Holiday With The Best Man. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Grace was shocked by how different Hugh’s two best friends were. Tarquin had been sweet and funny, and she’d felt really comfortable with him; Roland was taciturn to the point of making Grace feel awkward and shy, the way she usually was with strangers.
It didn’t help that she’d felt a weird prickle of awareness when he’d shaken her hand. By any standards, Roland was good-looking, and the tailcoat, dark trousers, dark red waistcoat and matching cravat he wore emphasised it even more. His dark hair was brushed back from his forehead, and his slightly olive skin was clean-shaven. He could’ve been a model for a wedding suit company, and Grace wasn’t sure if she found that more attractive or intimidating.
Maybe if she treated this as work—if she was professional and sensible with him, the way she’d be with a client—they could get through this dance without it being a total disaster.
Not having a clue what to say to him, she went through the motions of dancing with him and really hoped that pinning a smile to her face would be enough to get her through the next song. Just as well she’d talked Bella into letting her wear flat shoes; if she’d worn heels, she would probably have tripped over Roland’s feet and made a complete and utter fool of herself.
Though it felt odd to be dancing with someone who was six inches taller than she was. Howard, her ex-fiancé, had been five foot eight, so she’d always worn flat shoes to make him feel less self-conscious about the fact that she was the same height as he was. Roland was broad-shouldered, where Howard had been slight. Being in his arms made Grace feel petite and feminine—something she wasn’t used to. She was sensible, no-nonsense, and way too tall to be treated as if she was fragile.
She noticed that Roland’s dark eyes were watchful. Why did he look so wary? Grace wondered.
Then she realised with a sinking heart just why she was feeling so awkward with him: because Roland was looking at her in exactly the same way that Howard’s mother always had. Rather than smiling back at her, his lips were thinned. It was pretty clear that he’d judged her and decided that she wasn’t quite good enough.
No wonder he wasn’t chatting to her, the way Tarquin had. The guy clearly disliked her—even though he’d never met her before.
Well, that was his problem. She’d be polite and dance with him to this song, fulfilling their duty as the chief bridesmaid and the best man. Then she’d make sure she stayed out of his way for the rest of the evening, spending her time with her parents and Hugh’s family.
And as for that weird prickle of awareness just now—well, that was just how weddings made everyone feel. Especially a glitzy wedding like this one, held in the grounds and ballroom of a manor house that had been in Hugh’s family for generations. Yet behind the glamour was a warm-hearted, loving family who adored Grace’s bubbly, slightly unconventional baby sister for who she was. And Grace had seen Roland hugging Bella earlier—with a proper smile on his face—so clearly he liked Grace’s sister.
But this taciturn, slightly forbidding man clearly wasn’t going to extend that warmth to Grace. And she absolutely refused to let it get to her. Why should his opinion of her matter? She didn’t know anything about him, other than that he was Hugh’s other best friend from school and was a sleeping partner in Hugh’s record label. But, even if Roland was single, he was the last man Grace would even consider dating. She wasn’t going to repeat her mistake with Howard. The next man she dated would be one who made her heart skip a beat and who’d sweep her off her feet. Someone who’d make her feel good about herself.
Which meant absolutely not Roland whatever-his-name-was.
Even if he was one of the most good-looking men she’d ever met.
Two days later
YET AGAIN GRACE missed Bella. Her little sister was the person she most wanted to call and talk to about her job interview today. But Bella was in San Francisco right now with Hugh and, even without having to take into account the eight-hour time difference, Grace had no intention of interrupting her baby sister’s honeymoon. She’d wait for Bella’s daily ‘postcard’ text, and casually mention in her reply that she thought the interview had gone OK. And hopefully later in the week she’d be able to report good news.
Please let her have got the job.
Temping was fine, but Grace knew that she functioned at her best with a solid structure in her life, and when she was able to plan more than just a couple of days ahead. The last couple of months, since she’d called off her own wedding, had changed her entire life. Not only had her relationship ended, she’d lost her job and her home because of it, too.
Bella was the bubbly one who coped just fine with change and seizing the day, always living life to the full; whereas Grace was more cautious, weighing things up and doing the sensible thing every single time. Even though calling off the wedding had been the right thing to do, it had caused her a huge amount of heartache and guilt. Bella had stood by her, as had their parents. But Grace hated the ensuing chaos.
At least she had a flat of her own again now. She’d been let down at the last minute with the flat she’d managed to find, but Bella as usual had been a bit scatty and forgotten to give her landlord her notice on time. And it had all worked out perfectly for both of them, because the landlord had agreed to let Grace take over the lease; she was just awaiting the paperwork. So that was another little bit of her life rebuilt.
Trying to push away the thought that she wasn’t adjusting terribly well to her new life so far, Grace opened the front door of the house that had been converted into three flats—and saw with horror that the hallway was an inch deep in water. Water that was coming from underneath her front door.
OK. Forget the panic and work with your common sense, the way you always do, she told herself. Turn off the water supply at the mains to stop any more water gushing out from wherever the leak is, turn off the electricity to avoid any problems there, run the taps to make sure the system drains fully, and then find out where the leak is coming from and call the landlord to organise a plumber.
Fortified now she had a plan to work to, Grace opened the flat’s front door to find water everywhere. The carpet was soaked through and she could see from the change in the colour of the material that the water was soaking its way up into the sofa, too. What a mess. She took a deep breath, took off her shoes, and put them on the kitchen table along with her handbag and briefcase so they’d be out of the way of the water.
Stopcock. Where would the stopcock be? The house had been converted into flats, so there was only a fifty-fifty chance that the stopcock would be inside her flat. But, to her relief, when she opened the cupboard under the sink in the hope that it was the most likely place to find the stopcock, the little wheel on the water pipe was clearly visible. She turned it off. Another switch dealt with the electricity supply, and when she went into the bathroom to turn on the taps to drain the system she could see the problem immediately: water was gushing through a burst pipe underneath the sink.
She grabbed the washing up bowl from the kitchen sink and put it there to catch the water that was still gushing from the burst pipe, then turned on the taps in the bath so the system would start to drain.
Those were the most important things. Now to call the landlord—and she really hoped that he’d be able to send an emergency plumber out to fix the pipe tonight. Though, even when the pipe was fixed and the water supply was back on, Grace knew that she was still going to have to find somewhere else to sleep tonight, because the flat was too badly flooded to be habitable. She’d also have to find somewhere to store all her stuff.
Although part of her wanted to burst into tears of sheer frustration and anger and misery, she knew that crying wasn’t going to solve anything. She needed to stick with the practical stuff. Once she’d sorted that out, she could start weeping. But absolutely not until then.
There was a note in Bella’s handwriting underneath a magnet on the door of the fridge, with a telephone number and