Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake (Winner Bakes All #1) - Alexis Hall Page 0,116
sleeve.
“Mate,” Harry sighed. “You do not wanna do this.”
“Oh, who the fuck do you think you are? You thick Cockney c—”
Anvita, Rosaline reflected, had been right about Harry’s arms. And one of them now shot upwards with remarkable speed, driving his knuckles squarely into Alain’s jaw. In response, Alain took two paces backwards and fell over.
“You all right, mate?” Harry asked.
“You fucking hit me, you fucking thug.”
He shrugged. “I did say to get your hands off me.”
“Have I got a concussion?” Alain was still on one knee and clutching his face, like he was doing the world’s shittiest proposal. “Did you give me a fucking concussion?”
“Nah. You didn’t bash your head or nothing. Just got a bit of whiplash. Put some peas on it, you’ll be fine. See you at the weekend.”
Alain said some more things after that, but Rosaline wasn’t listening, and she didn’t think Harry was either.
He took her bag and let her in the passenger side of his van. “Mind the toolbox, mate.”
She got herself settled and Harry climbed into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind him with a satisfying air of finality.
They drove along in silence for a while, twisting country roads giving way to the flat grey haze of the M40.
“I,” said Rosaline, curling over her knees, “am a fucking idiot.”
Harry’s eyes flicked briefly to her. “Nah you’re not. You just went out with a dickhead for a bit. Lots of people do.”
“Except this whole time he clearly saw me as some kind of slutty bisexual sex toy, and I don’t know, is that who I am? Is that who I appear to be on television? Is that going to be me forever now?”
“Well . . . no. Like, any of ’em.”
“I mean, you spoke to me that first day. So you must have been thinking something.”
“I thought you was pretty and that you might want a cup of tea. That’s not the same as thinking you’re a slutty bisexual sex-whatsit. And even if I did, I know a lot of slutty birds and they’re all-right people. Terry’s sister, Shirl, she’s had more cock than Colonel Sanders, but she ain’t hurting no one, and when Sam’s fella walked out she was right there for her.”
“Sorry”—Rosaline hugged her knees harder—“are you saying you don’t think I’m a slut or it’s okay if I am?”
“Both. With the baking and the kid, I don’t reckon you’ve got much time for getting yourself some, but if I’m wrong, so what? And as for TV, well it’s just TV, init? I’ve never watched a series of Bake Expectations and come away thinking She’s well up for it. It’s not the show’s . . . what’s the word. Brand.”
She sighed. “I know. It’s always in the back of your mind, though, isn’t it? The whole stereotype. Except it turned out that was exactly what Alain wanted. So that’s fun.”
“Yeah, but that’s on him, not on you.”
“Then why am I the one in your van, feeling shit about myself, while he’s probably banging his drunk ex-girlfriend and complaining about what a complete bitch I am?”
“I hit him quite hard. So it’s more likely he’s sitting on the sofa with peas on his face complaining about what complete bitches we both are.”
For some reason that cheered Rosaline up slightly. “I don’t condone violence, but he did have it coming.”
“It’s what you do. Bloke gets in your face. Won’t get out of it. You have to get him out of it.” A pause as Harry manoeuvred them round a long Eddie Stobart lorry. “So, you want to tell me what happened? You ain’t gotta.”
Rosaline groaned. “It’s fucking embarrassing and a fucking cliché.”
“Wanted you to have a threesome, did he?”
The worst thing about it was how fucking obvious it was. Obvious and sordid. “Yes, he did. With his bicurious ex-girlfriend. Who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Oh, mate. I’m sorry. Like, I’ve got to admit I’ve never worked out why people are so into it.”
“Porn?” suggested Rosaline. “Bragging rights?”
“No, I get that. And I can see how, at first, you’d think it’d be great. ’Cos it’s like having a second helping of pudding. But actually it’s really confusing. I mean, you’ve only got two hands and one dick. Or else they get well into it and you’re like, You know what, shall I just leave you to it?”
Rosaline slanted a slightly curious look at him. “Are you speaking from experience?”
“I don’t spend every Saturday eating pies with Terry.”