It’s done now. Out of my system.
Just one night.
That’s all it was. One wild night letting my hair down and now I can focus on why I’m here. To get a job and save up so that I can still attend university in the autumn.
If I have to go back to my hometown it will kill me. I can’t be around my father anymore, he’s just too toxic. And when he’sburned through my savings – if he hasn’t already – he’ll only have his fists left to fall back on. I no longer want to be his target practice.
With that thought, and no phone to check the time, I hurry from the beach hut and make my way back towards the slipway. The beach is far from deserted, with early morning dog walkers, swimmers and surfers. There’s a scent of fresh morning air mixed with the lingering trace of last night’s party, but the memory of Finn still clings to the place, louder in my head than anything else. There’s no evidence that a party even took place last night – besides me in a man’s shirt doing a walk of shame.
Thankfully I don’t bump into Aisling on my way back to my grandmother’s house, though I do receive a raised eyebrow and a smirk from the hot guy next door as I walk up the driveway. He’s shirtless again and it’s a hell of a view this fine morning. There’s something effortlessly dominant about the way he carries himself, and I hate that I notice it at all.
I shouldn’t.
But I do.
I say nothing. I don’t even flick him the bird, even though I really really want to.
Once I’m inside the house, I locate my phone, glad that I left it at home after my midnight swim, and see a whole heap of messages from Aisling. When I notice the time, panic flares inside me. Shit! She’ll just have to wait. It’s already eight thirty and my interview is at nine.
I race upstairs for the world’s fastest shower, roughly drying off and wringing the worst of the water from my hair. When it’s no longer dripping, I carefully comb through the tangles and then tie it back in a neat fishtail braid. I brush my teeth and face, apply sunscreen and then try to decide what to wear.
I settle on black trousers, black trainers which look smart, and a bright blue shirt which makes my eyes pop. I can stillfeel his scent clinging to me, a reminder of last night. It lingers stubbornly, like last night refusing to let go no matter how much I scrub. I’m not one of those people who can wear head to toe black, or even all dark colours, without looking washed out and ill.
Checking the bedside clock, I realise I have just enough time to grab an apple to eat on my way to the restaurant, so I run downstairs, snatch one from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, and then head out.
Hot guy next door is still outside, watering the plants or something by the looks of it, and he does a double take when he sees me fresh faced and heading out again. I feel the weight of his gaze on me, and for a split second, I wonder if he can smell Finn’s scent on me too.
“Morning!” I call, delighting in the way his jaw drops.
He grunts in response.
I refuse to let it get to me. Today is going to be a great day, I can feel it. I’m going to smash this interview, get the job, and finally start repairing the damage that my dad did. I just know it.
I walk towards the restaurant with a pep in my step, my nerves buzzing with anticipation, confidence and adrenaline tangled together as I walk. I take a steadying breath before going inside, forcing myself to focus and calm down.
As I near the door, an older gentleman with silver streaks in his hair and wearing a smart suit greets me with a welcoming smile, his aftershave faint beneath the clean scent of his suit, grounding and unexpectedly reassuring.
“Good morning, miss. You must be here for the interview,” he says, holding the door open for me. “I’m Pete.”
I thank him, my heart skipping a beat at his proximity, and step inside, feeling my nerves kick in as I make my way up the stairs to the restaurant and over towards the host stand.
A woman with bright blonde hair greets me with a friendly smile, her perfume sharp and floral.
“Hi, you must be Lani,” she says, checking her clipboard. “I’m Alison Harper, the deputy manager. We’re so glad you could make it. Your interview will be with me and Pete, the manager, who I believe you just met. He’ll be along shortly, he just needs to grab something from downstairs. Our head chef would normally also interview new recruits, but he’s unavailable. We have his approval to hire today though, if we think you’re the right fit. So follow me, please.”
I follow Alison through the bustling kitchen, the smell of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon making my stomach grumble. There’s something warm and reassuring about her presence that instantly puts me at ease.
We make our way to a small office near the back of the restaurant, killing the time with small talk about the season, the beach and the weather.
Pete joins us a couple of minutes later. He must be theOld PeteAisling mentioned, but even though he’s clearly in his mid to late fifties, I wouldn’t exactly call himold. There’s something calming about him, the kind that makes you feel like you’re in capable hands. He extends his hand towards me with a warm smile. There’s something solid and grounding about him – like he’s the sort of person who knows exactly what he’s doing – and I have to consciously straighten my posture, reminding myself to stay focused.
“Lani, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things about you from Doris,” he says, his voice carrying a hint of familiarity. “Please, have a seat.”
I settle into the chair across from Pete, feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves. This job means so much to me, not only as an opportunity to prove myself but also as a chance to break free from the mistakes of my past – namely keeping my moneyanywhere my father could find it. A flicker of anxiety passes through me, but I push it aside, focusing on the task at hand.
Pete leans back in his chair, his alpha scent growing stronger as he regards me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. “So, Lani, tell us a bit about yourself. What experiences and skills do you have that make you a good fit for our restaurant?”
I take a deep breath, channelling my determination. “Well, I’ve always had a passion for the culinary arts. With no mother around from the age of six, I grew up cooking meals at home and I had to learn fast if we wanted to survive because cooking was not my father’s forté. Once I was a teenager I got a job at our local pub as a waitress and sometimes worked as a stand-in sous chef. I’ve been working there ever since and have only recently left because of going to university after the summer and coming here to stay at my grandmother’s place.”