Second Chance Lane (Brockenridge #2) - Nicola Marsh Page 0,49

like I said, this is something we’ll need to discuss with your mum.’

She pinned him with a stare that implied she wouldn’t back down and he’d never been more relieved than when the light on the sandwich maker turned green.

‘Our sangers are ready,’ he said, pointing at the maker. ‘There’s something about the smell of melted cheese that makes me want to stuff the whole sandwich in my gob in one go.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ she said, switching off the sandwich maker before placing the toasties onto plates. ‘I hope you’ve got one of these in your tour bus because we’re going to be eating a lot of toasted cheese sandwiches when I hang out with you.’

He laughed because he couldn’t help it, her tenacity a thing of wonder. ‘I like your determination, kid.’

‘It’s one of my best qualities,’ she said, matter of factly, as she handed him a plate.

They lapsed into comfortable silence as they ate but Kody wasn’t looking forward to discussing Isla moving around with him if he returned to his previous lifestyle with Tash, not one bit.

CHAPTER

20

Jane decided to keep the menu simple for her dinner with Mason: bruschetta with oven-roasted tomatoes and fresh basil for entrée, roast lamb for main and one of Betty’s famous custard tarts for dessert. He said he’d bring dessert but she had an ulterior motive: baking wasn’t her forté and she hoped that by serving one of his mum’s creations he might appreciate her more. Her work, that is. He’d been nothing but pleasant since they’d got over their initial hiccup yet her insecurities ran deep and she couldn’t help but feel inferior somehow, just like he’d made her feel in high school.

Mason had a worldliness she had no hope of emulating and a small part of her wondered if he’d taken pity on the hick country chick when he’d asked for her help in decorating the bakery’s expansion. In reality, Betty probably had more to do with him wanting her onboard than any confidence in her skills, but whatever the rationale, she wanted to ensure she did a great job. The fact she harboured a surprising crush on the handsome baker had nothing to do with it.

She picked up a nice lean shoulder of lamb and popped it into her trolley. But as she headed in the direction of the vegetable section at the supermarket, her trolley collided with another, pushed by her mother. Jane’s spine stiffened as it always did when she ran into Gladys, an old habit from countless lectures on the importance of posture in attracting a man.

Gladys looked immaculate as usual, wearing a designer suit in the deepest plum, with an ivory silk blouse underneath and patent pumps that would have cost enough to feed a farmer’s family for a month.

‘Hello, Jane.’ Her mum’s well-modulated tone was so familiar yet held a world of secrets. Jane had only heard Gladys lose her cool once, her screeches as she divulged the truth about their family a far cry from this practised façade. Her mother had never given a damn about her but almost eleven years had passed since she’d heard the proof that Gladys was nothing more than a soulless drone.

‘Hey, Mum. How are you?’

‘Fine.’

Gladys glanced into her trolley, saw the lamb, and wrinkled her nose in disapproval. Jane knew what her mother would say before she opened her filler-injected lips.

‘Meat is fattening. You know that.’

Jane resisted the urge to ram her trolley over her mother’s feet. ‘Everything in moderation.’

The nose crinkles increased. ‘I can’t understand why you refused to convert to veganism when I did.’

‘I was sixteen and liked hanging out with my friends, who all liked burgers.’

‘What’s your excuse now?’ Gladys arched a perfectly etched brow. ‘From what I hear, you don’t have many friends.’

Jane gritted her teeth and composed a more suitable response than eff off.

‘It seems this needs reiterating, even though I’ve told you several times before.’ Jane lowered her voice when a septuagenarian carrying an overflowing basket of fennel and carrots cast a curious glance their way. ‘I gave up caring what you think of my dietary habits, my choice of wardrobe and anything else involving my life a long time ago.’

Hating how the old familiar hurt spread outward through her chest, she disengaged her trolley and backed up a few steps. But she knew Gladys would get a last barb in. She always did.

‘Apparently you’re sniffing around the Woodley boy.’ Gladys’s upper lip curled in a sneer. ‘He’ll tire of you