Читать книгу Wish Upon a Wedding - Kate Hardy, Jessica Gilmore - Страница 19
ОглавлениеOVER THE NEXT couple of weeks, Claire and Sean grew closer. Claire didn’t get to see Sean every evening, but she talked to him every day and found herself really looking forward to the times they did see each other. And even on days when things were frustrating and refused to go right, or she had a client who changed her mind about what she wanted at least twice a day, it wasn’t so bad because Claire knew she would be seeing Sean or talking to him later.
And he indulged her by taking her to one of her favourite places—the Victoria and Albert Museum. She took him to see her favourite pieces of clothing, showing him the fabrics, the shapes and the stitching that had inspired some of her own designs. When they stopped for a cold drink in the café, she looked at him.
‘Sorry. I rather went into nerd mode. You should have told me to shut up.’
He smiled. ‘Actually, I really enjoyed it.’
‘But I was lecturing you, making you look at fiddly bits and pieces that probably bored you stupid.’
‘You were lit up, Claire. Clothing design is your passion. And it was a privilege to see it,’ he said softly. He reached across the table, took her hand and drew it to his lips. ‘Don’t ever lose that passion.’
He’d accepted her for who she was, Claire thought with sudden shock. The first man she’d ever dated who’d seen who she was, accepted it, and encouraged her to do what she loved.
In turn, Sean gave her a personal guided tour of the toffee factory. ‘I’m afraid the white coat and the hair covering are non-negotiable,’ he said.
‘Health and safety. This is a working factory. And the clothes are about function, not form—just as they should be,’ she said.
‘I guess.’ He took her through the factory, explaining what the various stages were and letting her taste the different products.
‘I love the fact you’re still using your great-grandparents’ recipe for the toffee,’ she said. ‘And the photographs.’ She’d noticed the blown-up photographs from years before lining the walls in the reception area. ‘It’s lovely to see that connection over the years.’
‘A bit like you,’ he said, ‘and the way you hand-decorate a dress exactly the same as they would’ve done it two hundred years ago.’
‘I guess.’
They were halfway through when Sean’s sales manager came over.
‘Sean, I’m really sorry to interrupt,’ he said, smiling acknowledgement at Claire. ‘I’m afraid we’ve got a bit of a situation.’
‘Hey—don’t mind me,’ Claire said. ‘The business comes first. I can do a tour at any time.’
‘Thanks,’ Sean said. ‘What’s the problem, Will?’
‘I had the press on the phone earlier, talking about the takeover bid,’ Will said. ‘I explained that it’s not happening and Farrell’s is carrying on exactly as before, but someone’s clearly been spreading doubts among our biggest customers, because I’ve been fielding phone calls ever since. And one of our customers in particular says he wants to talk to the organ grinder, not the monkey.’
‘You’re my sales manager,’ Sean said. ‘Which makes you as much of an organ grinder as I am.’
Will looked awkward. ‘Not in Mel Archer’s eyes.’
‘Ah. Him.’ Sean grimaced. ‘Claire, would you mind if I let Will finish the tour with you?’
‘Sure,’ she said.
‘I’ll talk to Archer and explain the situation to him,’ Sean said. ‘And I’ll make it very clear to him that I trust my senior team to do their jobs well and use their initiative.’
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Sean said. ‘I’ll see you later, Claire.’
She smiled at him. ‘No worries. I’ll wait for you in reception.’
‘Sorry. It’s the monkey rather than the organ grinder for you, too,’ Will said.
She smiled. ‘Sean says you’re an organ grinder. That’s good enough for me.’
Will finished taking her round and answered all her questions. Including ones she knew she probably shouldn’t ask but couldn’t help herself; this was a chance to see another side of Sean.
‘So have you worked for Sean for long?’ she asked Will.
‘Three years,’ Will said. ‘And he’s probably the best manager I’ve ever worked with. He doesn’t micromanage—he trusts you to get on and do your job, though he’s always there if things get sticky.’
‘Which I guess they would be, in a toffee factory,’ Claire said with a smile.
Will laughed. ‘Yeah. Pun not actually intended. What I mean is he knows the business inside out. He’s there if you need support, and if there’s a problem you can’t solve he’ll have an answer—though what he does is ask you questions to make you think a bit more about it and work it out for yourself.’
So her super-efficient businessman liked to teach people and develop his staff, too. And it was something she knew he wouldn’t have told her himself.
From the half of the tour Sean had given her and the insights Will added, Claire realised that maybe Sean really was living his dream; he really did love the factory and his job, and not just because it was his heritage and he felt duty-bound to preserve it for the next generation. Though she rather thought that if he’d had a choice in the matter, he would’ve worked in the research and development side of the business.
‘He’s a good man,’ she said, meaning it.
* * *
When Ashleigh and Luke returned from their honeymoon, they invited Claire over to see the wedding photographs. She arrived bearing champagne and brownies. Sean was there already, and she gave him a cool nod of acknowledgement before cooing over the photographs and choosing the ones she wanted copies of.
A little later, he offered to help her make coffee. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’ he asked softly when they were alone in Ashleigh’s kitchen.
‘No.’ Clare frowned. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Just you seemed a little cool with me tonight.’
‘In front of Ash, yes—she expects me to be just on the verge of civil with you. If I’m nice to you, she’s going to guess something’s going on, and I don’t want her to know about this.’ Claire took a deep breath. ‘She’s already asked me a couple of questions, and I told her we came to a kind of truce in Capri—once you realised it wasn’t my fault her wedding dress disappeared—and you were one step away from grovelling.’
‘You told her I was grovelling?’
Claire grinned. ‘She just laughed and said grovelling isn’t in your vocabulary, and she’d give it a week before we started sniping at each other again.’
He moved closer. ‘I’m definitely not grovelling, but I’m not sniping either.’ He paused. ‘In fact, I’d rather just kiss you.’
‘I’d rather that, too,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m not ready for Ash to know about this yet.’
‘So I’m your dirty little secret?’
‘For now—and I’m yours,’ she said.
At the end of the evening, Sean said, ‘Claire, it’s raining—I’ll give you a lift home to save you getting drenched.’
‘This is quite some truce,’ Ashleigh said, giving them both a piercing look. ‘Though you probably won’t make it back to Claire’s before the ceasefire ends.’
‘I won’t fight if she doesn’t,’ Sean said. ‘Claire?’
‘No fighting, and thank you very much for the offer of the lift.’
Ashleigh narrowed her eyes at both of them, but didn’t say any more.
‘Do you have any idea how close you were to breaking our cover?’ Claire asked crossly on the way home. ‘I’m sure Ash has guessed.’
‘What’s your problem with anyone knowing about you and me?’ Sean asked.
‘Because it’s still early days. And, actually, unless my calendar’s wrong, you’ll be dumping me in the next few days anyway.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘Because, Sean Farrell, you never date anyone for more than three weeks in a row.’
‘I don’t dump my girlfriends exactly three weeks in to a relationship,’ he said. ‘That’s a little old and a little unfair.’
‘But you dump them,’ Claire persisted.
‘No, I break up with them nicely and I make them feel it’s their decision,’ he corrected.
‘When it’s actually yours.’
He shrugged. ‘If it makes them feel better about the situation, what’s the problem?’
‘You’re impossible.’
He laughed. ‘Ashleigh said we wouldn’t make it back to your place before we started fighting. She was right.’
‘I’m not fighting, I’m just making a statement of facts—and don’t you dare kiss me to shut me up,’ she warned.
‘I can’t kiss you when I’m driving,’ Sean pointed out, ‘so that’s a rain check.’
‘You really are the most exasperating...’ Unable to think of a suitable retort, she lapsed into silence.
‘Besides,’ he said softly, ‘you’d be bored to tears with a yes-man or a lapdog.’
‘Lapdog?’ she asked, not following.
‘“When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last.” Alexander Pope,’ he explained helpfully.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I forgot you did English A level.’
‘And dated a couple of English teachers.’
‘Would one of those have been the one who made you see a certain rom-com more than once?’
‘Yes. At least you haven’t done that.’
‘You’re still impossible,’ she grumbled.
‘Yup,’ he said cheerfully.
‘And, excuse me, you just missed the turning to my place.’
‘Because we’re not going to your place. We’re going to mine.’
‘But I have a bride coming in first thing tomorrow morning for a final fitting,’ she protested.
‘I have a washer-dryer, an alarm clock, a spare unused toothbrush, and I’ll run you home after breakfast.’
She sighed. ‘You’ve got an answer for everything.’
‘Most things,’ he corrected, and she groaned.
‘I give up.’
‘Good,’ he said.
He stripped her very slowly once he’d locked his front door behind them, put her clothes in the laundry, then took her to bed. And he was as good as his word, finding her a spare toothbrush, making her coffee in the morning, making sure her clothes were dried, and taking her home.
She kissed him lingeringly in the car. ‘See you later. And thanks for the lift.’
* * *
Ashleigh dropped by at lunchtime.
‘Well, hello, stranger—long time, no see,’ Claire teased. ‘What is it, a little over twelve hours?’
‘We’re having lunch,’ Ashleigh said. ‘Now.’
‘Why does this feel as if you’re about to tell me off?’ Claire asked.
‘Because I am. When did this all happen?’
Claire tried to look innocent. ‘When did all what happen?’
‘You know perfectly well what I mean. You and my brother. And don’t deny it. You’re both acting totally out of character round each other.’
‘He just gave me a lift home last night,’ Claire said, crossing her fingers under the table. It had been a lot more than that.
‘Hmm.’ Ashleigh folded her arms and gave Claire a level stare.
Claire gave in. ‘Ash, it’s early days. And you know Sean; it’s probably not going to last.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because when it all goes wrong I don’t want our friendship to be collateral damage.’
Ashleigh hugged her. ‘Idiot. Nothing would stop me being friends with you.’
‘Sean doesn’t want you to be collateral damage, either,’ Claire pointed out.
Ashleigh rolled her eyes. ‘I won’t be, and don’t you go overprotective on me like my big brother is—remember I’m older than you.’
‘OK,’ Claire said meekly.
‘I thought something was up when he helped you make coffee, and then when he offered you a lift home...I knew it for sure,’ Ashleigh said.
‘It’s still really, really early days,’ Claire warned.
‘But it’s working,’
‘At the moment. We still fight, but it’s different now.’ Claire smiled. ‘Sean’s not quite as regimented as I thought he was.’
Ashleigh laughed. ‘Not with you around, he won’t be.’
‘And he’s stopped calling me the Mistress of Chaos.’
‘Good, because you’re not.’ Ashleigh hugged her again. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d like more as my sister-in-law. I’ve always thought of you as like my sister anyway.’
‘We haven’t been together long,’ Claire warned, ‘so I’m not promising anything.’
‘I think,’ Ashleigh said, ‘that you’ll be good for each other.’
‘Promise me you won’t say anything? Even to Luke?’
‘It’s a bit too late for Luke,’ Ashleigh said, ‘but I won’t say anything to Sean.’
‘Thank you. And you’ll be the first to know if things move forward. Or,’ Claire said, ‘when we break up.’
* * *
In the two weeks before the wedding show Claire was crazily busy and had almost no free time for dates. Sean took over and brought in takeaways to make sure she ate in the evenings; he also made her take breaks before her eyes started hurting, and gave her massages when her shoulders ached.
Even though part of Claire thought he was being just a little bit overprotective, she was grateful for the TLC. ‘I really appreciate this, Sean.’
‘I know, and you’d do the same for me if I had an exhibition,’ he pointed out. ‘By the way, I’m in talks with a couple of manufacturers about joint projects and licensing. Talking to you and brainstorming stuff like that,’ he said, ‘really helped me see the way I want the company to go in the future.’
‘Following your dreams?’
‘Maybe,’ he said with a smile, and kissed her.
* * *
The week before the wedding show, Claire took Sean to meet her family—her father, her grandmother, Aunt Lou and her cousins. Clearly she’d talked to them about him, Sean thought, because they already seemed to know who he was and lots about him. Then he realised that they knew Ashleigh and his background was the same as hers.
Even though they were warm and welcoming and treated him as if he were one of them, chatting and laughing and teasing him, he still felt strange. His grandparents would’ve been older than Claire’s and had died when he was in his teens. This was the first time for years that Sean had been in a family situation where he wasn’t being the protective big brother and the head of the family, and it made him feel lost, not knowing quite where he was supposed to fit in.
It didn’t help that Claire’s father grilled him mercilessly about his intentions towards Claire. Sean could understand it—he shared Jacob’s opinion of Claire’s previous boyfriends, at least the ones that he’d met—but it still grated that he’d be judged alongside them.
And he could also see what Claire meant about her dad not believing in her. Jacob didn’t see the point of spending time and money making six sets of wedding clothes that hadn’t actually been ordered by clients, and he’d said a couple of times during the evening that he couldn’t see how Claire would possibly get a return on her investment. Claire had smiled sweetly and glossed over it, but Sean had seen that little pleat between her brows that only appeared when she was really unhappy about something. Clearly she was hurt by the way her father still didn’t believe in her.
Well, maybe he could give Jacob Stewart something to think about. ‘I always do trade shows,’ he said. ‘They’re really good for awareness—and it makes new customers consider stocking you when they see the quality of your product.’
‘Maybe,’ Jacob said.
‘I don’t know if you saw the dress Claire made for my sister, but it was absolutely amazing. She’s really good at what she does. And what gives her the extra edge is that she loves what she does, too. That gives her clients confidence. And it’s why they tell all their friends about her. Her referral rate is stunning.’
Jacob said nothing, but raised an eyebrow.
Sean decided not to push it any further—the last thing he wanted was for Jacob to upset Claire any further on the subject and knock her confidence at this late stage—but he had to hide a smile when he saw the fervent thumbs-up that Claire’s grandmother and aunt did out of Jacob’s viewpoint.
Though he was quiet when he drove Claire home.
‘I’m sorry, Sean. I shouldn’t have asked you to meet them—it’s too early,’ she said, guessing why he was quiet and getting it totally wrong. ‘It’s just, well, they’ll all be coming to the wedding show and I thought it’d be better if you met them before rather than spring it on you then.’
‘No, it was nice to meet them,’ he said. ‘I liked them.’ He wanted to shake her father, but judged it not the most tactful thing to say.
‘They liked you—and Dad approved of you, which has to be a first.’
He couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘Even though I argued with him?’
‘You batted my corner,’ she said. ‘And I appreciate that. I think he did, too. Dad’s just...a bit difficult.’
‘He’ll come round in the end,’ Sean said. ‘When he sees your collection on the catwalk, he’ll understand.’
‘Hardly. He’s a guy. So he’s not the slightest bit interested in dresses,’ Claire said, though to Sean’s relief this time she was smiling rather than looking upset. ‘I just have to remember not to let it get to me.’
‘You’re going to be brilliant,’ Sean said. ‘Come on. Let’s go to bed.’
She smiled. ‘I thought you’d never ask...’
* * *
Over the next week, Claire worked later and later on last-minute changes to the wedding show outfits, and the only way Sean could get her out of her workroom for dinner was to haul her manually over his shoulder and carry her out of the room.
‘You need to eat to keep your strength up, and you can’t live off sandwiches for the next week,’ he told her, ‘or you’ll make yourself ill.’
‘I guess.’ She blinked as she took in the fact that her kitchen was actually being used and something smelled gorgeous. ‘Hang on, dinner isn’t a takeaway.’
‘It’s nothing fancy, either,’ Sean said dryly, ‘but it’s home-cooked from scratch and there are proper vegetables.’ He gave her a rueful smile. ‘And at least you have gadgets that help.’
‘My electric steamer. Best gadget ever.’ She smiled back and stroked his face. ‘Sean, thank you. It’s really good of you to do this for me.’
‘Any time, and you know you’d do the same if I was the one up to my eyes in preparation for a big event, so it’s not a big deal.’ He kissed her lightly. ‘Sit down, milady, because dinner will be served in about thirty seconds.’
But when he’d dished up and they were eating, he noticed that she was pushing her food around her plate. ‘Is my cooking that terrible? You don’t have to be polite with me—leave it if you hate it.’
‘It’s wonderful. I’m just tired.’ She made an effort to eat.
He tried to distract her a little. ‘So do you have a dream of a dress?’
‘Not really,’ she said.
‘So all these years when you’ve sketched wedding dresses, you never once drew the one you wanted for yourself?’
‘I guess it would depend when and where I got married—if it was on a beach in the Seychelles I wouldn’t pick the same dress, veil or shoes as I’d pick for a tiny country church in the middle of winter in, say, the far north of Scotland.’
‘I guess,’ he said. ‘So which kind of wedding would you prefer?’
‘It’s all academic,’ she said.
He could guess why she wasn’t answering him—she was obviously worried he’d think she was hinting and had expectations where he was concerned.
‘Is that why the outfits in your wedding collection are so diverse?’
‘Yes—four seasonal weddings, one vintage-inspired outfit, and one that’s more tailored towards a civil wedding,’ she explained.
‘That’s a good range,’ he said. ‘It will show people what you can do.’
‘I hope so.’ For a second she looked really worried and vulnerable.
‘Claire, you know your stuff, you’re good at what you do and your work is really going to shine at the show.’ He reached over to squeeze her hand. ‘I believe in you.’
‘Thank you, though I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’
‘I know you weren’t, and I was being sincere.’
‘Sorry.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Ignore me. It’s just a bit of stage fright, or whatever the catwalk equivalent is.’
‘Which is totally understandable, given that it’s your first show.’ He cleared their plates away. ‘Let me get you some coffee.’
She gave him a tired smile. ‘Sorry, I’m really not pulling my weight in this relationship right now.’
‘Claire, you’re so busy you barely have time to breathe. I’m not going to give you a hard time about that; I just want to take some of the weight off your shoulders,’ he said.
‘Then thank you. Coffee would be lovely.’
He made two mugs of coffee and set them on the table. ‘This is decaf,’ he said, ‘because I think you’re already going to have enough trouble getting to sleep and the last thing you need is caffeine.’
‘I guess.’
And he hoped that what he was about to do would distract her enough to let her fall asleep in his arms tonight and stop worrying quite so much about the wedding show.
He rescued the box he’d stowed in her fridge earlier—a box containing a very important message. He checked behind the door that he hadn’t accidentally disturbed the contents of the box and mixed up the order of the lettered chocolates, then brought them out and placed the box on the table in front of her.
She gave him a tired smile. ‘Would these be some of your awesome salted caramels? Or are you trying out new stuff on me as your personal focus group?’
‘Open the box and see,’ he invited.
She did so, and her eyes widened as she read the message. When she looked back at him, he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘Sean.’
‘Hey. They say you should say it with flowers, but I know you like to be different, so I thought I’d say it in chocolate.’ He’d iced the letters himself. I love you Claire. He paused. ‘Or maybe I just need to say it.’ He swallowed hard. Funny how his throat felt as if it were filled with sand. ‘I’ve never said this to anyone before. I love you, Claire. I think I probably have for years, but the idea of letting anyone close scared me spitless. You know you asked me what scared me? That. Deep down guess I was worried that I’d end up losing my partner like I lost my parents, so it was easier to keep you at a distance.’
‘So what changed?’ she asked.
‘Capri,’ he said. ‘Seeing the way you just got on with things and sorted out the problems when Ashleigh’s dress went missing. And then dancing with you. I really couldn’t take my eyes off you—it wasn’t just the song. I tried to tell myself that it was just physical attraction, but it’s more than that. So very much more.’
‘Oh, Sean.’ She blinked back the tears.
And now he just couldn’t shut up. ‘And in these last few weeks, getting to know you, I’ve seen you for who you really are. You’re funny and you’re brave and you’re bossy, and you think outside the box, and—you know your speed dating question thing, about what you’re looking for in a partner? I can answer that, now. I’m looking for you, Claire. You’re everything I want.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Though my timing’s a bit rubbish, given that you’re up to your eyes right now.’
‘Your timing’s perfect,’ she said softly. ‘You know, I had a huge crush on you when I was fourteen, but you were my best friend’s older brother, which made you off limits. And you always made me feel as if I was a nuisance.’
‘You probably were, when you were a teenager.’
She laughed. ‘Tell it to me straight, why don’t you?’
He laughed back. ‘You wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know it—I love you, Claire.’
‘I love you, too, Sean.’ She pushed her chair back, came round to his side of the table, wrapped her arms round him and kissed him. ‘Over the last few weeks I’ve got to know you and you’re not quite who I thought you were, either. You’re this human dynamo but you also think on your feet. You’re not regimented and rule-bound.’
‘No?’
‘Well, maybe just a little bit—and you do look good in a suit.’ She smiled at him. ‘Though how I really like you dressed is in faded jeans, and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It makes you much more touchable.’
‘Noted,’ he said.
He could see that she was so tired, she didn’t even have the energy to drink her coffee. So he carried her to bed, cherished her, and let her fall asleep in his arms. He wasn’t ready to sleep yet; it was good just to lie in the dark with her in his arms, thinking. How amazing it was that she felt the same way about him. So maybe, just maybe, this was going to work out.
