Page 37 of Never Date a Celebrity

“What? I know things.”

Huh. Piper was full of surprises. Imogen turned back to Niamh. “Did you like his stamp collection?” she asked innocently.

Niamh glared at her. “By page thirty-seven, no, Imogen. I wasn’t a fan.”

“You should have said you were in a hurry,” Piper said. “You’re too nice, I keep telling you. It’s why you always get stuck with Talkative Tim as well.”

“I know, but Connor’s such a sweet man, and he was so excited to show me.” Niamh sighed. “I’m soft, okay? But yes, we have our fancy meats and you both owe me for getting them.”

Imogen hugged her. “You’re brilliant. Neither of us will ever forget your sacrifice for the cause.”

Piper pumped her fist. “Thanks for taking one for the team, Niamhey. Although, to be fair, he probably wouldn’t want to show us his stamp collection anyway,” she teased her.

“I go in there most days and I haven’t been offered the stamp collection once,” Imogen said.

“Oh, shut it, you pair,” Niamh said, but there was definitely a smile threatening.

Imogen laughed. “How about you? Find what we were looking for?” she turned to ask Piper.

“Oh, I came through too. Take a look at these.” Piper grabbed her phone and turned it around. “So, for our standard-sized platters we have these ones.” She showed Imogen some long wooden boards with handles. The shapes were all similar, but each one slightly different. Hand-cut. All unique, according to the caption.

“I really like them. The sizes look perfect too.”

“I thought so,” Piper said. “And they can be personalised, so I designed a little Wishing Well logo to be printed on the bottom of all of them, and I’ve added a different quote to each board too.” She shrugged. “Just for fun. Irish sayings and that sort of thing. The tourists will love it.” It made sense. They weren’t far from a lot of the tourist areas, so if some folk did happen to stumble upon Ballyluck, they’d be ready. Imogen didn’t see why people wouldn’t want to visit Ballyluck. The clifftop views were incredible, there was a scenic walk down to the beach, and the hills sprawled for miles. It was like a postcard.

Niamh pointed at her. “Great idea. Gives us some originality.”

Piper beamed. “Thanks. I thought so too.” She scrolled again and turned her phone back to show them. “And for the jumbo platters, we’ve got some big old wooden shamrocks. Again, with our logo.”

“Oh my God, I love these,” Niamh said. “Yes, Pipes. You understood the assignment.”

“Smashed the assignment, more like,” Imogen gushed. She’d envisioned something simpler herself, but all Piper’s ideas were so much better.

“Good, because I already went ahead and ordered them. They’ll be delivered by the end of the week. And…” Piper paused while she looked for something else on her phone. “I thought we could have some seasonal décor scattered around the food. I’ve focussed on autumn for now, obviously. Look how cute these are.” She showed them some miniature pumpkins, and artificial leaves and twigs that Imogen and Niamh both agreed would look great.

“We’re all sorted then,” Niamh said excitedly, high-fiving both of them. “Operation Platters is a go.”

“What’s a go?” Down-it Debs asked as she approached—nothing stayed secret for long in Ballyluck, which was a good thing in this instance. But it was true. Friends or near-strangers—everyone liked to know one another’s business. Imogen hadn’t even heard Debs come in. Lovely woman, but she never failed to sink a full glass of wine in under five minutes. It was impressive, really.

“We’re starting food, Debs,” Niamh said. “The sort of thing that would go lovely with a nice glass of red. Hopefully, we can tempt you when we start serving next week.”

Debs looked intrigued by Niamh’s sales pitch—she hadn’t been the leading salesperson at Clover for so many years for nothing. “Well, you girls know how partial I am to a nice glass of red. Maybe I’ll have to have two from now on if there’s some lovely goodies to go with it.”

Imogen smiled because that was their hope, bigger orders. The interaction with Debs gave her a good feeling about their plan. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, a reminder of the other thing she had a good feeling about. The future was starting to look bright.

Was it Thursday yet?

“I feel like you’re never going to find the right time to be honest about us,” Amelia said, tears welling up in her eyes. “Not with him or me. Not even with yourself.”

Bridget paced, stressed out by the conversation. “I have been honest with you.”

Amelia shook her head quickly, blinking away the tears before they spilled. “You told me that you didn’t want me to date someone else. You never told me why.”

“Because you already know why,” Bridget declared with sudden passion, taking quick strides toward her. “Why do you need me to say it?”

“Because I do.” Amelia took a step toward her too. “I need to hear the words, or else I’ll keep torturing myself every night, asking myself if I’m making everything up.”

“And what is it that you think you’re making up, Scarlett?” Bridget fixed her with a fiery stare, daring her to answer. She lifted her chin. “What?”