Page 44 of A Secret Escape

She tried to push Nicole and Zoe out of her head as she dealt with the problems of the day. An irate guest who had tried to cancel their booking for the following week and had been outraged to discover that they would lose the money they’d paid. A woman who wanted to book two adjacent cabins for a Christmas celebration. As well as troubleshooting, she interviewed three people for two positions on the team (finding good staff was a never-ending nightmare) and had a meeting with a local outdoor-pursuits company who were interested in collaborating. Halfway through her morning Lorna burst into the room, staggering under the weight of an extravagant bouquet of flowers.

“Look! Aren’t they amazing?”

Milly was impressed. “Incredible. And it proves Duncan is capable of romantic gestures after all. Good for him.”

“They’re not from Duncan. They’re from Brendan Scott. Isn’t he a sweetie?”

Milly chose not to remind Lorna that just the day before she’d described him as amoody monster. “That’s a thoughtful gesture.”

“I can’t wait to see Duncan’s face when he sees them.”

Milly felt sorry for Duncan, who had always seemed to her to be solid and kind if maybe a little unimaginative.

Thinking of how brutal Richard had been—Life with you just isn’t that exciting, Milly—she was currently of the opinion that kindness in a man was underrated.

“The card saysWith apologies from a grumpy author.” Lorna’s cheeks were flushed. “I’m going to use it as a bookmark and keep it forever. I love his books.”

“You read crime?” Milly thought she knew her team pretty well, but still she was surprised. She’d had Lorna pegged as a lover of happy endings.

“Yes, and he’s the best. Keeps the reader guessing the whole time.You know sometimes books claim you’ll never see the twist coming, and then you see the twist on page two? Well, that’s not him. I don’t let myself buy one of his books until I have a full day off because I know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop. Nothing will get done. Duncan knows that once I have a new Brendan Scott, all I want from him is mugs of tea and finger food so that I don’t have to stop reading to eat.”

“What kind of finger food?”

“He makes me these little rolls of ham, and cubes of cheese. Baby tomatoes. Tiny wedges of cucumber. And he doesn’t try and engage me in conversation until the book is finished. Bliss.”

Milly tried to think of a single time Richard had done something similar for her. Not in the months before he’d walked out, certainly. Before that? She let her mind slip further back but still couldn’t think of a time when he’d done something that thoughtful. About once a month he’d bring her a cup of tea in the morning, but he always made it so milky she usually left it untouched.

Why hadn’t she told him how she liked it? Why hadn’t she saidI hate my tea milky?

He’d never made her food. If she suggested they eat out, his response was always that her food was better than anything you could order in a restaurant, and while that was flattering, it also meant that there was rarely a night when she didn’t cook.

It crossed Milly’s mind that if Lorna didn’t want to hang on to Duncan, then maybe she’d snap him up herself. “Buying flowers is easy. But delivering a plate of food you can eat without a break in your reading is a wonderful gift. It’s personal.”

“Personal?”

“It shows he knows you and wants to make you happy. That’s romantic.” She felt a pang of envy. “Lucky you.”

Lorna frowned. “A few nibbles on a plate aren’t that special.”

“They are when someone has put them together because they know it will please you. Anyway, back to Brendan Scott—” Milly changed the subject before she could feel even more morose about the state of her own love life.“Does this mean you want to go back to cleaning his cabin?”

Lorna’s face was a picture of horror. “I still find him daunting. Also knowing what goes on in his head is a bit freaky, if you know what I mean. Although I’m not suggesting writers act on the stuff they put in their books. At least I hope they don’t, or you should be taking a look under his floorboards before he checks out. Was there a funny smell in there? Any signs that something might be decomposing?”

Only the food in his fridge. “No. All occupants appeared to be alive. But can I assume from that comment that you don’t want to clean his cabin?”

Lorna flushed. “If that’s okay. I feel guilty giving you more to do.”

“I’m happy to do it.” She decided that perhaps she wouldn’t look too closely at why that might be. He definitely hadn’t been flirting with her. She was embarrassed that it had crossed her mind that he might be. “I’m glad he sent you the flowers. It was a nice touch, although he shouldn’t have glared at you in the first place.”

“He’s a creative genius.” Barely able to see past the volume of blooms, Lorna was in a forgiving mood. “I should have made allowances. Was it okay when you went yesterday?”

“Yes.” As promised, she’d returned in the afternoon when he was out and had been careful not to touch the sheets of paper that were carpeting the floor. She’d piled all the dirty mugs and plates into the dishwasher and set it to run while she’d changed sheets and towels and freshened up the rooms. A quick look inside the fridge had revealed that he clearly had no plans to cook a nutritious dinner for himself. She’d removed the single piece of ancient, dried out cheese hiding away at the back and on impulse paid a swift visit to the café. She’d picked up a light summer salad and a slice of lemon tart, which she’d left in his fridge along with a note.

At least she wouldn’t have to worry about him starving or poisoning himself.

“Anyway,” Lorna said as she adjusted her grip on the flowers, “I wanted to show you these and make sure you were fine with everything.”

“I’m fine.” She wondered what Brendan was doing right at that moment. Tapping away at his laptop? Staring across the lake waiting for inspiration? Letting another mug of coffee go cold?

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