Page 1 of Burning Embers
Chapter One
RACHEL
The bar is buzzing tonight; apparently, Thursday is the new Friday. I glance at my Rolex and want to swear. He’s late and by more than what’s socially acceptable. Why did I agree to this? I blow out a breath, trying not to look at my watch again. Because I miss intimacy, miss being cherished. And I’m getting bored with my vibrator.
Olly eyes me suspiciously from behind the bar, and I can’t help but exaggerate an eye roll back so he knows thatIknow he’s been watching me. I would be embarrassed at how long I’ve been waiting for my date if I thought the cocky bartender cared. He probably finds me pathetic. Though we share mutual friends, and he’s nothing but amicable, I’ve always gotten this…vibe from Olly. Like he’d prefer usnotrun in the same circles.
I want to refuse to admit that I’ve been stood up…again, but I have. I’m sick of it, and I know I’m too stubborn for my own good to get up and leave right now. Picking at the corner of a cardboard coaster, I continue to make a mental list of who to avoid in the messed-up dating pool.
Men who are married.
Men in relationships.
Men whose mum still panders to their every need.
Men who are still in love with their ex.
Men who run when they find out I’m a mother.
I break off from my list when I sense his presence. We barely talk, and yet I’ve always felt him. Olly, who is carefree with everyone else, isn’t like that with me. He’s always kept me at an arm’s length. I’ve seen him flirt with other patrons…even my friends, Felicity and Sophie—and surprisingly once even Simon—but never me.
“Been stood up?” he asks, not even attempting to sugar coat it.
“Oliver,” I reply. His name drips off my tongue with a trace of venom. Truth is, I don’t even know if he’s an Oliver; he could be just Olly, but any excuse to get under his skin… I let out a heavy sigh before turning my face up to meet his eyes. Blue-violet orbs stare back. And for a split second, I’m ensnared, forgetting what he just said. Does he manage to do this to all the girls?
“You okay?” he asks, his gaze darting over my face.
I look away and concentrate on the perspiration as it works its way down my almost empty glass of soda. “I’m fine, thank you, Oliver. Just fine,” I lie.
He hesitates, ready to rebut my comment no doubt, but surprises me when he doesn’t. “Well, you know where I am if you need me.”
He walks away, leaving an earthy scent of sandalwood in his wake that has me wanting to trail after him. This only fuels my irritation with him, my no-show date, and every male currently on the planet. I’ll wait a little longer, and then I’m out of here.
OLLY
Rachel’s been sitting there for the best part of forty-five minutes, and I feel sorry for her—almost. I thought she would’ve given up on waiting by now, but she appears to have been more irritated by my intrusion when, like a fool, I called her out on it. I never meant to embarrass her, but it just kind of slipped out.
I pause while mixing a mocktail when someone arrives, tapping her on the shoulder. She grins, but it’s guarded as the guy leans down and kisses her cheek before he sits opposite.
Her lips move, but I can’t read what she’s saying. I slide the cocktail glass to the patron and smile as I pass her change. My eyes dart back to Rachel to see she’s now up and walking towards me, purse in hand.
She looks around the bar for the other servers, but I’m the only one free. Resigned, she leans on her elbows, ash blonde locks falling over her shoulder, teasing the wooden surface below. She clears her throat. “Can I get a bourbon and another soda water with lime please?” she asks.
I quirk my eyebrows but nod. He couldn’t even get her a drink after keeping her waiting? She pulls out her card and fiddles with it while I prepare the drinks. I slide them over in front of her and enter the amount owed into the card reader. She taps her card, the machine taking its time, thinking, before finally delivering the bad news. Her eyes glance to the reader and back to the card in her hand. Sighing, she digs through her purse for another. It’s declined, too.
“Fuck,” she curses under her breath, cheeks glowing red.
Something shifts in my gut. “I got this,” I say, but she leans away, shaking her head. It’s not hard to see when she pulls a twenty-pound note from her purse that it’s the only money she has in there.
“I insist,” I say, then call out to Mavis, “What happens when we serve our hundredth patron of the night, Mave?”
She smirks, her eyes dancing between Rachel and me. “They get their round on the house,” she hollers back.
I turn back to Rachel and wink. An almost inaudible gasp escapes her plump lips, and I’m hit with the reminder that I’ve never flirted with her before. The soft scent of raspberries slithers along my senses, and between that sexy sound and the smell of fresh summer, I’m not sure which one is hotter.
Her eyes dart to her purse where she busies herself organising, placing everything back in its place. Just on the inside, staring up at me, is a picture of a toothless Molly-Mae, her daughter. My heart clenches. Lottie was around the same age the last time I saw her.
“I’ll bring them over,” I say, averting my eyes.
