Page 59 of Pretty Mess

“You tripped over your shorts trying to get into bed earlier.”

I wag my finger. “That was eagerness. Not my spatial ability.”

“I’ll commit that to memory.” He taps something on his phone. “Come along. Robert is waiting.”

I follow him out of the flat sneaking a glance at the lounge as I pass by. I should be revising for my finals now. My files are sitting neatly on the dining table in there waiting for me. I give a mental shrug. They can wait. I’d rather be going on Mac’s mystery tour.

“And does Robert know where we’re going?” I ask as the lift doors open and we step in.

“Well, I always say it doesn’t hurt for the chauffeur to know the destination.”

“You think you’re funny, but you’re not.”

His chuckle is my reward.

As soon as we get into the car, Mac taps away on his phone, his forehead pleated in concentration and occasionally irritation. After a while, he puts the phone away and rests his head against the seat, staring out of the window in a return to his earlier moodiness.

“Going to tell me what the matter is?” I say cheerfully. It’s shocking how eager I am to get his attention back on me.

His gaze flicks over to me. “Pardon?”

I point at him. “What’s with the pouting? It’s like watchingProject Runwayonly without the tantrums and excessive displays of emotion.”

The car swerves slightly, and Robert says in a choked voice, “Sorry. I was just avoiding a pothole.”

Mac narrows his eyes, and I race into speech. “If you won’t tell me, I’m afraid I’ll just have to guess.”

“Well, this should be entertaining,” he says silkily.

“Okay, but this is all your fault, so on your own head be it. You have left me no choice. We’re off to Brazil to get your bum lifted.”

He sucks in a breath, but he’s made of stern stuff, so his voice is calm when he speaks. “No.”

“No?”

“Did I stutter?”

“No, but you could definitely win an award in brevity if there was one. Okay. Not a bum lift. Are we going to Devon to milk a cow?”

“Are cows only available in Devon now? And why on earth would I wish to milk one?”

I shrug. “It’s something to do.”

“I am mentally making a note ofneverwhen it comes to letting you plan a day out.”

“Chance would be a fine thing. Okay. Then we must be going to Switzerland because you want to buy a cuckoo clock.”

“Ah, no, but I do commend your extensive geographical knowledge.”

I fall back against my seat and roll my eyes. “I give up.”

“Oh no. Please say it isn’t so.”

He looks out of the window, and I follow his gaze. We’re driving through a very pretty village that runs alongside a river. “Is that the Thames?”

“Yes.”

“And is this village where we’re going?”