Page 48 of Highland Getaway
‘Um .?.?.’
‘She cooks a mean pasta, too,’ he goes on.
‘And performs daring rescues on horseback,’ I put in, feeling like I might as well keep mentioning this, seeing as it’s probably the most impressive thing I’ll ever do.
‘And shows people her bum,’ shrieks Hannah, putting a quick end to the conversation.
‘Teeth, Hannah,’ says Hunter, tipping the last dregs of the wine into our glasses. ‘You’re in with me tonight; Rosie’s going to be taking your room. That’s if you’re sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in my bed, Rosie?’
He pauses, the wine bottle hovering above my glass as he looks at me questioningly.
‘And I’d take the couch?’ he clarifies, seeing the look on my face.
‘No, um, I’m sure I’ll be fine in Hannah’s room,’ I reply, my cheeks growing hot under his gaze.
‘Well, as long as you’re sure,’ he says with a shrug which suggests it doesn’t matter to him where I sleep; a fact that’s considerably more disappointing to me than it should be.
Fortunately for me, Hannah chooses this moment to provide a distraction by effusively bidding us both goodnight, and, by the time she’s safely tucked up in bed, I’m behaving more or less like a normal person again.
Well, by my standards, anyway.
‘Feeling a bit more relaxed now?’ Hunter asks, handing me my wine glass again. ‘Now that you know you’re not going to be stabbed in your sleep?’
‘I didn’tseriouslythink that would happen,’ I protest, even though that’s exactly what I thought. ‘I just got a bit spooked by it, that’s all. You don’t really expect to find a knife in your bed, do you? Especially not in a five-star hotel.’
‘No, that’s definitely four-star treatment,’ agrees Hunter. ‘I’d be leaving a strongly worded review if I were you. Don’t though – I’m begging you. I don’t think Dante would survive that.’
‘I still have him down as the main suspect,’ I tell him, sipping my wine. ‘It’s not normal to be as passionate about your job as he seems to be.’
‘You just think that because you hate yours,’ Hunter points out. ‘Some of us are quite happy with what we do, believe it or not.’
‘So, who doyouthink’s doing it, then?’ I ask. ‘It has to be someone. Even if you can explain away the other stuff, that .?.?. dirk .?.?. didn’t get itself into my turnip on its own, did it?’
‘Ach, I don’t know, Rosie,’ Hunter admits. ‘I’m still inclined to think it’s some kind of stupid prank that’s gone too far. Whoever it is probably doesn’t even know how much it’s getting to you.’
‘Don’t do that,’ I say quietly, staring into my glass. ‘Don’t try to minimise it. I hate that. I know you’re just trying to reassure me, but . . . I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘OK,’ he replies carefully, after a pause. ‘Am I allowed to ask why?’
‘My ex,’ I say, swirling the wine around in the glass. ‘Adam. He was always trying to tell me I was wrong about stuff. Always trying to play down my fears, or my worries.’
‘Rosie, I wasn’t .?.?.’ Hunter says softly. ‘I would never try to do that. But I’m sorry it came across that way. I really was just trying to make you feel better.’
‘I know,’ I tell him, flushing. ‘Sorry, I think I’ve probably had too much wine. I know you were just being nice.’
‘And you’re beingtoonice again, by apologising all the time,’ he points out. ‘Even when you have absolutely nothing to apologise for.’
‘Sor— um, OK. And thanks for saying that; I appreciate it.’
‘So, this Adam,’ he says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hands. ‘What other things do I have to hate him for?’
I laugh in spite of myself.
‘Oh, nothing, really,’ I reply. ‘Adam isn’t a bad guy. He just wasn’t therightguy, that’s all. He’s not worth hating.’
‘Nope, too nice again,’ Hunter cuts in. ‘Give me something to work with here, Rosie. At least tell me he hogged the remote all the time. Or squeezed the toothpaste in the middle.’
‘He was in a fairly committed relationship with the remote control,’ I admit. ‘Much more than he ever was with me.’
