You Can't Hurry Love

Chapter Eighteen

'Wow . . . just, wow. You're really good at this.'

Simon takes a step back to join me and we survey our hard work together. In less than an hour we had managed to transform the entire restaurant from a bland, soulless space into a cosy, winter wonderland and I have to say, we did good.

The empty table was now covered in a gorgeous red tartan cloth and down the centre ran a leftover wreath in which I'd placed tall gold candles and pretty little wooden ornaments to give it that rustic feel it was lacking before. And whilst I was hanging baubles on bits of string in the windows Simon had been busy wrapping the beams that ran along the ceiling in hundreds of lights he'd painstakingly untangled, giving the illusion of a sky of twinkling stars above us and the result was so breathtaking I'd had to stop and snap a few pictures so I could put them on our website.

The two of us had worked quietly and tirelessly and it was only when I'd found the box containing the bits of faux Christmas tree did Simon have to physically drag me away, citing that Lincoln would end up having a hernia if we built it and reluctantly, I agreed.

'Thanks!' I beam at him, and I feel so grateful that I'd had his help with this. I'd love to say that Angie had gotten over her little strop and joined in too, but she'd remained a silent witness from behind the bar where she'd been sullenly cutting fruit and stocking up the wine fridge. The only sounds coming from her direction were the occasional huff and mutters of, 'He's going to hate this' and 'I want no part of it.'

'At least we managed to get it done before Lincoln-'

'Before Lincoln what?' The man himself passes behind me and I let out a little yelp as his voice reverberates in my ear. I was unaware that he'd even re-entered the room and he looks over his shoulder to frown at me as he places the cash box in the till.

'Er, nothing.' I reply guardedly and spy Simon out of the corner of my eye darting off to open the front door, escaping before it all kicked off.

Outside I may look calm but inside I was buzzing, like a pent-up boxer ready to serve her first strike on her worthy opponent. You could say that's how Lincoln and I have been with each other since we met, two boxers circling each other in the ring, striking out at every given opportunity and I'm about to go from the underdog in this weird partnership to the champion, once and for all. Any second now Lincoln will look up and see what I've done to his beloved restaurant and I will floor him. The thought was oddly thrilling.

The cautious tone of my voice must have roused his suspicions because he looks up, instantly freezing on the spot when he sees what we did to the room. (And I'm not talking about a momentary pause either. I'm saying the guy literally froze solid.) The only thing moving was his hooded eyes as they roamed from side to side, his pupils constricting so much he was left with nothing but an ice-cold stare.

Ding, ding, ding!

In my mind, Lincoln was now laying on the floor and I was standing victorious over him to the raucous cheers of the crowd, holding my winner's belt high in the air.

'Who did this?' His voice was threatening when he finally speaks, like subdued thunder ready to erupt, and I see Angie looking smug behind him.

It was Simon's reaction that made my strength falter though. He looked worried and for one uncertain moment I think I may have overstepped the mark. I didn't want him to get into trouble, he needed this job. He has a wife and three babies to support, and I've just come in and put that in jeopardy before we've even had our first customer walk through the door.

'I did! It was all me,' I butt in quickly, before he could open his mouth.

At this Lincoln turns to me and I try not to wither under his glower, feeling the euphoria of my latest win starting to ebb away and the beginnings of hot tears form in my eyes, which I'm sure he notices.