“Hmm, a giant golden M. I’m not a hundred percent certain but I have a feeling that might be trademarked, somehow,” I mused.
“Oh, right. Bugger.” Stan shook his head.
“Such an ideas man,” quipped Toby, giving his mate a pat on the back. “Not just a pretty face.”
Stan worked in an impromptu series of muscle flexes.
Tess rolled her eyes as she closed her notepad, and turned to Ellie.
“You used to date him.” Tess laughed.
Ellie smiled as she chewed on her straw. “Hey, Stan, you never flexed your muscles for me, though,” she teased.
Toby reached out to grip Stan’s biceps. “What muscles?”
“Right! That’s it.” Stan grabbed Toby in a headlock, their stools screeching against the floorboards as they roughhoused.
Tess blew out a deep breath as she turned away from the wrestling match. “So, Ellie, you can organise the flyers for the working bee and barbecue; Chris, are you going to call up Eric’s mates and get them on board?”
Chris nodded. “I’ll also handle the stock, make sure we have plenty of stuff ready for the day and set up a few eskies in the beer garden.”
“Dad’s got an industrial pressure washer I’m going to grab tomorrow and start working on the front,” Toby added, hunched over, catching his breath from his battle with Stan.
“And Ringer’s going to be here with his ute – said he’d do a dump run for us,” Chris chucked in.
“Where is Ringer, anyway?” Ellie frowned.
“Right where we should be.” Toby eyed his watch. “We better go,” Toby announced before spinning Tess around on her swivel stool and placing his hands on the bar, caging her in. She squealed at the unexpectedness of it and playfully slapped at him, but her surprise was gone in an instant when he kissed her goodbye.
Chris looked on in distaste. “Ugh, nice to see you guys are as stomach churning as ever.”
“Shut up! I think they’re adorable,” I said.
Toby wrapped Tess in a bear hug and grinned at Chris and Stan. “See? She thinks we’re adorable.”
“I had forgotten you were headed to Sean’s tonight.” Tess did her best not to sound disappointed, but wasn’t quite pulling it off.
“You sure you don’t want to come?” Toby rubbed her upper arms.
“No, you go and have your male bonding thing. Thank him for the invite, though.”
“And from me,” Ellie added. “Tell him we’ll come out soon.”
I glared into the ice bucket as they talked – my effort not to react at the mention of Sean’s name and the fact that he was having some sort of gathering and had failed to mention it to me.
Not that I cared; it would be a nice change not to have him darken my doorstep. The sheer amount of useful discussion we had got through tonight had been massively productive without his sarcastic quips and smart-arse innuendoes. In fact, it was bloody blissful. I smashed the ice with my spoon.
I stopped to see Stan eyeing me, a speculative look on his face.
“All right,” he said, slowly turning his attention from me. “Better get this show on the road.”
I gathered up their empty pot glasses, then waited as Chris skulled the last of his and passed it to me.
“You right to lock up?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t know how late we’ll be,” he added.
“That’s all right, I’m not your keeper.” I couldn’t help but throw in that little jab.
He frowned. “I’m not yours, either.”
“Really?”
“I’m just looking out for you.”
“Chris, I swear, if you start giving me a talk about ‘the birds and the bees,’ I may be forced to stab you with this spoon.”
Chris’s mouth gaped. Is he blushing? I tried to stop my lips from pursing at the utter amusement of rendering Chris speechless.
“Don’t be stupid. Jesus, Amy.” He looked around him, making sure the others hadn’t overheard.
I loved embarrassing him. “Chris?”
“What?” he bit out.
“Just go!”
Chapter Twenty-Five
It became disturbingly apparent that I didn’t have one lethal weapon in my bedroom. Not one.
I knew this was a fact when I was woken at four a.m. by the slamming of the back hall door and the sound of footsteps. The sound of footsteps alone wouldn’t normally have evoked fear in me, but no one used that door – no one! Chris hadn’t returned from Sean’s because he had already drunk-dialled me at two a.m. saying he was crashing on Sean’s couch for the night.
I scrambled out of bed, my heart thumping, my pulse racing, as I searched for a weapon by the light of my mobile phone. If this was Chris’s idea of a joke I would kill him. I couldn’t imagine anyone even thinking of coming up the hotel’s back staircase. You had to access it from the beer garden and we’d roped that off – no one ever used it. Before I could wrench the door open to potentially yell at Chris, a coldness swept over me. I wondered if maybe Matt had used the back door?