown trench coat and navy jodhpurs. I doubt Zara has any expertise to share with this woman.

“I’m sure I’ve seen her,” says Tim, “over at the buffet table.”

“I’ll go look for her,” I volunteer, but Sadie calls me back.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity to speak with her before you three leave. Does she write for a magazine, then?”

I press my lips together and mumble, “She’s freelance.”

“What’s her name?” Sadie asks. “Perhaps I’ve heard of her.”

She won’t have heard of Zara Thomas, and I doubt Sadie is the sort of girl who cares about anything written under the name Olivia Bright.

“It’s Zara Thomas,” I say, clenching my jaw.

“Zara Thomas.” Sadie clicks her tongue. “Don’t think I know her. Does she have a specialist area?”

I look away, my eyes landing on the remaining glass of mulled wine protectively held on my mother’s tray. Why does she get me into situations like this?

“Doesn’t she write about girly stuff?” Tim chimes in.

“Girly stuff?” Sadie wrinkles her nose.

Tim shrugs and looks to me to elaborate. “That’s right, isn’t it, Megan? I’m sure that’s what she said when I met her that time at your flat.”

Oh, God. Why would he bring that up? How does he even remember?

“That’s…right,” I say.

Sadie plays with the loose belt on her trench coat. “Oh, well then I don’t think—”

“Zara!” I suddenly spot her talking to Phil over by the house. “Excuse me,” I say, flashing them a polite smile.

They’ve disappeared through the French doors into the kitchen by the time I get there. Zara and Gary are sitting on stools by the counter island while Phil gathers some mugs from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” I step inside the warm kitchen.

“Oh, hi Megan,” Phil says. “Would you like a coffee?”

I shake my head and stare at Zara.

“We’re just having this drink,” she says, “and then we’re getting off. Gary’s brother’s invited us to his wine bar. You don’t mind, do you?”

I turn to Gary. “Your brother has a wine bar?”

Okay, maybe he isn’t an axe murderer.

He nods. “That’s where I retreat to after I’ve been running.”

I lean against the island. “To be honest, I was thinking of going home myself.”

Zara nods as the kettle boils and Phil starts making them coffee. “We’re going into town. Want to share a taxi back?”

I glance at the clock on the wall. “We can still make the last bus. I’ll go say bye to Mum.”

Back outside, the party is in full swing, with a group of guests swaying along to the music. I spot Sadie and Tim amongst them and stop for a moment to watch Tim’s hilarious dance moves, inadvertently catching his eye.

Seconds later, he’s striding across the grass towards me. “I suppose you think it’s funny, seeing me with somebody who might actually like me,” he says when he reaches me.

“Of course not.” I suddenly notice how drunk he looks, his dark eyes glazed over. “Sadie’s great.”

“Amazing, isn’t she? Oh, Christ, do you think she’s really interested in me?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” I regret the words as soon as they slip past my lips.

“Why aren’t you?”

I swallow, searching for a way out of this situation.

Somebody breaks off from the group of dancers across the garden. It’s Sadie, with my mother close behind her.

I groan when I realise they’re heading this way.

And now Auntie Wendy’s following, and Jeremy and somebody else I don’t recognise.

“What’s going on?” Sadie asks, her eyes locked on mine.

“Don’t you think you ought to be staying away from my son?” asks Wendy.

“I wasn’t…he just…” I break off, seeing that nothing I say is going to clear up this situation.

“Megan was just going to tell us all why she hates me so much,” Tim announces.

“Were you, love?” Mum says, gasping in horror. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

“That’s not—” I start to say, then I realise that Jeremy is saying something from the back of the crowd that’s started to gather and everybody is turning to listen to him instead.

He’s talking about how happy he is to have left the Hudson family behind for good, and Wendy’s turned away from me and looks ready to tackle him to the ground.

Maybe I could just sneak off. No one would notice, would they? They’re not even looking at me anymore.

The lights are still on in the kitchen, and I run back inside to find my guests.

After making Phil promise not to tell my mum that I’ve gone, I sneak out the front door and hop on the bus with Zara and Gary. The two of them ditch me for their swanky wine bar in town, and I get on a second bus home to Rothwell.

As I reach the set of steps up to the front door of my flat, a dark comes into view from a huddle on the top step.

I scream, losing my footing and toppling backwards onto the patch of grass the landlord calls a front garden.

The figure looms over me. “Are you okay?”

“Liam?” I peer up at him, making out the outline of his bulky leather jacket in the dark. “What are you doing here?”

He extends a hand to pull me up. “I’m being romantic.”

“Romantic?” We head back up the steps, but I push past him to insert my key in the lock. “You nearly gave me a heart attack! I’d hardly call that romance.”

“That was an unexpected side effect.”

I turn to face him as the door opens. “What did you think was going to happen when you hide on unsuspecting girls’ doorsteps?”

“I don’t know.” He scratches his head. “I can’t say I’ve ever done it before.”

“Well,” I say, stepping inside the flat, “maybe you should have looked it up online first. I’m sure there’s loads of advice on there.”

“Has something happened?” he asks. “You seem a little…off.”

“What are you doing here, really? Cut the romance crap. Did Scarlett tell you to say that?”

“Scarlett?” His face wrinkles in confusion. “Can I come in so we can talk about whatever it is?”

“There’s no point.” I grip the edge of the door.

“If I’m meant to have done something, I’d like to know what it is.”

“Why don’t you ask Scarlett?” I say, the bitterness creeping over my words. “I’m sure she’ll know what to do.”