Page 27 of The Chalet Girl

‘Hey,’ she said, gently nudging his arm with hers.

Tiago turned around, dark, expressive eyes lifting.

‘Oh hi, how are you?’ his Portuguese lilt was melodic and slow.

‘Yeah, pretty tired, thanks. But–’ she looked around and winced for him. ‘Poor you, how’s your head?’

Tiago shrugged genially.

‘I’m OK.’

‘Great night last night!’ Emme said. ‘Thanks for getting me home.’

Tiago nodded, and continued to unpack plastic boxes of grapes.

‘No problem.’

‘Where did Cat disappear to? Did she have to work early?’

‘Yeah … Cat man …’ Tiago winced.

‘What? Did you two have an argument?’

Tiago looked puzzled.

‘Erm, no …’

‘Oh, are you two not a couple?’

‘Me and Cat?!’ Tiago laughed.

‘Oh, sorry.’

‘No, she definitely didn’t go home withmelast night…’ Tiago said it with a raised eyebrow.

Emme looked at him guardedly.

‘The only friends with benefits thing we do is when I get her into the Steinherrhof for dinner or she gives me Kivvi leftovers.’

‘Oh right, sorry, I just assumed…’

‘No… she went off with… well, it doesn’t matter, none of my business. But she waschapadaas we say in Portugal.’

Suddenly Emme felt flushed. She had a bad feeling.

‘She’ll be prepping dinner for the Kivvis very hung over right now. Naughty girl.’

What had happened? Emme didn’t really want to think about it. So she focused on her own dinner.

‘Speaking of which, can you point me in the direction of a chicken?’

‘Sadly I can point you in the direction of every fucking thing in this supermarket,’ Tiago said with a laugh, guiding her without touching her, delivering her to the fresh meat and poultry. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with, madam?’ He said it with a smile and a twinkle in his huge eyes.

‘No thanks Tiago, that’s great.’

Emme had time to kill before starting dinner, so she decided to stop for a coffee and read her book in an outdoor café she came across in a secluded little sun-trap terrace. The terrace was framed by wooden logs with flower boxes placed on top, all bursting with stoic winter blooms in pretty pastels. She thought reading in the fresh air might help soothe herhangover as she tookThe Secret Historyout of her bag and ordered a latte from the kindly waiter with a bushy beard.

As Emme waited, she closed her eyes, raised her chin, and invited the sun and sounds of birdsong to replenish her. She could feel vitamin D working its magic in the salve of fresh November sunshine on her skin. She’d started a new job in the prettiest place she’d ever been to in the world, and she hadn’t even had to work for the first two days.