Pitch Imperfect(97)

“Don’t mind me. Ash has conversations with her finger and I give voice to my inner nutcase.”

Viking came up and grinned. “Crazy woman. She teaches Saffron this finger talk.”

Damien looked amused, and then his gaze landed on the hand Anjuli was rubbing against her midriff. “I hope it’s not the curry I nuked for us.”

No, but she felt as if she were being nuked, body cold but insides sizzling, unstoppable heat radiating through her at the prospect of seeing Rob. She had hoped it was him on her doorstep last night instead of Damien and been crushed that it wasn’t. Ashamed of herself, she squeezed Damien’s hand. “I really appreciate your coming over to check on Reiver. Thank goodness his smoke inhalation wasn’t as bad as mine. Sorry it was such an early night.”

“No need to apologise. I had a date, remember? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be if Rob ever shows up for this damn debate. I’m going to grab him as soon as he gets here.”

Damien grinned. “Rough, but I like it. May the course of true love flow like the Guinness down my throat.”

“Black and bitter?”

“Slow and smooth, with a heady froth.”

“Oh, God.”

Rob walked in a few minutes later. In black trousers and a light grey shirt he looked casual and sexy at the same time. He must have been outdoors recently because his skin was more tanned, making his eyes look lighter. He caught her gaze, held it for a split second, and looked away. Anjuli’s stomach twisted. How could he convey so much in a single look? Repudiation in a glance. She blinked at the jarring noise in her ears, wanting to swat it away like a pesky fly. It was Sarah Brunel, come up from a table of reporters the second she’d seen Rob. Anjuli was glad to see him merely return her greeting with a polite nod and move to Viking’s end of the bar.

Pint of lager, mate, she lip read, staring at his mouth. Two dimples either side deepened as he greeted the pretty young woman who’d recently set up a glassblowing studio across the square and chatted with her while he waited for his drink. Was Rob attracted to petite, porcelain-skinned blondes these days? What was her name again...? Didn’t matter, she could keep her thoughts of blowing anything other than glass out of her head or else. Frothy bitter overflowed the pint glass and spilled onto her hand, and she grabbed a bar towel to clean it off.

Talk to me. Tell me why you haven’t phoned me back or come to see me. Tell me you still love me and it isn’t too late. She served a customer, berating herself for not grabbing Rob as she’d intended. So what if he was surrounded by other people in a crowded pub? Any moment now she would forget her inhibitions and throw her arms around his neck—if he looked at her with the tiniest bit of warmth. Then she would take him into the back office and tell him how she felt.

Ignoring the customer in front of her, Anjuli went to the other end of the bar and stood next to Viking. Wordlessly, he swapped bar ends with her. Why did people think he was stupid just because he was big and clunky and struggled with English?

“Hi Rob,” she said.

He went as wooden as the bar he tapped his fingers on. “Anjuli.”

The blonde looked between them. “Nice seeing you again,” she said to Rob and melted into the crowd.

Anjuli stopped filling his pint glass. “Are you dating the glassblower?”

Oh God, what possessed her?

Rob fixed her with a flat stare. “I’m no’ in the habit of running from one woman to the next.”

“Right. Of course not. Listen...” God, this was worse than treading barefoot over fire and she should know. “I can take a break for a few minutes if you’ll come to the office with me. I’d like to talk to you.”

“There’s no need until you accept my offer on Castle Manor.”

How could he be so exasperating? “The manor isn’t what I want to talk to you about. I know I owe you a lot of money and, well, that’s not important. I mean, of course it’s important and I am going to pay you back soon. Not sure exactly how yet but I will, and—”

Rob took out a twenty pound note from his wallet. “Make an appointment with Mrs. P. if you want to talk over payment plans or selling the house.” He looked at the platform. “It’s my turn to go up soon.”

Anjuli wanted to shake him. “It’s not money or the house or the storm brewing in Heaverlock I want to talk to you about,” she said, frustration making her voice sharp.

Rob’s look was steady, unfathomable. “I’m listening.”

She lowered her voice. “I’d like to explain what happened that day, with Damien, and tell you how I was feeling.”