Page 3 of Crossed Paths
I lean back slightly, narrowing my eyes. “This some kind of soft sell, is it?”
She shrugs, pleased with herself. “I wouldn’t dream of pressuring you. But a walk’s a walk. And it’s not like the hills are short of handsome scenery.”
I open my mouth to reply but Peter beats me to it.
“Come on, Al. One Saturday morning. It won’t kill you.”
I sigh. I should say no, not only because Saturdays are busy and I am short on staff as it is. However, something unspoken is pushing me to do this. “No promises.”
Before he can reply, his phone buzzes on the bar. He glances at the screen, grins, and answers.
“Hunter! We were just talking about you. Guess what—Ally’s coming on Saturday!”
I stare at him in horror. “Peter—!”
He holds the phone away from his ear just in time to dodge the tea towel I fling at his head. Mrs Higgins chuckles into her sherry like this is the best entertainment she’s had all week.
Peter mouths,You’re welcome.
And just like that, I know I’m going. Not because I want to. Not even because they talked me into it.
No, I’m going because nowhethinks I’m coming, and I can’t think of a single excuse not to.
Chapter 2
Hunter
Saturday morning air inSt Claire has that particular kind of stillness you only get before the day kicks into gear. I pull the handbrake and sit for a moment, looking up at Morton Hall.
The slate roof gleams faintly in the spring light, the ivy’s creeping back over the side walls just the way I like it, and the windows practically sparkle. It still stops me in my tracks sometimes thatthisis mine.
The locals still call itthe old manorhalf the time, but Morton Hall is a proper hotel now; thirty rooms, boutique style, and not too posh for Yorkshire. The result of years of work, a few sleepless nights, and one very big risk.
My family thought I was mad.
"You’re investing your inheritance into what, exactly?" my mum said, trying to keep her voice neutral, which always meant she was seconds away from losing it.
My dad didn't say anything for a full minute, just folded his arms and stared at me like I’d told him I wanted to open a nightclub on the moon.
To be fair, I understood the shock. Most people don’t throw a windfall into creaky old buildings in sleepy villages. But then most people didn’t have Granddad George.
It was him who told me to get a summer job when I was sixteen. Said if I was going to have opinions, I should earn the right to hold them. I got a pot washer’s job in a pub in Skipton, then front of house the year after. By the time I was twenty-one, I’d worked every job in the building—bar, kitchen, reception. Fell in love with it, in spite of the hours.
So when Granddad left me enough to do something real, something permanent, this felt like the only answer. And I still reckon he’d be proud if he could see the place now. We’ve been featured inThe Yorkshire PostandLiving Norththree times this year alone, and we’re already booked solid next summer.
I tighten the straps on my rucksack, take one last glance at the old stone building, and head for the footpath. The walking group meets by the village green in twenty minutes.
My stomach's tying itself in knots, and it’s not because of Peter. It’s all because of his sister.
The woman I teased until she screamed when I was ten. The one I drove absolutely mental at sixteen by blasting punk music through Peter’s stereo until she banged on the bedroom wall like she was about to come through it.
And the one I’ve had a crush on since I was eighteen.
That crush ebbed and flowed, faded in the background sometimes—when life got busy, when she got married, when I told myself it was never going to happen. But it never really went. Not fully.
I remember the day her marriage exploded in front of the entire bloody village. The way Darren grabbed hissecretary like they were on the set of some bad rom-com. I’d never seen Alex look so… still. Not shocked. Not angry. Just frozen. Like someone had flipped a switch and she’d shorted out.
I spent three hours in the gym that night, running like I was being chased. Only thing that kept me from hunting Darren down and beating the shit out of him was knowing Alex wouldn’t have wanted that. She’d already lost enough without her brother’s best mate getting locked up on her behalf.
