The Little Shop of Afternoon Delights: 6 Book Romance Collection. Zara Stoneley
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me back to sunny summer days filled with the smell of hay and a wide expanse of blue sky, the taste of sweet crunchy apples and evenings that took forever to dim.
‘Sounds idyllic,’ he murmurs, echoing my thoughts. ‘So why freedom in theory?’
‘I’ve got three older brothers and one of them was always following me around keeping watch.’ I smile fondly. ‘It drove me nuts. I know they were just looking out for me, though.’
‘I can understand that. What else?’
‘Our family home is massive and on the outskirts of the village, with a duck pond next to it. My favourite part is the apple tree at the bottom of the garden. I used to love climbing it and throwing apples at my brothers’ heads.’ I laugh, then halt. Too much information, Charley, his eyes will start glazing over soon, wrap it up.
But he sighs and shares, ‘Sounds great to me. We had olive trees, but we weren’t allowed to climb them.’
‘We?’
‘I have a younger brother.’
‘Oh. Well I’m sorry if I’ve given you tree envy,’ I joke.
‘So you should be,’ he smiles.
There’s a silence and I realise we’re staring into each other’s eyes. ‘So er, anyway,’ I bluster, ‘I ah, met my best friend Jess when I started primary school and we ended up buying a flat together in the city.’
‘And what do your parents do?’
For someone so fiercely private he’s very interested in my life, but the more open I am, maybe the more he might trust me. ‘Dad was something in Defence for years, used to commute, got retired young, so chairs lots of committees on a voluntary basis. Mum devoted herself to us but took on charity work as we got older, running the WI, organising local events. I guess part of it is there’s family money and those are some of the expectations.’
‘Are your family well known in the village?’
‘You could say that!’ Laughing, I attempt to push the bitterness away. ‘They’ve always been the centre of everything. The spotlight was always on them. And on us.’ I didn’t mean to mention it, but he’s a good listener.
‘That was a problem?’
‘It taught me to be cautious,’ I admit, picking up my napkin and smoothing it out, ‘what people think of you matters in a small village. They don’t let you forget your mistakes in a hurry, that’s for sure.’ Absently, I fold the napkin at the corner, then back in on itself. ‘So you don’t take many risks.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Are you sure you want to hear this?’ I look up at him, fingers still working the napkin, folding and refolding.
‘Yes. Indulge me.’
‘Okay. Well, I tried to make Mum and Dad proud, but disappointed them when I moved to London. It was the only real risk I’ve ever taken, but I had to do it. As beautiful as the countryside is, staying in a rural community wasn’t for me. I wasn’t happy,’ I sigh, realising I’ve folded my napkin into a swan shape. Setting it aside, I laugh self-consciously. ‘I worked as a silver-service waitress in the next town over when I was seventeen. Anyway, me wanting to move away caused ructions and my parents spent months trying to talk me out of it. They’d rather I lived locally and got engaged to a nice village boy.’
‘So how did you manage to leave?’ Alex shrugs out of his suit jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair.
I won’t let my eyes wander down to check out his broad shoulders in the crisp blue shirt. Staring at his face, I admit, ‘In hindsight I could have been more mature, persuaded them it was my risk to take.’
‘And in reality?’ There’s a twinkle in his eye. He knows what’s coming.
‘I was eighteen. Let’s just say there was some bad behaviour.’ I roll my eyes, recalling my teenage flouncing and yelling. ‘They finally backed off when I declared I wasn’t going to live my life according to what other people wanted and was moving to the city whether they were happy about it or not, even if I had to live on the streets. I started packing a rucksack to make my point. Mature, hey?’
‘You were young,’ he excuses.
‘Yes, well … they didn’t exactly give me their blessing, but we stopped arguing at least,’ I smile wryly.
Too personal to share is that it’s still there between us. Going home is always tense. My parents love me but still don’t agree with my decision. The distance hurts but I’m not sure how to bridge it. It’s the reason they don’t know how broke I am or how close to failing. The plan is to tell them only if I absolutely have to. I don’t want them to think they were justified in the opinion that staying home would have been best for me. Whatever has happened, I’ll never regret making my own way in the world.
‘I know what you mean,’ Alex confides, a shadow crossing his face.
‘You ran away from home too?’ I try and lighten things, scrub the glint of unhappiness from his eyes.
‘No. Not quite.’ He goes still. ‘I never talk about it.’
But he needs to. ‘Well, I’ve trusted you with my teenage angst. Why not tell me about yours?’
‘It’s nothing controversial. Neither is it something exclusive to my teens. And it’s hardly angst. It was just what you said about the spotlight being on you.’ He picks the napkin swan up, turning it over between his long fingers. ‘I understand. Being part of a family-run organisation as successful and wealthy as ours doesn’t exactly give much opportunity for privacy. It’s always bothered me. That’s why I do the press conferences for the business when I have to, but don’t give interviews about anything else.’
I’ve got something in common with a billionaire. Who’d have thought it. Gazing into his gorgeous eyes, a shared moment of understanding flows between us and I gulp. I can’t do this.
‘That was pathetic,’ I tease to break the connection. ‘Tell me one of your actual secrets.’
‘It wouldn’t be secret if I told you. And besides,’ he says po-faced, ‘you’d have to sign a gagging order if I did.’
I’m not entirely sure he’s kidding.
‘You went to a state secondary school, right?’ Alex moves the subject on swiftly before I can comment on his surreal remark. ‘Why didn’t you go private?’
‘Mum said it would be good for us, give a better grounding in reality. I wouldn’t have wanted to go to a boarding school anyway.’
‘And why London rather than anywhere else?’
‘I left school with respectable grades, and took a Business Studies NVQ and a few A levels at the college in the nearest town. In the first year, I went on a theatre trip and fell in love with the city. After that it was just a question of time.
‘It’s great, so full of hustle and noise and people and shops and different places and experiences. It’s such a change after my childhood, was exactly what I wanted, no … needed. I wouldn’t want to raise children there but I’m a long way off that yet, so it’s not an issue.’ Woah, where did that come from? Why would he care about my plans to start a family one day? He doesn’t comment, but his expression goes shuttered and distant. TMI?
‘Did you go to uni?’ he simply asks. ‘Or have a gap year?’
‘No, straight to London. I did plan to go to Africa as a volunteer, help build schools and see a bit of the world.’
‘But?’
‘But I missed the application window.’
‘Why’s that?’
I glance away and mutter something.
‘Sorry,