want the damn thing, not really. Mostly I wanted to keep mom’s goals alive and kicking, but also, it pissed me off the way Acuig were changing Hell’s Kitchen. Ratcheting up prices, making it unaffordable for the everyday man and woman—the people I’d grown up with—and bringing a shit-ton of banker-wankers and 1%ers to the area.
So, maybe I’d watched Erin Brockovich a time or two as a kid and had a social conscience . . . Wasn’t the worst thing to possess, right?
“Aoife?” Jenny stated, making me look over at her. “Is Acuig pressuring you?”
I winced, realizing I hadn’t answered—Jenny was my friend, but she also worked here and relied on the paycheck. It wasn’t fair of me to keep her hanging like that. “They upped the sales price. I guess that isn’t helping,” I admitted, frowning down at my hands.
Unlike Jenny who had her nails manicured, mine were cut neatly and plain. I had no rings on my fingers, and wore no watch or bracelets because my wrists were usually deep in flour or sugar bags.
I spent most of my life right where I wanted it—behind the shopfront. That had slowly morphed where I was doing double the work to compensate for Mom’s loss.
Was it any wonder I was feeling a little out of my league?
I was coping without Fiona, grieving Mom, working without her, too, and then practically living in the kitchens here. I didn’t exactly have that much of a life. I had nothing cheerful on the horizon, either.
Well, nothing except for next Tuesday, and that wasn’t enough to turn my frown upside down.
The money was a temptation. I didn’t need to sell up and start working on my own goals, but that just loaded me down with more guilt and made me feel like a really shitty daughter.
Jenny squeezed me in a gentle hug. But as I turned to speak to her, the bell above the door rang as it opened. We both jerked in surprise—each of us apparently thinking the other had locked up when neither of us had—and turned to face the entrance.
On the brink of telling the client we were closed for the day, my mouth opened then shut.
Standing there, amid the frilly, lacy curtains, was the most masculine man I’d ever seen in my life.
And I meant that.
It was like a thousand aftershave models had morphed into one handsome creature that had just walked through my door.
At my side, I could feel Jenny’s ‘hot guy radar’ flare to life, and for once, I couldn’t damn well blame her.
This guy was . . . well, he was enough to make me choke on my words and splutter to a halt.
The tea room was all girly femininity. It was sophisticated enough to appeal to businesswomen with its mauve, taupe, and cream-toned hues, and the ethereal watercolors that decorated the walls. But the tablecloths were lacy, and the china dishes and cake stands we used were the height of Edwardian elegance.
Moms brought their little girls here for their birthday, and high-powered executives spilled dirt on their lovers with their girlfriends over scones and clotted cream—breaking their diets as they discussed the boyfriends who had broken their hearts.
The man, whoever the hell he was, was dressed to impress in a navy suit with the finest pinstripe. It was close to a silver fleck, and I could see, even from this distance, that it was hand tailored. I’d seen custom tailoring before, and only a trained eye could get a suit cut so perfectly to this man’s form.
With wide shoulders that looked like they could take the weight of the world, a long, lean frame that was enhanced by strong muscles evident through the close fit of his pants and jacket, then the silkiness of his shirt which revealed delineated abs when his bright gold and scarlet tie flapped as he moved, the guy was hot.
With a capital H.
“How can we help, sir?” Jenny purred, and despite my own awe, I had to dip my chin to hide my smile.
Even if I wanted to throw my hat into this particular man’s game, there was no way he’d choose me over Jenny. Fuck, I’d screw her, and I wasn’t even a lesbian. Not even a teensy bit bi. I’d gone shopping with her enough to have seen her ass, and I promise you, it’s biteable.
So, nope. I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of this Adonis seeing me when Jenny was in the room.