My Perfect Stranger: A hilarious love story by the bestselling author of One Day in December

‘My shampoo?’ she said, thrown. ‘It’s kind of pink, I think …?’

He sighed, and if he could have rolled his eyes, she felt sure he would’ve.

‘Your hair, Honey,’ he said. ‘What colour is it?’

‘Oh … blonde. It’s blonde.’ For information that would be readily available to a sighted person, it felt absurdly intimate.

He nodded again with a half smirk. ‘Figures.’

‘Cheap shot, rock star.’

He shrugged. ‘You made it too easy.’

‘I’m considering taking my whisky home with me.’

‘I know where you live.’

The idea of him leaving his flat and coming into hers made her itch with panic, and she held the whisky out uncertainly until the glass touched his hand.

‘Here.’

His fingers curled around the bottle, brushing hers, silencing them both.

‘Thanks,’ he muttered ungraciously, drawing it into his body as if she might take it away from him.

‘I’ll … I’ll go then,’ she said, waving towards her flat even though he couldn’t see the gesture.

He nodded, in that silent, brooding way that was fast becoming his trademark.

Stepping backwards, wavering in the no-man’s-land between their two front doors, Honey watched his stillness and wondered again what he was thinking of.

As she reached her doorway, she lifted her hand, an automatic gesture of goodbye even though he wouldn’t be aware of it.

‘See you tomorrow,’ she said softly, and for the third time that evening she wished she’d been more considerate with her words. Being around this guy was turning out to be a minefield.

He raised the bottle and inclined his head in quiet acknowledgment of her words, and Honey clicked her door closed.

Hal stood for a few moments longer in the hallway, glad of the fresh supply of whisky. The scent of her lingered in the hallway, and he inhaled until his lungs were as full as they could be. She was chaotic, and she was blonde, and she was the first person to not walk on eggshells around him since the accident eight months ago. He pushed his door to and unscrewed the cap on the whisky.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_b24b9027-3a38-55e6-afcb-3a3fe2738314)

‘I’ve found you a pianist!’

Honey looked at Tash over the glass-topped counter in the charity shop. She’d burst through the door about two seconds previously, her wild red curls snatched back and merry eyed with news. Dressed in off-duty sweat pants and vest, she was a world away from the air-hostess glam of her professional life. She grinned as she leaned both elbows on the glass and cupped her chin.

Honey shot a nervous glance towards Tash and inclined her head imperceptibly towards Mimi, who was sorting through a bag of brooches nearby. Too late.

‘Why do you need a pianist, Honey?’ Mimi said, glancing up and smiling at Tash with her pearly white dentures.

‘I don’t, especially,’ Honey said, aiming for off-hand and counting on Tash to change the subject. She’d expected the whole pianist idea to die a silent death once they were all sober, and the last thing she wanted was for Mimi and Lucille to know about her less-than-scintillating sex life too.

‘Only my Billy is a dab-hand at tinkling the ivories,’ Mimi said, polishing a glittering flower brooch and then holding it up to the light for inspection. ‘I’m sure he’d help you out if you’re in a fix, dear.’

Tash snort-choked on the coffee Lucille had just placed in front of her, and Honey screwed up her eyes tight against the vision of Mimi’s octogenarian boyfriend tinkling her ivories.

‘He’s got magic fingers, he makes all the women in the home swoon,’ Lucille chimed in as she pulled up a stool on Honey’s other side. Honey passed her hand over her lips in case she threw up in her mouth a little at the idea of Billy and his magic fingers. She wanted to kill Tash for mentioning the subject at all in front of Mimi and Lucille.

‘I don’t think Billy would be suitable for this particular gig,’ Tash laughed.

‘Don’t dismiss him because of his age,’ Mimi sniffed. ‘He’s quite modern for an older man. He knows some up-to-date things too.’

‘How can I put this, girls …?’ Tash sighed and placed her cup down delicately. ‘This is a very, umm, intimate gig. As in an audience of like, one.’

Mimi and Lucille frowned in tandem. ‘You mean you’re looking for a pianist to play just for Honey?’ Lucille said.

‘Er, hello, I am actually here,’ Honey grumbled. ‘Now can we change the subject, please?’

‘Not to play for Honey,’ Tash said, completely ignoring her friend. ‘To play with Honey.’

‘You play the piano, dear?’ Mimi said, turning her big brown eyes to Honey. ‘How did I not know that? Billy will be thrilled. You can duet.’

‘Look, I don’t play the flippin’ piano, okay?’ Honey said, picking her cup up and draining it, then gathering up the empty cups and taking them into the kitchen in order to end the conversation. She realised her tactical error a few minutes later when the trio lapsed into suspicious silence on her return; the conversation had clearly carried on perfectly well without her. Surely Tash hadn’t gone into detail about the piano man mission to Lucille and Mimi?

Lucille patted Honey’s hand. ‘We think it’s marvellous that you’re doing something about your little problem,’ she whispered the last few words conspiratorially, and Mimi covered her other hand with her own liver-spotted one. ‘Pianists are definitely good with their hands. Take it from someone who knows. Even at our age, my Billy can …’ she tailed off and shrugged her slight shoulders, thankfully drawing a veil over the finer details before she and Lucille drifted away to help customers.

Honey shot Tash a murderous look, which she ignored with a cheeky grin.

‘So, as I was saying. I’ve found you a pianist.’

‘Tash, I don’t want one. Not really. It was a joke.’

Tash frowned and shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. It wasn’t, and it isn’t. Anyway, you can’t back out now, because I’ve set you up on a date with him.’

‘What? No.’ Honey didn’t like the way this conversation was headed. ‘Who is he, anyway?’

‘Deano. You’re gonna love him,’ Tash said. ‘He’s one of the girls I work with’s brother’s flat mate. Or was it her brother’s friend’s flat mate?’

‘You’ve never even met him, have you?’

Tash looked shifty. ‘Well, not exactly myself, but she showed me a picture and he’s hot.’

‘So you’ve set me up with some randomer you’ve never met called Deano. He doesn’t even sound like a pianist to me.’

‘Oh, he is. For deffo. Well … a synthesiser, but that’s practically the same thing, isn’t it?’ Tash held up her hand to silence the protest on Honey’s lips. ‘And here’s the best bit. He’s in a band.’

Honey stared at her friend. ‘So. To clarify. You’ve set me up on a blind date with a bloke you’ve never met who’s in a band and isn’t even a pianist.’

Tash nodded. ‘Friday night, half past eight at The Cock.’