Say Hello, Kiss Goodbye - Jacquelyn Middleton Page 0,27

smile. “Probably for the best. I reckon those teeny tiny jogging shorts were a full-on dick slip waiting to happen.”

Mid-sip, the corners of her mouth tweaked into a quick grin, then she looked away again, her eyes roaming about the pub.

Tarquin’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. You’re single. I’m single. What gives? You were into me, but now you’re not? A text woke up his phone. Now what? Biting his lip, he blinked and reached across the table, tilting the screen. An image of a young redheaded girl, long curls blowing in the breeze, grinned back.

Leia lowered her glass. “Is everything okay?”

I don’t know, Leia. Is it? Tarquin cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. It’s just Rupert, sending a pic of Ava.” A sweet smile replaced his frown. “She had a good ol’ natter with me yesterday. She’s going to be a big sister soon. Rupert and his wife are expecting their second child this summer, so Ava made me promise she’ll still be my favorite.” He chuckled, setting his phone down.

“Did she like the unicorn?” Leia’s grin returned. For Tarquin, it was like the sun emerging from behind a dark cloud.

“Oh, she doesn’t have it yet. Soon. They live on Orkney, the archipelago off the north coast of Scotland.”

Leia’s face lit up. “Really? Wow!”

Seriously? “You know it?”

“Sort of. I know a bit about Orkney’s archaeological treasures. I completed a minor in museum studies along with my art history degree.”

“And what’d you think?”

“It looks like a beautiful place! And I had no idea it was so rich in Neolithic sites. But we kinda skimmed the surface. I wish we’d spent more time on it.”

Tarquin nodded. “There’s even Norse graffiti in the chambered cairn at Maeshowe.”

“Oh, I read about that! And the 5,000-year-old village at Skara Brae. But what really caught my eye was the Ring of Brodgar—I’m a sucker for ancient standing stones.” Leia chuckled. “Who doesn’t dream of their own Outlander moment?”

I’m gobsmacked that she knows Orkney—sort of. Tarquin laughed. “My dad’s side were born there.”

“Oh, nice! Were you?”

“No. My brothers and I are all London-born. We’re the Balfour outliers, really. Everyone else is full-on Orcadian. But we’d still go up during holidays, see family. There’s brilliant wreck diving there, too, so I take advantage whenever I can. Good rock climbing and surfing as well.”

“Wreck diving? Like real shipwrecks?”

“Yeah, there’s a scuttled German fleet from World War I. Blockships, too, near the Churchill Barriers. It’s cool.”

“Sounds like an amazing place. No wonder you love it so much.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, brushing imaginary crumbs off his lap. “So, what’s your idea of fun? What are you into?”

“Lots of things. I love to read, skate…take kickboxing classes—”

“Kickboxing? That’s kickass!” And smokin’ hot.

“Yeah…if I were good at it! But I’m not. I pack a mean punch, but my kicks could be better. My balance sucks sometimes.” Leia snickered. “I also like art galleries, fashion documentaries and magazines—I know, that’s hardly surprising!”

“Fave designer?”

“J’adore Dior!” She lit up with a swoony smile. “His vintage stuff is so feminine and beautiful. Works of art. I also love Victoria Beckham’s ready-to-wear, and Stella McCartney, too—not just for her clothes, but her respect for animals and nature as well. What else?” She swirled the ice cubes in her glass. “Oh, I volunteer for the Heart Association, and I swim. Not competitively, just for fun. It’s almost therapeutic, meditative. Sewing started out like that, too. I kinda lose track of time when I’m doing it.”

This is more like it. Let’s keep talking, keep sharing. His shoulders relaxed. “I love that. There’s nothing more freeing than surrendering to your passions. Did you always want to design?”

“No, I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher…or a tree hugger. I heard that phrase when I was a kid and actually thought that was a real job.”

Tarquin laughed. “Classic! So, how did you get into making clothes? Did your mom teach you?”

“Yeah. Mom sewed a lot of our clothes growing up.”

“Was she a designer, too?”

Leia shook her head. “She was a librarian, but she sewed in her spare time. One summer I made the mistake of saying I was bored, and she roped me in.”

“And look at you now! She must be super proud of you.”

“I guess…somewhere, somehow.” Leia’s voice became softer, less animated. “She died nine years ago—when I was eighteen. A heart attack.” Shoulders bowed, she took a long sip again, her eyes fixating on their bill standing to attention between the salt and pepper shakers.

Jesus, that’s awful. A tightness gripped Tarquin’s