Page 5 of All For You

He pointed his paring knife toward Colin Vicar, a pretentious classics university lecturer who’d pulled up in his Mini Cooper and, within seconds, was boring everyone about his close acquaintance with his neighbor, Lady Catherine de Bourg, who was renowned in the village to be a dreadful old thing, mean and horribly snobby. Colin had immediately zeroed in on a pretty woman called Nala, and was nattering away at her relentlessly as they twirled. Poor Nala.

Trystan pointed his knife to the left. “But what about that hot, beardy farmer-type who turned up with your cousin Emma? He seems kind of earnest—asked a million questions about the provenance of the vegetables—thank goodness everything was plucked from farms an electric bike’s pedal away from here. Bit staid, but nice and dependable, and I suspect he’s hiding a great bod under that huge plaid shirt and serviceable pants. The muddy farm boots he left at the door are on the larger size.” He waggled his eyebrows to make his point.

I chuckled and playfully slapped his arm. “You’re terrible. His name is Knightley. He’s the local vet and is going to lead us in the animal training Sunday morning. He’s Emma’s oldestfriend…or her father’s best friend—I can never work out which—but he’s definitely at their house a lot. Staid? A little. He’s an old soul, even though he can’t be more than six years older than her. I’ve always suspected he had a thing for Emma, so I wouldn’t go there.”

“And yet they’ve been bickering constantly since they turned up.”

“That’s them, all right. Night and day. Knightley will treat any animal who turns up to his door, would never turn away anyone who can’t pay, and volunteers at farms in low-income countries. He disapproves of all Emma’s frippery and finery and flitting around. And in return, she teases him relentlessly about being old-man boring.”

“I rest my case. Sounds like they are primed for a sort of friends-to-lovers transition, if I know my tropes—and I do. Mr. Finelooking Grumpyface is the only one left.”

“I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”

His eyes lingered on Darcy again. “I don’t blame you, sweets. All that nice packaging is totally wasted.”

“Nice packaging?” I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Ugh.”

“Agreed. Broad shoulders, jet-black hair, blue eyes, square jaw. Yuck.”

I caught Trystan’s twinkly gaze and, my sense of humor restored, we both cracked up.

A bell rang out through the kitchen. Penny Balfour.

Mum turned off the music. I checked the old walnut standing clock—6:30 p.m. According to the schedule left on our beds, it was now meet-and-greet activities with champers and nibbles. Trystan moved toward the fridge and pulled out some tiny appetizers on a silver platter, two bottles of champagne, and chilled glasses from the freezer, and then filled a bucket of ice.

In the dancing area, Monty hopped onto a chair, which wobbled disturbingly. He made a trumpet sound, both hands around his mouth, which caused the chair to jiggle even more.

“And now for our next icebreaker,” he announced. “With the help of something a little soft and a little pliable. Maybe a reminder to us all to be soft and pliable this weekend.” He chuckled, clearly delighted with himself.

With a flourish, he pulled his hand from behind his back and revealed…a roll of toilet paper.

Inexplicably, my focus was drawn to Darcy for his reaction.

“Jesus Christ,” he spat out.

CHAPTER 4

Darcy

Iknew already Monty and Penny were old-school posh and, too often, that went with adolescent toilet humor like fart cushions, dirty ditties embroidered on wall hangings, and singing fish in the loo—all of which I was sure they’d done before their daughter Tabitha remodeled this place. And so, this toilet roll being the key to our meet-and-greet should not have been a surprise.

But I was not excited to see where this would lead.

Penny took the roll of toilet paper from her husband and held it aloft as the chef, wearing an apron embroidered with the words “Trystan’s Good Tuck,” so I assumed he was the eponymous Trystan, entered the area with a plate of tiny appetizers, followed by Lizzy offering glasses of champagne on a tray. I took a glass and gave her what I hoped was a friendly nod. I did feel guilty about her storming off after my unfortunate comment. Also, I now had a large camera zooming in on me. But she pointedly concentrated on the roll of toilet paper. Shit.

I guess a small nod didn’t undo my rudeness.

“Come up and take as many squares as you need.” Penny gave an innocent, wide-eyed look.

“For what?” Nala asked, appalled.

“You’ll find out. But don’t worry, it’s not for the usual purpose.”

“I certainly hope not,” Colin Vicar huffed, and for once, I was in agreement.

Somewhat placated, everyone filed up, being good sports, I supposed, and laughing about the assignment. Still, that didn’t make me want to join in, and I stayed glowering in my corner.

“Darcy?” Monty pointed to the toilet roll.