Wicked Truths (Hunt Legacy Duology Book 2), Page 4

I felt okay until a moment ago, when my stranger of a mother flounced in. Now I feel a little underdressed. ‘Sorry, you did say we are going to the Saracen’s Head, didn’t you?’ I glance down at my simple black dress, a surprising find on our shopping trip.

  ‘Yes.’ She takes her wine glass and sips, all ladylike. ‘Paul bought me this dress.’ She brushes down the front, eyeing me closely for my reaction. ‘A man’s never bought me a dress before.’

  I half melt, half wince. She looks so pleased. She should be lavished like she deserves to be lavished, but I can’t help feeling like I’m betraying my father’s memory by being happy for her. ‘You look beautiful, Mum.’

  Her cheeks flush and her red lips stretch into a wide smile. ‘Thank you, darling.’ She scrunches her dark-blond hair, boofing it up. ‘Ready?’

  Every head turns as we enter the Saracen’s Head. Mum marches to the bar like she owns the place, setting down her purse and smiling brightly as Paul drops everything to tend to her.

  ‘A glass of your best house white, landlord,’ she says confidently, resting her bum on a bar stool. I join her, unable to stop myself from cringing as Mum and her new boyfriend flirt outrageously.

  ‘Anything the lady wants.’ Paul grins, a gleam in his eye. ‘You look stunning, Mary.’ Mum chuckles as Paul pulls down a wine glass. ‘And for you, Eleanor?’

  ‘Same,’ I squeak, looking around the bar to avoid seeing them giving each other lusty eyes. The old English pub is bursting at the rafters, and surprisingly up-to-date music is blasting from the jukebox. Right now, ‘Giant’ by Calvin Harris and Rag’n’Bone Man is gracing the speakers, and there’s even a few people jigging in the clear space across the pub that serves as a dance floor.

  A glass of wine slides across the bar, and I look up to find Paul smiling at me. ‘Thank you,’ I murmur.

  ‘I’ll be back.’ Mum jumps down from the stool and heads off, waving and smiling at a collection of women across the way. It’s a tactical move to leave me alone with Paul. Damn her.

  He’s lingering behind the bar, waiting for me to say something. I take a sip of my drink, wondering what on earth I could say. And that guilt is rising, thoughts of my dad poking at my mind.

  ‘I understand it must be hard for you,’ Paul begins when it’s obvious I’m not going to initiate conversation. He pours more wine into my glass when I place it down, like he’s cottoned on to the fact that feeding me wine might loosen me up. ‘With your dad and all.’

  My glass is back at my lips again, anything to keep my mouth busy with a lack of words coming to me. I really have no idea what to say.

  ‘He was highly thought of around town.’

  I pause, holding some wine in my mouth as I look at Paul. Highly thought of? I swallow and clear my throat. ‘You mean highly thought of as a bit eccentric?’ I appreciate Paul is trying to be diplomatic, but it’s no big secret that most people around these parts thought my dad was a bit cray-cray.

  Paul withdraws, a little embarrassed. ‘I just want you to know that I have the utmost respect for him.’

  ‘He was a good man,’ I reply quietly, glancing over at my mum, who’s developed a bit of a sway as she chats. If she starts dancing, I think I might pass out. ‘But he never really gave Mum the attention she deserved,’ I add thoughtfully.

  ‘She has my full attention,’ Paul replies, and I look to find him smiling as he backs away and serves someone else across the bar. But his interest is constantly straying to my mum’s arse. I want to dive across the bar and slap my palm over his wandering eyes. I definitely inherited my mother’s arse. Becker’s fondness for mine is suddenly all I can think of, and I shift on my stool, waiting for the familiar discomfort from a few good spanks to kick in. It doesn’t, and I admit to myself that I miss it. I miss him. For the first time today, I lose my battle to keep my thoughts in check. I may have closure on my dad’s store and even my ex, but I don’t think I will ever really have closure on Becker Hunt. He’s got too tight of a hold on my dumb heart.

  An hour later, my mother is dancing, and I’m still propped on my stool coming to terms with it. I’ve declined her offers to join her on the dance floor and have spent the best part of my evening smiling sweetly and chatting with many of the locals. Feigning contentment and convincing them how amazing my new life is in London is exhausting me, and I’m just about done with it when I’m certain that I must have spoken to every single person in the Saracen’s Head.

  Sliding from my stool, I slip past Mum on the dance floor, laughing when she grabs my hands and twirls me. ‘I’m just going to the toilet,’ I shout over Prince as he croons ‘Kiss’.

  ‘Spoilsport.’ She laughs, releasing me and shimmying on over to Paul, who promptly hands her another glass of wine.

  I make my way to the ladies, and once I’ve used the loo, I lean into the mirror and brush at my pale cheeks. My brown eyes look a little heavy, and I can’t work out if it’s tipsiness or tiredness that’s the cause. ‘She’s happy,’ I say to my reflection, batting off the silly twang of disappointment the admission stirs. All of the time I spent worrying and making sure I called to check up on her seems like a bit of a waste. It’s both gratifying and a little wounding. Not to mention guilt-inducing. I never once considered the fact that she might move on. I never pictured her with anyone but Dad. What would he make of this? Of Mum and Paul?

  I shake my head and those thoughts away as I collect my purse, square my shoulders, give my hair a quick ruffle, and then pivot, taking the handle of the door and pulling it open.

  ‘David,’ I screech, jumping back. ‘Jesus, you startled me.’

  He shrugs sheepishly. ‘Sorry.’ And then he seems to turn a bit awkward, shifting uncomfortably. ‘Elle, can we talk?’

  Something about the way he’s looking at me, like in apology, makes me wary. ‘What about?’

  ‘It was nice seeing you today.’

  Oh no. ‘David—’

  ‘We had fun, right? Like old times?’

  Oh Jesus. ‘Accepting your apology wasn’t an invitation,’ I say, standing firm. ‘I can forgive you, and, trust me, that’s for my own selfish reasons, not to make you feel better about what you did to me. But I won’t forget, David.’ I skirt past him, breathing in deeply.

  ‘Please, Elle.’

  ‘Please don’t, David.’ I fight my way through the crowds, not prepared to get into this. I’m done.

  ‘You were so distant,’ he calls, following behind. ‘It was like you weren’t really here any more.’

  What? No. He doesn’t get to push this back on me. I swing around, livid. The confrontation that was avoided earlier in Dad’s store? It’s happening now. I don’t know why I’m feeling the need to suddenly rip a strip off him. Maybe because I’m tired. Or maybe because my earlier resolve has wavered this evening with Becker playing on my mind. ‘That’s your excuse?’ I ignore the fact that he’s right. I was in Helston in body, but my mind was elsewhere, dreaming of . . . my dreams.

  He pulls to a stop, and I realise all of the attention is on us. The pub is quiet. No music either, like the jukebox has shut up and wants in on this, too. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmurs.

  ‘You already apologised and I already accepted. Let’s leave it there.’ I turn to leave but find myself swinging back around, suddenly full of words I want to unleash. I’m blaming the wine, too. ‘Actually, let’s not leave it there. You did me a favour, David. When you shagged my best friend, you did me a favour.’

  Paul appears with a fresh glass of wine for me, and I take it gratefully with a smile.

  And throw it in David’s face.

  The collective gasps in the pub seem to stretch for ever as he stands with his mouth hanging open, stunned, blinking, wondering what the hell has gotten into me. Because little meek Eleanor Cole would never do such a thing. Yeah, well, Eleanor Cole has changed. Eleanor Cole won’t stand any shit any more. El
eanor Cole has fire in her belly.

  ‘You’ve changed, Elle.’ David’s persona shifts, and he frowns, looking at me like he doesn’t recognise me any more. Good. I don’t want him to recognise me. Because I’m not the same girl he dated for years. ‘What, you think you’re better than us now?’ he asks. ‘Think you’re all big and superior with your London job and your city lifestyle?’

  And there he is. My ex-boyfriend, the insensitive arsehole. He couldn’t say anything worse to me. And to think I was at peace forgiving him? I’m an idiot in more than one way.

  ‘I think it’s time to leave, David,’ Paul says diplomatically, nodding to the door as he refills my glass, giving me a look to suggest this one should not be wasted.

  ‘Oh,’ David laughs. ‘Should have known you’d side with Elle since you’re fucking her mother.’

  The gasps that flood the bar this time are horrified and justified. Mum’s new boyfriend is a burly bloke and an ex-pro boxer – no one messes with him. The years he has on David won’t faze him. ‘Be careful, son,’ he warns, leaning across the bar. ‘Don’t think I won’t throw you out of here.’

  David ignores the threat, sighing and rubbing at his head. ‘Elle, I’m sorry. Can you just give me a minute to explain?’

  ‘What’s to explain? You did what you did and I’m over it.’

  He rests his hand on my arm, and I shrug him off, slamming my lips shut for fear of turning the air blue with my bad language. ‘You’ve not moved on,’ he says. ‘Neither have I. You can’t ignore how great we were together today.’

  I ignore him. It takes every scrap of willpower I have. I sit myself back at the bar and drink my fresh glass of wine, glugging it down irresponsibly. The quiet around me should be making me squirm on my stool, but my fury is halting any discomfort that I could feel under the interested attention of the entire pub. I bet they’re all loving this. The drama, the gossip. The town jungle drums will be going wild.

  ‘David,’ Mum says, her heels clicking as she makes her way over. God love that woman. He’s just insulted her, and she’s not showing the slightest bit of offence. ‘Let’s step out—’

  She’s interrupted when the door to the pub slams shut, sending a cool breeze gusting through the bar. There are a few more collective gasps. And then whispers, too.

  Like something magnificent has just walked in.

  Then I hear a familiar voice saying a polite, ‘Evening.’

  And I know immediately that it has.

  Chapter 5

  Every single one of my nerve endings begin to tingle, my grip tightening on my glass as I stare at the top shelf of the bar. It’s silent – unnervingly silent. I keep myself facing forward, my heart now working up to a steady staccato, and peek to each side of me, seeing everyone in my field of vision looking towards the door – eyes wide, mouths hung open, hushed.

  ‘I believe you were asked to leave.’ Becker’s tone is dripping with threat that not even I would challenge. My round eyes shoot to my wine glass, which might shatter at any moment under the pressure of my grip. I need to loosen my hold, but this glass feels like it’s the only thing stopping me from tumbling from the stool in a flat-out panic.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ David is on the defensive immediately, and I’m not at all surprised. I know I’m going to turn around and find Becker adorned in a fine suit, his scruff perfect, his specs resting on his perfect nose. David will feel threatened. No man appreciates Becker’s unholy godliness.

  I sip more wine, despite knowing I need to stop drinking. Tackling David is one thing; Becker is a whole new level of willpower. Getting blind drunk won’t help me.

  The silence is tangible, everyone’s interest obvious by the quiet and thick atmosphere.

  ‘Who I am is not your concern.’ I hear the even beats of Becker’s brogues coming closer and see Paul in front of me watching as something approaches behind. Or someone. Someone tall. I see him out the corner of my eye perch on a stool next to me, his knee close to mine. ‘Haig on the rocks, please.’

  David is bristling behind me but, right now, I’m in no position to address the situation. I want to cut off both of their balls. I just can’t decide which one I want to hurt more. ‘What are you doing here?’ I hiss out the side of my mouth, refusing to look at him.

  ‘I’ve given you plenty of time to come to your senses,’ he states matter-of-factly, confidence oozing from his entire being. ‘Time’s up.’

  ‘You cannot be serious?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life. Not masters of art. Not priceless treasures. Not even Gloria, and you know how I feel about my precious, priceless Aston.’ There would be nothing to stop my eyes from finding his after those words. His face is straight, serious, as he accepts his drink from a quiet Paul and raises his glass in thanks before taking a healthy swig, his hazel eyes on me. ‘And since old boyfriends seem to be on the prowl, things just got a whole lot more serious.’ His face remains impassive, though I sense the threat there. ‘I’m not giving up, Eleanor.’ He turns to David, who’s standing quietly behind us, probably gawping in disbelief. ‘You still here?’

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ My ex splutters again, somewhere between anger and genuine curiosity, trying to straighten out his soaked shirt.

  ‘What are you, deaf?’ Becker asks, and I cringe. The pub is still super quiet, all attention pointing at us. ‘I already told you, it’s not your concern. Run along now.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere.’ David laughs. ‘This is my local.’

  ‘Time to leave, David,’ Paul pipes up, walking around the bar. I follow his path and watch him open the door.

  ‘This isn’t done, Elle.’ David says, and I look at Becker briefly, as if checking he’s listening. ‘You know it, and I know it.’

  I remain quiet, but Becker shifts on his stool, drawing breath. ‘Trust me,’ he says calmly, giving my ex a death stare. ‘It’s done.’ He’s his usual beautiful self, dressed to impress in a dark grey charcoal suit. I wish I’d never looked at him.

  I turn back to face the bar and close my eyes to gather some strength, guzzling some more wine, hoping to douse the building unease simmering in my gut. ‘Please go,’ I murmur, hearing hushed whispers beginning to break out, no doubt everyone surmising who Becker is.

  ‘I’m going nowhere until you agree to come with me.’ I can feel his eyes drilling into my profile.

  ‘You’ll be waiting a long time.’

  ‘I’m in no rush,’ he whispers as his hand drifts over to my leg and rests on my kneecap. I whip it away, furious with my body for heating up with only a brief skimming touch. ‘I’ve spent years searching for a lump of marble that probably can’t be found, Eleanor. Do you think waiting for you is going to faze me?’ He finds my knee again and squeezes. ‘Especially since you want to be found, princess.’

  ‘I do not want to be found. I want to forget I ever met you.’

  ‘Liar.’

  Paul presents himself behind the bar, eyeing my companion warily. ‘You okay there, Eleanor?’

  ‘Fine.’ All that held air in my lungs billows out. ‘He’s just leaving.’ I want to crawl into my wine glass and drown myself, especially when my mum hurries over. Oh my days, how am I going to explain him?

  ‘Eleanor, aren’t you going to introduce me?’ she asks, putting her hand out to Becker.

  I watch as he takes it gently and shakes. I’ve lost the ability to speak, so I resort to watching helplessly as Becker bamboozles my mother with one of those disarming smiles and a flash of his sparkling angel eyes. ‘I’m Becker Hunt,’ he declares softly. ‘Eleanor’s boss.’

  Mum breathes in her surprise and darts her eyes to me. The arsehole. I want to correct him, but my ability to talk doesn’t look like it’s returning anytime soon. I know what she’s thinking, and she would be right. I’ve managed to evade her questions but
, thanks to Becker, I’m not going to be sidestepping them any longer.

  ‘Well, what a surprise,’ she gushes, nudging me in the shoulder. ‘Eleanor has told me so much about her new job, but she never mentioned you.’

  Becker hums, and I contemplate ordering a bucket of wine so I literally can drown myself. ‘She likes to keep things business,’ he muses quietly, pulling my startled eyes to him.

  ‘And what about you?’ Mum asks cheekily. I’m suddenly swinging my incredulous look her way. She totally ignores my discomfort. What is she doing?

  ‘Mum,’ I prompt, but she flat out ignores me, too intrigued by the handsome man in our local. ‘Mum, it’s time to go.’

  ‘Well?’ Mum asks again, and I look at Becker, silently passing a message across, begging him to not feed her interest.

  He looks at me and smiles, thinking hard about what he might say. It worries me. Then he sighs and returns his attention to my mum, who is still waiting for an answer. ‘I don’t want to keep it business, Mrs Cole. I want to be more than her boss.’

  I should drop-kick his cheeky arse back to London. What the hell is he playing at?

  Mum looks set to faint, her face going red with the pressure to keep her squeal of delight contained. ‘Get me another wine, Paul,’ she calls, patting the back of Becker’s hand. And I just stare at him, at a loss. ‘Eleanor, darling.’ Mum winks, her lips twisting into an excited smile. ‘You little bugger, you,’ she whispers, flouncing off to get her wine, lapping up the attention as she goes.

  My body goes limp on my stool, and Becker leans into me, pushing his lips to my ear. I only just restrain my whimper as he breathes shallowly. ‘I’m going to wait outside for you, princess. If you’re not there in ten minutes, don’t think I won’t come back and collect you myself.’ He kisses my cheek gently and squeezes my knee. ‘Time’s up.’ He stands and walks away, fastening the button of his suit jacket as he goes. And what do I do? I join the rest of the women in the pub, including my mother, and admire his perfectly formed backside as he saunters away.