Kathleen Tessaro 3-Book Collection: The Flirt, The Debutante, The Perfume Collector

‘Well,’ he put his mug down, ‘he kissed you, didn’t he, Red?’

Sam was nothing if not observant.

‘So what if he did?’ She was blushing again. Turning, she pretended to be deeply engrossed in removing a coffee stain from another table. ‘And don’t call me Red. I’m too old for nicknames. I’m nearly twenty-two, not some child.’

‘Yeah. Sure.’

Without looking round, she knew he was laughing.

‘You like him,’ Sam teased.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Rose tried to sound blasé and sophisticated. Unfortunately, she was too excited to keep up the pretence for long. ‘But I think he likes me. He’s coming back tomorrow!’

‘Did he pay his bill?’

‘Well, he would’ve, only we don’t take Amex.’

Sam rolled his eyes. ‘Every time he comes in, you end up out of pocket.’

‘He’s just short of cash, that’s all. A lot of people don’t get paid till the end of the month.’ She knotted her hair back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. (Now that he was gone, she could put it up again.) ‘I think he looks like Prince William.’

‘Why don’t you meet a nice normal guy?’

‘And where would I find the time for that?’ she asked, irritated. ‘Remember, I have a child to feed. Who wants to go out with a single mother?’

‘Oh, bollocks, Rose! You’re only young! There will be plenty of guys. You know, real guys – with cash instead of promises.’

Rose made a face at him.

‘Speaking of kids, how is Rory?’ he asked.

She sighed. ‘He bit another kid in nursery yesterday.’

‘Well, all of them go through tricky patches when they start school.’

‘You don’t understand.’ She gathered up all the ketchup dispensers and began refilling them. ‘He bit the little boy who’s allergic to nuts, wheat and milk; this kid hardly has anything to live for! And the day before that he headbutted the teacher. She had a lump on her forehead the size of an egg!’

‘Well …’ She’d obviously stretched his bachelor experience to the limit. ‘I wouldn’t worry about him. Now,’ he shifted the subject back to more familiar ground, ‘what are we going to do with you?’

‘Me?’ Rose wiped the shiny lids clean.

‘Yes, you. You’re a smart girl. Don’t you think it’s time you did something more than waitressing?’

She smiled wryly. ‘Not all of us are business tycoons, Sam.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘What does that mean? Listen, I’ll make a going concern of this business if it kills me. If you think I’m going to live and die like my dad in a council flat in Kilburn, you’re wrong.’

‘Hey!’ She swatted him with her tea towel. ‘What’s wrong with that, I’d like to know?’

‘What’s wrong with what?’

They turned.

It was Ricki, Rose’s cousin. Ricki worked as a landscape gardener for a company in Islington. With her cropped hair, tanned muscular frame and uniform of heavy work boots, a fitted T-shirt and jeans slung low across her hipbones, showing off her firm, flat belly, she looked handsome rather than pretty. Every day she stopped in on her way to work for a takeaway coffee and toast. Hands thrust deep into her pockets she strolled over, grinning slyly at Sam.

‘He’s not banging on about conquering the world with his plunger again, is he?’ She gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘How many times do we have to tell you? It’s OK that you’re insane and power crazy. We support you.’

‘Thanks. I feel a lot better.’

‘How’s it going anyway?’ She slid in across from him, picked up the catalogue. ‘Wow. Fascinating. You know, you ought to get out more.’

‘I know, I know,’ he admitted, running his long fingers through his shaggy curls. ‘But if I can get the business to turn a profit this year, then pretty soon I’ll be able to expand, take on a few more guys. I mean, my old man left it in a real state. Everything was about flying by the seat of your pants with him. You want to know what his filing system was? A cardboard box shoved under the kitchen sink.’

Ricki stole a slice of toast from his plate. ‘You could do with a bit more flying by the seat of your pants.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means,’ she tore off a bite, ‘that you’re too bloody serious. When was the last time you went out?’

‘You don’t get it.’

Ricki looked at him. ‘I do get it. You miss him.’

Sam shifted, stared out the window. ‘Yeah. Well … actually,’ he changed the subject, ‘I was picking on Rose for a change.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Ricki grabbed Rose’s hand, pulled her down onto her knee. ‘I’ll take some of that action. So what are we picking on her for today?’

‘Piss off!’ Rose squirmed but Ricki was strong and held her fast.

‘I’m thinking she can do better than Jack’s Café, what do you think?’

‘I agree. Two thousand per cent.’

‘And that blond guy she likes gave her a kiss today!’ Sam added.

‘No way? Posh Pants?’

‘Enough!’ Rose managed to wriggle free. ‘I don’t need career or love advice from you two losers! Besides,’ she straightened her apron imperiously, ‘I’ve got plans.’

Sam and Ricki looked at each other. ‘Oooooooooooowwwww!’

‘Like what?’ Sam wanted to know.

‘They’re private,’ Rose sniffed, heading back to the kitchen to get Ricki’s coffee. ‘But rest assured, it doesn’t involve pouring you idiots cups of tea all day long!’

‘Good. Glad to hear it,’ Ricki called after her. She looked at Sam, shook her head. ‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah, that about sums it up,’ he agreed. ‘You OK?’