Page 9 of Crossed Paths
And then we’re moving. Side by side, bumping shoulders, shouting drink orders, catching coins, taking card taps, handing over crisps.
It’s chaos.
But somehow, with him there, I’m not drowning in it.
The crowd thins slowly, the volume dipping with every coat zipped and goodbye waved. A few stragglers linger by the fireplace, chatting over half-finished pints, but the rush has passed.
I lean against the bar, catching my breath, cheeks flushed, hair completely undone. Hunter’s drying glasses beside me like he’s been doing it for years, totally unfazed.
Tom has already slipped out with a wave and a mumbled thanks, leaving just the two of us behind the bar.
Before I can thank Hunter, Nancy steps up and rests her hands on the counter, looking sheepish.
“I’m so sorry for not giving you a heads up, love,” she says. “Didn’t think everyone would actually come. Usually, half of them slope off after the hill.”
I shake my head. “Honestly, it’s fine. Bit of chaos now and then keeps us on our toes.”
She brightens at that. “Well, if it’s alright with you, I’d love to make this a regular thing. The group’s really taken to it—finishing the walk here, I mean. It’d be once a week, give or take.”
My tiredness vanishes in a flash. “I’d love that. Absolutely. Let’s make it a thing.”
Hunter sets down the last clean pint glass. “A friend of mine worked in the Alps one summer, and they always offered walkers a charcuterie board. This was before that sort of thing even caught on over here.”
Nancy perks up. “Oh, how very continental.”
“That’s actually a brilliant idea,” I say, already thinking through logistics. “I could put together something simple—cheeses, Scotch Egg, sausage rolls. Call itThe Rambler’s Break. And anyone from the group gets twenty percent off.”
Nancy claps her hands, practically glowing. “Oh, they’ll love that. I’ll spread the word next week. You’ll be swamped.”
I smile, this time without hesitation. “Good. Let them come.”
She gathers her jacket, offers Hunter a knowing little smile, then gives me a quick squeeze on the arm. “Thanks again, love. This was just what the group needed.”
I watch her go. It hits me, then, just how long it’s been since someone described anything I did asneeded—andmeant it in a way that didn’t involve fixing the card machine or restocking the crisps.
“Oi, oi,” comes Peter’s voice, as he finally strolls over from the other side of the pub, flushed and smug.
I raise an eyebrow. “Where haveyoubeen?”
He shrugs, trying—and failing—to look casual. “Just having a nice chat.”
“With your tongue down that blonde hiker’s throat?”
“Networking,” he says, deadpan. “It’s all about building relationships.”
I roll my eyes. “Do you want to maybe help clean up some of these tables while you’re at it?”
But before he can reply, Hunter steps in.
“I’ve got it,” he says easily. “Go on, mate.”
Peter claps him on the back. “Cheers, legend. Knew I could count on you.” Then he gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Nice job, Ally. See you tomorrow.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
I shake my head after him. “Honestly. He’s still fifteen at heart.”
Hunter shrugs. “She seemed into it.”
