Page 20 of A Perfect Devon Pub
‘So, what made you give up being a professional surfer? Is thatwhy you’re travelling? Did you just quit?’ The moment the words were out of her mouth Fiona regretted them. Was she being too personal?
‘No. I gave that dream up when I was seventeen. I was good enough to get to the top, but I was training six hours a day – I wasn’t living.’
‘That’s a pretty grown-up realization for a seventeen year old.’
A wistful look came over him. ‘Yeah, well ... I had my reasons.’
There was a moment’s silence which Josh broke, his voice husky, ‘What’s next in our ...exploration?’
Fiona couldn’t help the blush that rushed to her cheeks at his suggestive tone. ‘We could delve into food pairing,’ she suggested. ‘Once you grasp the basics, we’ll explore how flavours dance together.’
His smile turned teasing. ‘Teach me how to taste?’ he said, and the way he held her gaze made it clear he wasn’t just talking about wine anymore. ‘Something about your passion for all this tells me you’d be an amazing teacher.’
She knew she should keep her distance, but it was hard not to get drawn in by his open smile, laid-back demeanour and flirtatious banter. And the praise he lavished made her feel good about herself and her professional skills, perhaps for the first time since arriving in Devon. What was the harm in it? Would a little light flirtation really hurt anyone if it helped distract her from the mess she’d made of her life?
The door slammed against the wall, giving her an answer. Fiona spun round, meeting Ru’s confident gaze.
‘Fiona! I thought I’d find you in here,’ Ru boomed, his presence like a summer storm. The light caught his sharp jawline and assured smile.
‘Ruben,’ she said, detecting her mouth suddenly go dry. ‘Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something?’
He strode to the table, picked up her book, saying. ‘Wine.Interesting.’ He turned to Josh, eyes narrowing. ‘George wants you back at the pots.’
Josh’s chair scraped against the floor. He gave Ruben a mock salute and sauntered out.
Fiona sighed. When Ru was in the room, she felt like she was at the top of a rollercoaster about to plunge. It made it impossible to concentrate on anything else.
‘Was that everything, Ru?’
‘Just looking after you, Fi,’ he said. ‘If a head chef isn’t good enough for you, then where does an Aussie pot washer come on the list?’
Fiona felt her hackles rise. Ru had never been the sort of person to be snide about junior roles in the kitchen. ‘Let’s not make this any more difficult than it already is. We said we’d keep it professional, remember?’
‘Oh, I remember,’ said Ru bitterly. He turned and walked back to the kitchen, taking a piece of her heart with him.
Fiona was in the staffroom pulling off her apron, her mind composing another tutorial for Josh, when she heard raised voices outside. Ignoring them, she grabbed her handbag, thinking that before they started tasting anything, she should cover the different types of wine in a bit more detail. She trotted through reception.
Outside, she paused on the top step. Below her, Ru was standing with his arms around two laughing women. He was smiling broadly, while a third woman snapped pictures on a phone.
‘Autograph, autograph, please!’ squealed one woman. Fiona watched the scene unfold, her lips tightening involuntarily. It was all so familiar. The way Ru worked a crowd, being effortlessly charming while soaking up the attention – it was like watching a rerun of a show she knew by heart.
A memory came sharp and vivid: Ru in the open plan kitchen of the Fork & Cork, sweet-talking the guests as though they were old friends. She could see him there, leaning casually against the counter, his laugh loud and practised. Any time she had confronted him about his relentless flirting, he would brush it off with the same defence: ‘It’s part of the job, Fiona.’
The last time they’d had that argument, her patience had worn thin. Her retort had been biting, and she remembered it landing like a slap: ‘But you don’t have to look like you’re enjoying it so much.’
His reply was instantaneous. ‘Tell me how to flirt without doing that?’
She huffed. She didn’t think it was just an act. Not anymore. Maybe a year ago when some of his fans started getting frisky, Ru had responded because he thought it was good for business, but recently she believed he was courting adulation, and thrived on it, addicted to his own fame.
His tone softened. ‘Don’t let the jealousy monster get to you, Fi. You know you’re the only woman I love. Isn’t that enough?’
Now, seeing him buzzing, she wondered what it must be like for Ru to work shut away, deprived of a stage. It was a bit like asking an opera singer to perform behind the stage curtains, muffling their voice.
Nearby, Rose and George stood watching the spectacle. ‘Look at this – no one ever asks me for my photo,’ said George.
Rose dug her husband in the ribs. ‘Better learn how it’s done, love. He won’t be here forever.’
Fiona spoke in a sarcastic tone, ‘Yes, all hail the great Ruben ... blessing us mere mortals with his gourmet touch.’
