Page 27 of Tattered Edges

I glanced toward the custom shelves along the wall, filled with books that belonged to a dead man I’d never know. “Honestly? No. Maybe it would be weird if he lived here, but it’s obvious he didn’t. It’s more like I moved into his study or something.” I shrugged. “He had good taste, anyway. Plus, the bits and pieces of him that are here—they tell their own story of him, you know? I’m curious about who he was. It’s become quite apparent I won’t be getting to know him from my half brother and sister.”

“Yes. Let’s get to that,” she insisted waggling her eyebrows.

I took a healthy gulp of coffee and then proceeded to tell her everything. I started with finding the photograph of my family of strangers and the subsequent emotional breakdown that was the good cry I thought I needed. Then I narrated most of the happenings from my meeting with the Blackstones Monday morning, to my dinner with Victoria, to my surprise visit from Archie, all the way up to Thursday night.

Not surprisingly, Diane had loads to say about Archie and Eloise. As someone who loved me dearly, she didn’t have any tolerance for anyone who decided I wasn’t worth knowing without actually taking the time to try to learn anything at all about me.

Listening to her rant as she stood up for me felt like a hug from halfway across the world.

My coffee was gone, and the sun was shining through the windows when I confessed, “There is one other thing I should mention. Actually, not athingso much as a situation. A slight complication, really.”

Diane narrowed her eyes at me skeptically before she asked, “Who is he? Did you sleep with him? Was the sex any good?”

I immediately slapped a hand over my eyes in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the fact that she knew me so well made me laugh.

“Okay, so, remember that photo I sent from a pub my first night here? Well, I might have gotten a little drunk before I kissed one of the bartenders in an effort to entice him to bed. But we didn’t have sex,” I was quick to add. “He thought I was a tourist and declined the offer.”

“So—what you’re telling me is you put yourself out there, left with your tail between your legs, and now when I come visit, you won’t be taking me to that pub? Sawyer, hon, I’m sure there’s no shortage of bars for us to go to find a decent martini and a cosmo.”

I parted my fingers in order to peek through them and down at the image of her on my screen. “That’snot the complicated part. That bartender? Not just a bartender. He owns the pub. How do I know that? Because it turns outhe’sthe one Archie was planning on selling the bookstore to.”

Diane’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Yeah. I propositioned my neighbor before I knew he was my neighbor.”

I watched as she tried to hold back her laughter, then dropped my hand away from my face.

“There’s more.”

“I’m listening,” she assured me through a grin.

I told her about the fuse box incident. About the wine and the biscuits. About Graham and the invitation I’d received to watch the Manchester United match next door. When I was finished, she studied me for a moment before she responded.

“Everyone knows a drunken kiss is easily forgotten. You’re both adults; and he didn’t curse you out when you woke him up yesterday, so he obviously isn’t holding it against you. The only way this is complicated is if you’re still interested in him.”

I raked my fingers through my hair, holding it away from my face as I admitted, “I mean, maybe? I don’t know. When he was just a random guy, he was a chance to distract myself. Now he’s not just a random guy. He’s my neighbor and the man who owns the business next to mine. I’m like a fish out of water over here. It would be completely stupid of me to ruin my chance at a friendship with him. He’s already helped me out once, and I know it won’t be the last time.

“Except,” I paused, tightening my grip in my hair before I let it go. “He’s—he’s way hotter than any ginger man has the right to be. Seriously. A pale, freckled, redheaded woman is capable of being anywhere from adorable to gorgeous—but nameonenaturally born redheaded man who is just flat out hot. Just one. Can you? Because I can’t. Not until I met Rory.”

Laughing, she shook her head and replied, “You’re right. None spring to mind. Do you happen to have a picture of this Rory?”

“No. I don’t. And before you ask, I already scoured the internet.”

I grimaced as the memory from the previous night rushed to the forefront of my mind. After I’d grabbed a bit of takeout, I came back to the flat and proceeded to look him up while I ate. I didn’t know his last name, but The King’s Steed had a website that informed me it was Collins. Armed with this information, I did some digging—though, it yielded very unsatisfactory results.

“But you’re going to his place tonight, right?”

“Diane, I’m not going to sneak a picture.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” she insisted with a grin. “Forget the picture, go back to the part where you might be interested. It sounds like you could be into him but you’re not really sure. He’s hot, he’s neighborly, he owns a successful pub, but you don’t know much else about him. Maybe you hang out with this guy in his element with his friends and you decide you’re not really that into it after all.”

“And if the opposite happens?”

She shrugged. “Youactually interested in someone for more than a night? It would be a welcome change of pace.”

“Hey,” I muttered with a frown. “I’m not some harlot.”

“I didn’t say you were. But it’s been ages since you’ve shown any substantive interest in a man. You haven’t dated anyone seriously since before your mom died. A therapist would have a field day with that information.”

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