Page 23 of Corkscrew You
“I appreciate that, ma’am,” I say. “I’m looking forward to working here.”
“She loved her daddy, too.” Iris fires a final shot. “Billy was a fine, upstanding man. His passing was a sad loss for us all.”
Finally, she hands me a mug of coffee. Smells good. Not as strong as Shelby’s, but anything stronger than that would drop you like a kick to the heart.
“I’ll box up the pie,” says Iris. “Sit wherever you like.”
I’m speculating on whether that means she’s softened a fraction, when the bell jingles again, and the door is shoved open with enthusiasm. In strides a tanned, athletic-looking blonde, wearing a climbing harness around her very short shorts, and carrying a safety helmet under one arm.
She spots me, and her face lights up.
“Oh, hey! It’s you!”
I swear I have never seen this girl before in my life.
“You’re Nathan!”
She holds out her hand to shake mine, and I switch the coffee mug to my left because I’m sure as hell not giving Iris the chance to take it away from me.
“I’m Jordan. Shelby’s friend.”
Have to say that’s a relief. Until I wonder how she recognized me so easily. How exactly has Shelby described me?
“Chiara said you guys had drinks at Bartons last night,” she says. “Rather you than me. I mean Ted’s great and all that, but those cocktails are like what the hell, could I not just have a beer, right?”
“Right.”
“Thanks for driving Shel home. Ted said you were—” She puts on a bad English accent “—quite the gentleman.”
No aspect of my life will be private here. May as well accept that now.
“And you’ve met Javi and Cam, too.” She rams home my point. “God, Cam, he’s so hot. Love those strong, silent types.”
Opposites attract, I guess. Though I can’t see why she’d go for any guy who has recipes for roadkill.
“Jordan, honey, I’ve got your lunch order out back. I’ll fetch it.”
Iris is smiling. She likes Jordan. Jury’s out on whetherI’vecome up any notches in her estimation.
Thing is, I like Jordan, too. She’s impossiblenotto like. Cheerful, full of energy, slightly chaotic. Like a basketful of Labrador puppies.
“What’s with the gear?” I gesture to her harness and helmet. “Rock climbing?”
“Yeah. Got a summer holiday group of teens,” she says. “Mostly boys.”
Hope their hormones let them focus on the climbing or there’ll be carnage.
Iris drops a giant box full of sandwiches and glazed donuts on the counter. If you didn’t know they were for a group of teens, you’d think she was catering for an army.
“Thanks, Iris, you’re a star.”
I’m about to ask whether Jordan needs help carrying the box when she lifts it off the counter like it’s made of air.
“You should come for a beer with us at the Silver Saddle,” she says to me. “Friday’s our girls’ night but you can crash it, seeing you know us all now.”
My alcohol-fuzzed brain manages to work out that “us all” means Jordan, Chiara and Shelby. I’d need something stronger than beer to keep up with those three. Guess I foresee another hangover inmyfuture.
“Sure,” I say. “Thanks.”
