Читать книгу The Little Wedding Shop by the Sea - Jane Linfoot - Страница 12

‘I can’t believe I’ve been working up here all this time and you haven’t visited before.’ Immie is hurrying across the cobbled courtyard of Daisy Hill Farm to meet me, as I clamber out of my car next morning. She’s arranged an interview for me with the owner of the farm, Rafe.

‘Maybe it’s because I avoid farms like the plague.’ I point out. ‘Fields and cows and windy days are why I live in town, remember?’

Immie and Cate weren’t going to hang about. They abandoned all thoughts of bridesmaids’ dresses yesterday, and got straight onto beautifying my CV. But whoever heard of an interview on a Sunday?

Immie flashes me a grin. ‘So don’t mind Rafe, he’s like a bear with a sore head, but it’s nothing personal.’

‘What?’ If she’d leaked this information any earlier I might have had an excuse to resist. She’s hurrying me past a faded Georgian farmhouse, with rows of dusty sash windows, towards a range of stone out-buildings.

‘He doesn’t do charming, but don’t let it bother you.’ Immie, telling it straight again. ‘No need for nerves, you’re going to walk this.’

I give a shrug. Even though I’m going to give this my best shot, I’m not worried. I know I don’t stand a cat in hell’s chance here. However much they tarted up my CV before they emailed it over to this grumpy Rafe person, it’s obvious that icing is the only thing I’m qualified to smooth over.

‘The office is in here …’ Immie pauses outside a grey painted plank door. ‘Play your cards right, and he’ll probably offer you a cottage to live in too.’ She raises an eyebrow, clicks the latch, and pushes me into a warm, white-washed room. ‘Rafe, this is Poppy, I’ll leave you two to it, have fun.’

She sweeps out, and as the door slams shut behind her I take in a desk that looks like a recycling skip got tipped out on it, a guy in a grey jumper standing by the filing cabinet, and a black dog lying in the corner, giving gentle wags of its tail. My heart beat is louder than the wagging thumps as I wait by the desk. As the guy whips around and holds out his hand I choke.

Oh.

‘Poppy, great to …’ His voice grinds to a halt. From the way the guy from yesterday’s ditch is suddenly lost for words, I’m guessing we’re both equally gob smacked to see each other again. When he said ‘see you around’, I’m sure he didn’t intend it to be this soon.

I dig deep. Actually I’ve nothing to lose here. There’s no need to give a damn at all. I simply have to spend a few minutes not getting this job, and I can be off.

‘Hi again.’ I jump forward, and grasp his hand. ‘No mud wrestling today for me.’ I get that in early and throw out a tentative smile, hoping my smartest black jeans and the white shirt Immie lent me will cut it. With Cate’s borrowed wellies to show I mean business, now I’ve got this far I might as well go for broke. ‘And I left the labradoodles at home too.’ Hopefully he won’t recognise the Barbour jacket is Immie’s too.

I turn my full beam smile onto him, and try to put the brakes on any babbling. ‘Brill, shall we get on with it then?’

He takes back his hand, rubs his chin and gives a deep sigh. ‘Remind me again why you’re here?’

The dark circles under his eyes suggest he’s as tired as he sounds. Probably knackered from having sex all night. Not that it’s anything to do with me. I shove that thought away, and try to pick up my bounce where I left off.

‘The wedding coordinator job … Immie sorted the interview …’ Given he isn’t reacting at all, I recklessly go on. ‘Immie emailed you my fabulous CV yesterday?’ My ‘tada’ arm flourish wilts as he fails to react, although it does get a raised eyebrow from the dog.

‘Weddings … right.’ He shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I’ve been in the barn all night with a difficult calving.’

Fine. So now we know there wasn’t any hot sex.

‘And how did that go?’ I toss in another smile.

Land Rover Guy exhales again loudly, and drops into his swivel chair. ‘We lost the calf.’

I carry on smiling, determined to see the positive side here. ‘Great. Or at least it will be when you find it again.’

‘Lost, as in died. The calf died.’ He says, as if on remote control, and leans back and taps on his keyboard. Finally getting round to reading my application.

I kick myself for that blunder. ‘Sorry.’

He clears his throat, but doesn’t look up from the screen. ‘It happens. There’s a big vet’s bill, but at least we saved the mother.’ If he’s reading my CV, I take it from the way the corners of his mouth are turning down that he’s spectacularly unimpressed.

He looks up momentarily. ‘Okay, you’re hired. Welcome to the team.’

‘What?’ If my voice has gone all high, it’s because I’m astonished. Even the dog has pricked up his ears in shock.

‘Start tomorrow …’ He’s already focusing back on the screen in front of him. ‘How does nine sound?’

Talk about bish bash bosh. ‘This isn’t how you interview people.’ I have to tell him, I can’t let this go. ‘Excuse me for asking, but what part of my background and experience makes you think I’m qualified to be a wedding coordinator … on a farm of all places?’

‘Your background?’ He stares vaguely, then looks at his computer screen and his lips twitch into some twisted kind of sardonic grimace. ‘I’m not reading about you here. I don’t even know where your CV is.’

Worse and worse. ‘So how do you know I can do the job?’

He finally bothers to turn his attention to me. ‘To be honest, I don’t.’ He rests his chin on his knuckles, and pauses long enough for that blinder to sink in. ‘But Immie thinks you can, and I trust her.’ He sits back, locks his fingers behind his head. ‘And to be brutally honest a second time, you’d have to be a complete imbecile to make a bigger mess of the weddings here than they are in already.’

I take in the way his voice resonates over the word trust. Those hazel flecked eyes. And that scar on his right cheek bone. Then I move on swiftly, and focus instead on a gaze that is as direct as any I’ve ever met. My breath catches.

‘Thanks for coming.’ With one swoop he’s on his feet and grasping my hand again. ‘But I have to rush. I’ll deal with contracts and questions in the morning, although from what you’ve said I doubt if you’ll be in any position to bargain, given your lack of experience.’

If he wasn’t already out of the door, I’d shut my gaping mouth and call him on that. As it stands I’ll have to wait until tomorrow. He’s still shouting as he disappears across the yard.

‘Oh, and don’t look at this as long term, it’s strictly temporary and it definitely won’t develop into anything more permanent.’

And that’s fine by me. The sooner it’s over the better. I just hope Cate appreciates what I’m doing for her here.