Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,88

her around cuz she’s married to my best friend.”

“Outrageous!” Kelly hollered.

The cafe’s patrons seemed unperturbed by this entire exchange. Laura got the feeling it happened a lot.

“Just so you know,” Samir said, “I meant that in a good way. You know, like, well done! There’s a baby in there! Sharing your oxygen! You look great.”

That last sentence was sudden and blunt enough to make her blush, heat prickling across her chest. Jesus, she was blushing a lot recently. Must be a pregnancy thing. “Thanks,” she said, hopefully sounding like the epitome of cool, instead of a tomato with vocal chords—which she totally was.

“Don’t thank me. Come and sit down.”

“Um… Okay?”

His grip on her wrist loosened, and for a moment she worried that he might let go.

Well, not worried. It would’ve been fine if he’d let go. Definitely.

But he didn’t, in the end. His palm slid down to meet hers, and then, somehow, they were holding hands. He led her to the back of the cafe, skirting past cute little tables with piles of seashells at their centres, towing her like a rowboat. She stepped over a sleeping guide dog as Samir said to its owner, “Give up yet, Bex?”

The woman sitting by the dog clicked her tongue. “Piss off. I’ll have it by tomorrow, I bet.”

“We’ll see.” They reached a row of cream-and-red leather booths, and Samir slid in on one side as Laura took the other. Lowering his voice, he leaned over the table and explained, “We have this weekly riddle competition. It’s complicated. She thinks she’s smarter than me.”

“Is she smarter than you?” Laura whispered back.

“Depends on who you ask. But, just between us, God, yes.”

Laura laughed, leaning back against the booth’s soft cushions. “You know, this is cool. This whole place.” And it was. If she remembered correctly, last time she’d been in Beesley, this lot had been a typical, greasy seaside cafe. Now it was a pretty, clean seaside cafe with a wonderful smell emanating from the kitchen and Samir’s name on the menus. She wondered exactly how that had come to pass. She wondered a lot of things about Samir, actually. But she wasn’t quite sure how to go about getting answers.

She should’ve known he’d make it easy for her, though. He always had.

“Thanks,” he grinned. “You know what? I worked my arse off for years, saving up so I could open a place like this. And I was so fucking close. Then my parents died and left us about twice as much as I’d saved.” He rolled his eyes. “Sod’s law. Worked out great, really. But we’re not here to talk about me, are we?”

“I don’t know,” she said nervously. “Couldn’t we be here to talk about you? I’d like to talk about you.”

He looked at her for a minute—just looked, dark eyes drilling into her in a way that dragged her back through time. He’d always had this ability to know, behind all his laughter and irreverent charm, when it was time to be serious. Apparently, he still had the knack, because his voice gentled and he said, “You don’t need to worry, angel. I’m not going to grill you or anything. I just want to catch up.”

She wet her lips nervously. “Okay. Cool.”

“You want a drink? Shit, I should’ve gotten you a drink. Are you hungry?”

“Um… no,” she lied, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

He snorted. “You’re a horrible liar. Five minutes of looking after a pregnant woman and I’m already starving you. You want an omelette?”

“You’re not looking after me,” she said indignantly.

He arched a brow as if to say, that’s what you think. “Clearly I’m doing a piss-poor job of it. Omelette; yes, no, other?”

“Um… well, I wouldn’t say no to an omelette, actually. With ham. And cheese. And maybe some chips. And a salad,” she added, even though she didn’t want a salad at all. Vitamins were good for the baby, so she made it her mission to stuff down as many green things as possible.

“Coming up,” he said, sliding out of the booth with a wink.

Oh dear. Oh dear.

She really, really wished he hadn’t winked.

Samir stuck his head through the little window that separated cafe from kitchen and called in to Max, “Ham and cheese omelette with everything.”

Max looked up from the hissing hob, whiskey-brown eyes sharp. “Where’s the ticket?”

“No ticket.”

His face split into a grin. “Ah. Would this be for your lady friend, then?”

“Jesus. Do you and Kelly do anything other than talk?”

“Oh, yes,” Max said, eyes