Page 34 of Merry & Bright

Mark rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh for good measure, but he put the mixer gun down and turned, bending over to fetch bottled Coke and Schweppes tonic out of the fridge under the bar.

Wow...The barman’s arse was fantastic and beautifully shown off by faded, very worn jeans that looked as soft as butter. A chuckle in Sam’s ear sent goose bumps down his neck, and he turned his head to find Nick leaning in close, one dark brow lifted.

“He’s a bad-tempered bastard,” Nick murmured, “but he has his good points.”

Sam couldn’t suppress a gasp of laughter at that, and when Mark turned back to face them, he looked suspicious, eyeing them both narrowly while he topped off the glasses.

“Well, I’d better go and deliver these,” Sam said once he’d paid and Mark had stomped off to serve his next customer. “It was nice talking to you, Nick.”

That wasn’t strictly true. He could have done without hearing Nick’s revelation that Mike had shared his concerns regarding Sam with him. But that was a matter he could fret about later in the privacy of his own flat. He had all weekend to brood over his job woes. That was how he spent most of his weekends these days after all.

It seemed, however, that Nick wasn’t going to let him slink away.

“You can’t carry all those,” he said, pointing at the drinks on the bar. “C’mon. I’ll help you.” He tucked his beer bottle in the crook of his elbow and lifted the two vodka Cokes, leaving the G&Ts to Sam.

“Lead the way,” he said.

They wove their way back through the crowd, depositing one G&T with Monica before heading for Penny and Trish’s group.

Penny had retrieved her plastic mistletoe and was assaulting Paul the Cashier when they found them. Nick handed out the vodka Cokes and said a round of hellos, complete with hugs and Christmas kisses, while Sam looked on feeling like a spare part. Eventually, Nick turned back to Sam.

“Can we... have a word?” he said quietly. “In private?”

Sam wanted to say no. He didn’t want to talk about that awkward moment at the bar—and he was sure that was what this was about—but Nick had already started edging his way through the crowd, and somehow Sam found himself following him to the quieter side of the pub, where the music was a bit less deafening.

As soon as they were alone, Nick launched into an apology.

“Sam, I’m so sorry about what I said before. About Mike. It wasn’t how it sounded.” His brown eyes pleaded for understanding.

Sam averted his gaze, looking down at his drink. “Can we not talk about it? As you can imagine, I’m not exactly delighted to hear my boss was discussing his concerns about my performance at work with you.”

“He wasn’t, honestly. Not like that.” Nick ran a hand through his mop of dark hair and sighed. “Look, Mike only spoke to me because he was worried you were going to chuck the towel in—”

Sam gave a harsh laugh. “Wow, I can see this isn’tat alllike I thought!”

“He was worried about you. He didn’t want you to leave, okay? Neither did I.”

“I get it. You and Mike were worried about me. Lucky me, to attract so much personal concern.”

Nick frowned and his jaw firmed. “Look, Iamsorry about blurting that stuff out earlier, but I’m not going apologise for being concerned about you. You were struggling for a while there, and we both know it. Mike’s not an idiot. When he saw what was going on, he wanted to help you. That’s why he spoke to me.”

Anger and humiliation flooded Sam. He knew what Nick said was true, even as he hated the guy for saying it.

“Sam—” Nick rubbed at the back of his neck “Please don’t look like that.”

“Like what? I can’t be pissed off?” Sam bit out. “You know, I may not have lived up to Mike’s expectations, but it’s not as if my own haven’t taken a beating. I didn’t plan to end up here. I trained in the City. I wanted to stay there. I didn’t expect to move out of London, never mind to a tiny firm in a Lancashire market town, working for a bunch of bloody yokels!”

The apologetic look in Nick’s eyes faded. “I see,” he said. “Not quite the client base you’re used to?”

“No,” Sam retorted hotly, even as regret began to set in over his hasty words.

“No more multimillion-pound cases?” Nick added, his expression distinctly cooler. “How very disappointing for you.”

Sam swallowed and looked away. He felt like a prick. Nick probably thought he looked down on M&H’s clients, but the clients weren’t the problem—Sam was.

The hours at Hendrick Blackstone had been long, and the work had been hard, but he’d never had to think about client budgets or prepare a case based on how much money was available. He’d never had to sit opposite a client and just give them advice, then and there, when they asked for it. But he had to do that now, every day.

“It must’ve been such a comedown for you,” Nick went on, “working for normal people.”