Page 52 of Outlier

“I didn’t want toevisceratethem,” Vicky said through a frown. “You should have squeezed my wrist.”

“What does the wrist squeeze do?” I asked. “I’ve seen you do that to Vicky before when…” I trailed off as I realised what I was saying.

“When I was hyperfocused on you,” Vicky supplied.

Ollie choked on his wine.

“It meansstop. Either stop what I’m doing, stop talking, or stop focusing on something I… shouldn’t be.”

“Stop talking?” I said in surprise. “Why would anyone want you to stop talking?”

Vicky turned to me. “Mike, you must have noticed. When I get going on a subject, I can be… intense. Remember how long Italked about the danger the UK’s hedgerows are under the other night?”

“So what?” I said with a frown. “You always say interesting stuff. I don’t think anyone should be cutting you off.”

I caught Lottie’s eye across the table. She was beaming at me.

“You’ll do,” she said decisively.

Chapter 19

Good girl

Vicky

Mike’s vanwouldn’t start. Twice now, he’d turned the key in the ignition, and the engine had spluttered then died. His Land Rover, whilst ancient and mud-splattered, did seem to be somewhat reliable, but the van he used for his deliveries was another matter.

“You need a new vehicle,” I told him.

“Aware of that, love,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Your furniture,” I started, my voice rising as I felt so strongly about this. “All of it, every single piece, is a work of art. You should have appropriate transportation for it.”

Mike froze, then he turned to look at me, his expression intense. His hand left the steering wheel to reach up to my face, pausing so I had time to nod my agreement.

He swept the hair that had escaped my tight bun and fallen in my eyes behind my ear, cupped my jaw, and then gave me a brief, hard kiss before turning back to his task.

“Third time’s the charm,” he said through a grin as the old van roared to life.

“It shouldn’t take three attempts for the van to start,” I told him. “I am not a mechanic, but I do have a basic understanding of?—”

“I’ll replace the old girl when I have the money,” he interrupted. “I’ve just expanded the workshop. Had to sink all the capital into that for the moment.”

“I could?—”

“No,” he cut me off very decisively.

“Is this a male pride thing?”

“Partly, but also, didn’t I just hear you tell one of your best friends that you thought the only reason she spent time with you was because of what you did for her? Do you think I want you believing that aboutme, even for a second?”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say to that. In my experience, if I offered money, it was accepted.

I’d funded my mother and my half-sister for years, and they didn’t even pretend to like me. I’d never had someone decline my money in case it made me doubt their motives.

I was still going over what had happened tonight. As I ran Lottie’s words over and over in my head I felt something start to unfurl in my chest that I hadn’t really even realised was twisted before.

“I wish we could go to the cabin,” I said as we pulled up outside my house. My voice sounded about as dejected as I felt about the prospect of going into my empty London home. “I don’t suppose we have reached the magic number yet, have we?” I asked Mike hopefully.