Page 26 of The Wake-Up Call

“Getting there!” I call back. “Can I fetch you anything? A tea? A new book?”

“I’m all set, thank you. You missed a call,” he says, nodding towards the desk, “but they left a voicemail.”

“We’re going to have to put you on the payroll,” I tell him just as Louis strolls into the lobby.

“Hey, Izzy,” he says. “Up for that swim tonight?”

He’s wearing jeans and a wool jumper, his hands tucked in hispockets. I get the sense there’s more to Louis than the boyish cheekiness—a bit of an edge, maybe. It makes me curious. He’s different from the usual men I go for, and after my chat with Grigg and Sameera, I’m thinking that’s definitely a good thing. Maybe I should give this a go.

I try to imagine what my mum would have said about him. She and Dad always told me I should choose someone kind and attentive—“A man who smiles easily, that’s what you need,” Mum once said.

That thought swings it.

“Why not?” I say just as Lucas marches out of the restaurant, looking furious about something.

Louis smiles. “Excellent. See you when your shift ends—five, is it?”

“Perfect.” I turn my attention to the glowering Lucas. “What?” I ask.

The two of us have been avoiding each other more than ever since our interaction in the car park. Every time I see him, that conversation leaps into my mind—his intensity, the way he looked at me when I called himoffensively handsome.

“You volunteered me to wait on the hen party for lunch?”

I press my lips together, trying very hard not to smile. I forgot I did that.

“Can you not do it?” I ask.

“I can,” he says with deliberation. “But I don’t want to. You know I hate waiting on the big groups. Especially drunk ones.Especiallyhens.”

“But you always go down so well with the hens!”

“If anyone attempts to undress me, it will be you I’m suing,” Lucas says darkly.

“Well, I’m going to be spending the time sorting coins from thelost-property room and taking them to the post office. You could swap, if you like.”

I gesture to the jars of loose change lining the edge of the front desk. Lucas stares at them.

“Does that actually need to be done?”

“It’s money,” I point out. “Are you suggesting I throw it in the bin?”

He growls under his breath and stalks off towards the restaurant. Then he pauses, turning with his hand on the door.

“How is your hunt for your wedding ring’s owner going?”

“Brilliantly!” I say. “I’m down to my final five contenders.”

Five, seventeen—what’s the difference, really?

“Good for you,” Lucas says.

I narrow my eyes. His tone is far too... nice.

“How’s yours going?” I ask.

“A woman is dropping in to collect her lost ring at three o’clock,” he says, pushing through the restaurant door and letting it swing shut behind him.

Shit.

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