I can rely on our hippy parents.
‘I think the best thing for ye girls to do would be to cut your losses, sell up to me and move back to England. God does love a trier, but enough is enough.’
‘Come on, Ella,’ I pull on her arm, needing to get away from the humiliation.
She turns and begins to walk with me back to the car.
‘Just like their aunt Breda. Mad as a fecking hatter.’
Oh no he didn’t! My nostrils flare, my fisted hands so tight my nails are cutting into my palm. Before I know it, I turn and march up to him.
I point my finger in his face. ‘You mark my words, you will regret underestimating us.’
I turn and walk back to the car.
‘Great.’ Ella sighs. ‘So, what’s the plan now?’
‘I have no idea.’
Chapter Eleven
Friday 25th September
‘I can’t believe we ever thought we’d be able to get away with that,’ I say to Ella the next morning as we’re re-stocking the bar. We don’t really need to, having only sold a few, but it beats the boredom.
She sighs. ‘At least we can say we tried.’
We also got home to find Suki had chewed at the leg of one of the tables. Separation anxiety according to Ella.
‘By the sounds of it he bloody deserves us stealing his staff. Saying we’d fail before we’d even begun. Cheeky bastard.’
It’s just confirmed we’ll have to put up and shut up with our chef.
‘We’ll be the bloody local laughing stock by lunch time. He’s sure to tell everyone.’ I rub my hand over my eyes, for a second forgetting my bandaged thumb. It zings with pain whenever I touch it. ‘It’s just so humiliating.’
‘Yeah, it is,’ a male voice says above us.
We both jump up to see Clooney leaning over the bar, that sexy cock sure smile on his annoying lips.
‘How the hell did you get in here?’ I snap accusingly. I was sure I’d locked the door.
‘Breda hid a key above the door. I’m surprised you haven’t removed it yet. Dangerous, that.’
‘Yeah, thanks for breaking in to show us how unsafe we are.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Anyway, I’m here to talk about the job.’
‘Job?’ Oh, the job he was going on about the other day. It already feels like a lifetime ago. I’d completely forgotten. ‘I’ll say it again. We don’t need anyone.’
He smiles, undeterred. ‘I’ve told you I’ll work for lodgings and food. And I have experience. From the sounds of it, you need a bit of local charm in here. The whole town is talking about you trying to steal The Dog and Duck’s chef.’
I turn to Ella, narrowing my eyes accusingly. ‘I told you.’ I face him again, studying his face to see if he’s genuine. ‘Why would you being here be helpful then?’
Since Garry I struggle to trust people.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’ His eyes twinkle. I have a feeling that twinkle turns a lot of perfectly intelligent women stupid. ‘I’m loved around here. You get me behind the bar and your takings will be up within the week.’
I scoff. He’s such a pompous dick. ‘You are so bloody full of yourself, it’s ridiculous.’
‘Ooi!’ someone shouts behind us. We all turn to see Chef walking in, his face red and blotchy, his eyes squinted. Jesus, what’s happened to him? ‘You two. English dickheads.’
Woah, did he actually just call us dickheads? To our face? We’re women. How rude.
He rolls his lip, basically snarling at us like a wolf. ‘The whole fecking town is talking about you trying to recruit another chef. I’ve never been so fecking mad in all my life.’
‘Alright, mate,’ Clooney says, standing protectively in front of us. ‘No need for that.’
‘There’s every need for it, Clooney!’ He peers round his broad chest. ‘You bitches can stick your fecking job where the sun don’t shine.’ He throws his uniform down on the bar and storms out, slamming the door behind him.
Well shit. Now we don’t have any chef. Just when we thought we might be turning a corner and actually making some profit eventually.
‘So,’ Clooney says, a shit eating grin on his face. ‘Looks like you’ll be needing a new chef. Seems like I’m moving in at just the right time.’
I grit my teeth. ‘I can’t just give you the job. I’ll have to interview you first.’
He grabs a bar stool and perches on it, without a care in the world. It’s infuriating how sexy he looks doing it, those muscles on his arms moving under the tribal looking tattoos.