At First Sight, Hannah Sunderland [thriller books to read txt] 📗

‘I believe I did, Nell, yes. Whatever problems you’re facing in life, I guarantee that Celine has a piece of advice for it and on the rare occasion that Celine can’t help, there’s always Michael Bolton.’

I sighed and slumped back into the chair. ‘Is that how you handle your calls, just feed them lyrics by ballad-singing icons?’ I whined.

‘It hasn’t failed me yet.’ Ned looked at me with raised brows and waited for me to give him my decision.

I thought about my options for a moment before sitting up. ‘Can I borrow the car?’

I stood, a few paces away from the café door, still undecided as to whether I would be walking through it or not. I hadn’t checked to see if he was inside and the large blackboard by the door showed that they’d be closing in half an hour. The bitterness from Charlie’s strange sort of rejection made me want to flee the scene before he had any chance of seeing me, but those bastarding little butterflies, those deceitful little skips in my heartbeat made me take a few steps forward, before my mother’s voice came back into my head and I stopped walking.

‘Never let anyone make you work for something that makes you feel like less than you are.’ She’d said that one night, her voice travelling the seven hundred or so miles from Denmark to my tear-stained phone after I’d had a particularly mentally destroying evening with Joel a few years ago.

Something about Charlie made me nervous. Why had he decided to send those flowers and rekindle something that could quite easily have fallen into obscurity? I took a tentative step closer and peered through the fogged glass. Sure enough, my eyes found the hunched shoulders of Charlie Stone, sat in the same place he’d been sitting when I’d thrown my sandwich at him and set this whole thing in motion.

I wondered if Ned would have been so eager for me to go out and take a risk on Charlie, if he knew the whole story about me meeting him after he’d called in? Probably not, but that wasn’t worth worrying about now. This could be the chance that I lived to regret in a few days, or maybe it could be the one that paid off.

Celine Dion crept into my brain again and I hated that Ned was right; she did give good advice.

I pushed the door, the palm of my hand chilling in seconds against the condensation-obscured glass.

I nodded a nervous hello to the supervisor as I stepped through the door. He held up a tattoo-adorned arm and waved.

‘You’re welcome to a drink, but we’re closing soon,’ he called out over the sound of the newbie employee – who had miraculously lived to work another day – clanking metal jugs together.

‘It’s okay. I’m just coming to meet someone.’ I sent him a kind smile and turned my attention back to Charlie and found that he’d twisted in his chair, his eyes staring my way, his eyebrows raised and his lips curled in happy surprise. I cleared my throat and walked over to the table, keeping my eyes downcast until the last second. I looked up and made a deal with myself that I would not be won over by blue eyes and Irish charm. I was a grown-ass woman and my protective walls would not be brought down that easily.

‘You came,’ he said with quiet shock.

‘To thank you for the flowers, that’s all,’ I shot back, although that wasn’t completely true.

‘I’m glad yer liked them.’ His eyes shifted awkwardly and he pointed towards the chair beside him. ‘D’yer wanna sit?’

‘No,’ I said matter-of-factly.

‘Okay,’ he said, disappointed.

I stood for a few seconds longer, the tension thickening, before shrugging my eyebrows and trying to keep my impartial expression intact as I sat. I slung my keys onto the table where they landed with a jingling clatter.

He leaned forward, crossing his arms loosely and leaning them on the edge of the table. He rearranged them several more times until he gave up and lowered his fidgeting hands to his lap.

‘I’m … erm, I’m sorry, about storming off the other night.’

He looked to me for a reply, but I gave none.

‘The beer just got into my brain and made it all screwy. It was nothin’ you did. I’m sorry I was rude. I didn’t wanna upset yer.’

‘Are you married?’ I blurted.

He looked taken aback by my question, his eyes glazing for a moment before he answered. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘You sure about that?’

‘I think I’d be aware of it if I was.’

‘And you’re not lying to me? You have no pre-existing romantic connection that would mean that we couldn’t be … friends?’

‘None at all. In fact, you’re the first woman I’ve talked to in … well, I don’t truly remember the last time.’

I watched him warily and when I didn’t reply, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘I blew it, didn’t I?’ He looked at me again and it was like fricking kryptonite to my stone-cold resolve. I could feel the mortar between the bricks of my wall beginning to crumble and fall.

‘Maybe,’ I allowed, making him stew a little longer. ‘But they do say it’s all in the recovery.’

‘I was a complete eejit – there’s no denyin’ that. Any chance of starting over?’ When I didn’t answer straight away, he lowered his head like a guilty puppy and looked up at me through his lashes. ‘I did so very like havin’ a friend.’

I tried to force the corners of my mouth to stay down, but a small, treacherous smile found its way onto my lips. God damn it! That accent was to me what soft pipe music was to snakes in baskets.

I rolled my eyes and that was it: the bricks came tumbling down and crashed into nothingness. ‘You’re a pain in the arse, do you know that?’

‘Of course. It’s the only thing I’ve been sure of my whole life. My mother told me so