“Hi,” the actress one says, sticking out her hand. “We never officially met. My name is Sandra.”
“Hi Sandra,” I tell her, giving her hand a firm squeeze, impressed at the strength of her handshake. Very professional. “Nice to meet you. What can I, uh, do for you all?”
“Your accent is amazing,” Sandra says, gushing. “So maybe just keep talking.”
Valerie clears her throat and steps forward. “I didn’t have your phone number and I wanted to talk to you, so I had a taxi drive us around until I recognized your place.”
I raise my brows. That’s the last thing I thought she would have done.
“It didn’t take too long,” Sandra says. “The driver knew where you lived anyway.”
“Say what?” That’s concerning.
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure he’s cool. Can we come inside?”
“Of course,” I say, opening the door wider. I’m in such shock that she’s here that my manners have slipped.
They come inside, and the actress immediately starts poking around the living room, looking at books and rugby trophies and framed pictures.
I offer the three of them some espresso to which they all eagerly accept, and while I get the machine whirring, Angie pulls up a stool at the kitchen island and stares at me while I work.
“Never seen an Irish man and an espresso machine before?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me and then slowly nods. “Only at the Starbucks next to the hotel. Just wanted to make sure you were who I thought you were under the unforgiving light of day.”
My brows raise again. “And what’s the verdict?”
“I think you’re trustworthy,” she says and leaves it at that.
“Angie,” Valerie says and elbows her. “Be nice to him, he’s making you coffee.”
“I am nice. But if you’re going to run off with a stranger and pretend to be his fiancé for a few days, I’d like to make sure he’s not an axe-murderer. I wouldn’t be a very good sister if I didn’t do my due diligence.”
“What?” I ask. “Could you repeat that?”
“I want to make sure you’re not an axe murderer.”
I give her a pointed look. “No. The pretending to be my fiancé thing.” I glance at Valerie and now I recognize that hopefully shy and almost giddy expression in her eyes. “You had another think about it?”
She nods. “Yeah. I told them about your father, I hope you don’t mind.” Her expression falters into something like shame and it’s absolutely adorable because of course I don’t mind if it means she’s here. “They told me it was a good idea.”
“Well, we didn’t say it was a good idea,” Sandra says. “More like an interesting idea.” She comes over to the table and plunks down a rugby calendar from a few years ago, one where I appeared naked on the cover. I try and keep that thing buried under stacks of books so I’m amazed she was able to unearth it in such a short amount of time. Maybe she has x-ray vision for cocks.
She points at it. “Care to explain why you’re naked on this French calendar?”
I reach over and try to swipe the calendar from her. “All rugby teams do it every year.”
“And yet they picked you,” she says, holding it up in the air and trying to compare the two of us.
“It’s because I have an incredible arse,” I tell her. “Your sister can attest to that.”
I just wanted to see Val’s face go red and it does, all the way to her roots.
Sandra snickers in response. “Fair enough. So, can I keep this or is this your only copy?”
“It’s all yours.”
Lord knows my nana has a stockpile of them that she insists on giving to her church congregation.
“Thank you,” she says, sliding it into her purse with an eager smile.
“Anyway,” Val says, clearing her throat while giving Sandra a dirty look. “I just wanted you to know that if the offer still stands … I’d love to take you up on it.”
We stare at each other for a moment and I’m hit with the knowing that something is going to change. I’m not sure what but her sudden commitment to this crazy, ill-conceived idea of mine means that her need to say yes to new adventures is bigger than the both of us. I’m in her orbit now as much as she’s in mine.
“All right. Well, we leave tomorrow morning. We better get there before lunch or my nan is going to bring out her spoon.”