Surprisingly, when faced with an inebriated teenager wreaking havoc at her playhouse, Carolyn hadn’t called the police. Instead, she’d arranged for a taxi to take her home. Jodi hadn’t appreciated Carolyn’s kindness at the time, but she certainly did now.
Carolyn opened the French doors and waved at the man up the ladder. ‘Eddie, darling? Can I introduce you to someone?’
The man cupped his ear, indicating he couldn’t hear. He climbed down, and walked over. Actually, walked was the wrong word. It was more of a meander, slow and controlled, like a cowboy in an old film. He was wearing an Indiana Jones hat, which he tipped upon reaching them. His overcoat was dripping wet.
‘This is Jodi…’ Carolyn’s face scrunched up in concentration as she clicked her fingers, trying to remember her new worker’s surname.
Jodi helped her out. ‘Simmons.’
‘Simmons, that’s it. Jodi Simmons.’ Carolyn put her hand on the man’s arm. ‘This is the wonderful Eddie Moriantez. He’s been here for years and looks after the grounds and does a bit of maintenance.’ She turned to Jodi. ‘He used to be in the navy,’ she added, her pretence of a whisper failing.
‘Oh…right. Great to meet you.’ Jodi held out her injured hand and braced herself.
Thankfully, the man declined. ‘I won’t, if that’s okay. I’m filthy.’ He held up his hands, which looked clean enough. She suspected he’d noticed her injury and was letting her off the hook. ‘Muddy work.’ He smiled, his expression both relaxed and amused. She decided Eddie was going to be a lot easier to get along with than Vivienne.
Carolyn immediately turned back to Eddie. ‘We won’t keep you,’ she said, already shutting the doors. ‘I’m sure you’re eager to get back to trimming the bushes. There really isn’t anything worse than an untidy bush.’
Jodi and Eddie exchanged an amused look. ‘I best get back to it then,’ he said, tipping his hat. ‘Can’t have an untidy bush.’ He ambled off, chuckling.
Yep, she was going to like Eddie.
‘Kitchen next.’ Carolyn steered her towards a set of swing doors to their right.
The kitchen was cold and uninviting with a severe lack of modern appliances. A huge iron range with various copper pots hanging down from the surround dominated the far wall. An island filled the middle of the room with a rack above. She half expected to see a selection of game hanging from it, like in an episode of Downton Abbey, but there wasn’t any. She couldn’t see a dishwasher, but there was a microwave and a coffee machine next to the deep ceramic sink. Cooking in there wouldn’t be particularly easy, she imagined.
A man was standing at the island chopping. He didn’t look up when they approached.
‘Petrit, I’d like you to meet my new assistant, Jodi…’ More clicking of the fingers.
‘Simmons.’
‘Simmons!’ Carolyn laughed. ‘Why do I keep forgetting?’
Jodi felt it wouldn’t be prudent to answer.
‘Petrit Manaj is our resident chef. He looks after the café.’ Her voice lowered. ‘He’s from Romania.’
Jodi was starting to realise that everyone who worked at the playhouse had a tagline. She wondered what hers would be? This is Jodi…she has a criminal record. God, she hoped not. She’d just have to hope Carolyn’s poor memory extended to Jodi’s antics as a teenager.
The man carried on chopping, the large knife slicing down on the board as if he was trying to obliterate the coriander.
‘Petrit, stop a moment, will you. My head’s banging.’ Carolyn covered her ears.
The chef dropped the knife, making it clatter. He turned and gave Jodi what could only be described as a death stare. He had deep-set eyes that burned beneath a thick unibrow. His face was angular and covered in unkempt stubble. But it was the disdain in his expression that gave most cause for alarm. Jodi recognised the look. It was the same look the lad from the restaurant had given her the other night, the one who’d shouted abuse in the street.
Refusing to be intimidated, she held out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ She held eye contact, daring him to refuse her offer of introduction.
Her resolve weakened slightly when he gripped her hand, making her flinch. ‘You contaminate my kitchen,’ he said, marching over to the sink and washing his hands.
She wondered if he’d still have washed his hands if there’d been no blood? Sadly, she suspected he probably would have.
Carolyn frowned. ‘Are you bleeding? How on earth did you do that? We need to get that sorted.’
Jodi was sensing a pattern.
Carolyn gave Petrit a friendly wave and then ushered Jodi out of the kitchen. ‘He makes the most delicious goulash,’ she said, hooking her arm through Jodi’s. ‘Now, I think that’s everyone.’ And then she stopped. ‘No…I’ve forgotten someone. Who have I forgotten?’ She looked at Jodi, waiting for an answer.
Jodi wondered if this was some kind of initiation test. If it was, then she suspected she was failing.
‘Leon!’ Carolyn’s exuberance almost knocked Jodi off her feet. ‘Of course, silly me. Our gorgeous bar manager.’
Supporting a swaying Carolyn, Jodi was led through to the adjacent bar area, which was basically a narrow counter with a few tables overlooking the gardens. Jodi’s hand was stinging and she wished she could tidy herself up, but her boss wasn’t done with the introductions. She’d just have to hope that the bar manager was politer than Petrit…
And then she saw him.
The impact was hard and fast. She hoped her sudden intake of breath hadn’t been audible.
‘And that’s Leon.’ Carolyn sighed. ‘I told you he was gorgeous.’
Gorgeous didn’t come close.
The guy behind the bar looked to be of similar age to Jodi and with similar colouring. His hair was shaved short, with neatly trimmed facial hair that made his eyes stand out. And boy, did they stand out. They looked almost green…no, light brown…or maybe hazel? It was difficult to tell in the dismal light with the rain pounding against the windows. Whatever the colour, they bored right into her, pinning her to the spot, igniting such heat she half-expected steam to start rising from her damp coat.
And then he smiled.
Boggin’ hell. It was the kind of smile that could stop traffic.
‘Hi,’ he said, leaning on the bar, the outline of his toned arms visible beneath his casual shirt. ‘Leon Malone.’
‘Jodi Simmons.’ Her voice sounded calm. She wasn’t sure how – her heart was hammering away.
His gaze travelled down to her hand. ‘Do you need something for that?’
Observant too.
‘It’s only a scrape. Nothing major.’
He handed her a paper napkin. ‘Looks painful.’ His hand brushed hers and she could almost feel the electricity firing up her arm. Bloody hell.
Get a grip, she told herself. She was here to gain work experience, not flirt with the staff. Swooning after a fit bloke would be a distraction she didn’t need. She hadn’t spent the last seven years turning her life around to be derailed on her first day.
‘There’s a first-aid box in the office. You’ll find plasters and antiseptic cream inside. Let me know if there isn’t. The contents don’t always get replaced,’ he said, glancing at Carolyn, who didn’t seem to notice.
Jodi