Page 53 of The Great British Bachelor Chase

“Alright,” he says. Bradley sounds disappointed, like he was hoping for a fight. “But there better be massive savings. Fucking Grand Canyon sized cuts. Don’t go native on me now.”

He hangs up.

I catch Jolene’s lip curl of disdain. “Andthat’sthe new head of the studio,” I tell her with a sigh.

“He sounds like a real peach.” Jolene agrees. Then she pauses. “Thanks for not telling him about Hugo,” she adds in a small voice. “I know it’s your job to report back, but…”

“Hey, it’s my arse on the line too now,” I give a casual shrug, acting like it’s no big deal to lie through my teeth and jeopardize my job—make that my entire reputation. I’m supposed to be the impartial outsider, ruthlessly protecting the bottom line at all costs. If they knew I was covering for Hugo’s disappearance, let alone chasing across the British Isles in some last-ditch attempt to find him…

I’d be cooked.

“Still… Thank you,” Jolene says again. “I know you didn’t want to come chasing after me so, I appreciate it. That’s all.”

Didn’t want to…?

I look over and catch a glimpse of her expression. It’s unguarded this time, revealing a flash of naked vulnerability, and something tender, too. Heartfelt.

The moment poleaxes me. But just as quick, she looks away.

Have I been reading her all wrong?

My mind races now. What if Jolene’s breezy rejection today is just an act? What if this is just her pride and defenses talking, and underneath the careless smile is something else.

A chance for us…

Or am I just imagining things now?

Shit. I’m just debating making an even bigger arse of myself and speaking up, when Jolene sits up straighter in her seat, looking around. “Take the next left,” she announces, consulting her phone. “We’re nearly there!”

I make the turning, forcing my thoughts back to the matter at hand. Like getting Hugo bloody Chambers back on set where he belongs. Spending all this time cooped up with Jolene is like riding the damn Big Dipper on Blackpool Pier, and just as dangerous for my health.

I follow the phone’s directions into the city, and soon, the roads turn residential: a smart, up-and-coming neighborhood with a fancy wine bar and a deli on the corner. “Caledonian Road,” Jolene reads. “That’s it. Number twenty-two.”

I pull the Volkswagen over to the curb outside. “How do you want to handle this?” Jolene asks me, pausing.

“You mean, besides reminding Hugo that he’s got a bloody job to do, is in breach of contract, and is about to be personally liable for shutting down the entire damn film?”

My answer comes out sharp with frustration. Jolene blinks. Damn. “Let’s just get him back where he belongs,” I growl, wrenching the car door open and striding up the front path. The house is a neat semi with flower-boxes in the window and green paint on the door. I ring the doorbell as Jolene joins me on the step.

“Maybe you should leave the talking to me?” Jolene ventures tactfully, as footsteps approach. “Catching more flies with honey, and all that.”

“Be my guest.” I stand back, as the door swings open.

“Hi?” A redheaded woman with a sharp bobbed haircut looks between us. She’s wearing a trendy black jumpsuit and lipstick, clutching a mug in one hand. “Can I help you?”

“Mara Dunleavey?” Jolene speaks up.

“That’s me,” she smiles.

“Great! We’re here about—”

“Oh, perfect,” Mara cuts her off. “You’re early. Do you have a van coming?” she asks, looking past us. “Because the cabinet isn’t heavy, but it won’t fit in the boot.”

“Cabinet?” Jolene echoes.

“I know I posted it was a hundred quid, but honestly, if you can get the damn thing out of here, I’ll let you take it for fifty. Come on in before it starts raining again.” She beckons us and disappears down the hall.

Jolene shoots me a baffled look. Clearly, Mara’s expecting someone else, but it’s better than a door slammed in our faces.

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