Page 6 of The Loneliest Number (The Thirst Trap #3)

Chapter five

Pixie

I raise my face towards the blue sky, and the sunshine filtering down warms my skin.

I breathe in, trying to soak in my favourite season.

A bird sings a cute little tune somewhere, and I search the tops of the buildings to find it on the telegraph pole.

It’s a tiny thing making a hell of a lot of noise.

I head down the high street towards The Thirst Trap, where my shift starts soon.

I’ll be ten minutes early, so I have enough time to water the hanging baskets and tend to the flowers outside before I prep the bar for service.

I’m opening up today. It hasn’t got old yet, this level of responsibility that Tom handed to me months ago. I still don’t feel adult enough to be listed as assistant manager of the bar, but it’s teaching me a lot.

I’ve worked with Tom for years now. He took a chance on me, a scruffy little thing always looking for an argument.

And not a day goes by that I’m not grateful for that.

He’s shared his own background since then, and I realise he might have recognised his own story in mine.

He’s been like a big brother to me. And now he’s in a relationship with Jack and Cassidy, it feels like my found family has grown.

I pause at the corner to check before crossing the street, and activity across the way catches my eye.

I stand on the edge of the kerb, staring at the building diagonally across the crossroads: The Juniper.

It’s been boarded up for years, which is a real shame because the rest of the neighbourhood has been thriving with its bar, cafe, bakers, and florist. The abandoned building has been a bit of a blight.

It’s a stunning building with carved stone and ornate details.

I’ve spent hours daydreaming about what I would do with it if I was rich enough.

I’d bring it back to its glory. A rounded turret-like tower sits out on the corner and spans the three floors.

There’s also a hint of a basement with the floor level long rectangular glass panes to filter some light through.

There’s a grand doorway, and a gargoyle sits above the arched entrance, poking his tongue out at passers-by.

How amazing it would be to live on the top floor and set that circular corner space up as a cosy den for people watching out the many windows?

The windows have been boarded up for at least three years. And yet, two men are removing the boards from the ground floor ones. I crane my neck to see that the doorway has also been cleared.

I hurry across the crossroads, grateful for the lull in traffic to jog to the other side. I’m desperate to see inside, to see what it looks like. I stride towards the doorway, eager for my first glimpse, when a group of people in hard hats and high vis step outside.

“Crazy bastard. He’s got his work cut out for him,” one of the men says to the others. Frustration simmers in my belly as they spread out, blocking any view inside.

“He’s got a reputation for doing amazing restoration work though. It’s going to be a wonder when he’s finally finished,” another chips in.

“That’s if he doesn’t run out of funds. It needs so much done.”

“Why isn’t he here today?” the first one asks.

“He’s not local. He’s from up north, Scotland, I think. Should be getting in later today.”

My heart skitters at the Scottish reference. But there are millions of Scots. Of course, they’re not talking about the one whose number has been burning a hole in my pocket since he gave it to me three months ago.

Three long months that I’ve been unable to delete it from my contacts… just in case. Just in case what? There’s a wistfulness for the offered tour of the Highlands and Skye, with the added bonus of some of the best orgasms of my life.

Multiple times, I’ve opened up his contact late at night and stared at his number.

I could recite the number by heart now, I’ve stared at it for so long.

I’ve found myself wondering what he and Saffy have been doing.

Have they met up with other unicorns like me?

Or has he been with people in other combinations?

And was it as explosive as the night the three of us had together?

I’ve also contemplated reaching out to Saffy on the app with a friendly hello. But something has held me back each time. I’m usually more than happy with a one and done, but the memory of my night with the pair of them is proving impossible to move on from.

“Miss, I said, can we help you?” One of the hard hat crowd steps towards me.

They are all staring at me. I blink.

“Oh no, I was just being nosy. It’s been boarded up for so long.” I gaze above their heads at the gargoyle. “I’m glad someone’s going to fix her up.”

“There’s a lot that needs fixing, that’s for sure,” the guy who spoke to me responds.

I still can’t see past the crowd to the inside of the building, but if work is going to start, hopefully, there will be more opportunity for me to catch a peek.

I give the workmen a vague smile and head down the street towards work.

It’s only when I get to The Thirst Trap that I realise I didn’t ask them what it was going to be.

“Flats maybe? Office space?” I suggest after Tom arrives and I fill him in on the building work.

“I don’t know, Abs. I guess we’ll find out soon,” Tom replies as we work behind the bar to stock the fridges for the evening rush. “Why are you so interested, anyway?” he asks, a curious look in his eyes.

“I dunno. I just always daydreamed about the place. That was going to be my project if I ever won the lottery. I’d love to live on the top floor.”

“But, Abby, you don’t even play the lottery, do you?

” Cassidy asks from her perch on the other side of the bar.

She’s taken to coming down some days and working here for an hour or so while we bustle around her.

She likes having company while she writes her latest book.

And I love having the opportunity to sneak a glance over her shoulder to see what smut she’s writing.

“No, that’s true. Dammit, why didn’t I buy a ticket?”

“I didn’t even know the place was up for sale. There was no signage or anything,” Tom says with a frown.

“Can’t you look up planning permission applications online?

” Cassidy asks, peeking over her laptop at me.

“Surely they’ve already put the application in if there are people there starting to do stuff.

” She stares at me for a moment before going back to her laptop and typing.

I shrug and carry on filling the fridges with soft drinks, assuming she’d gone back to her work in progress when she yells, “Found it!”

“What have you found?” Tom asks, puzzlement drawing his brows together.

“The planning application. I’m just opening up the file now.”

I stand up from my kneeling position, dusting off my jeans with my hands as I do.

“Oh.” Disappointment edges her voice.

“What is it?” I ask, wondering why she’d sound like that.

“It’s a mix of uses, but it sounds like one of them is going to be a bar.” She winces at Tom as she says it. “Were you informed someone else locally had applied for a bar licence?”

“No, but I’m behind on my emails. There’s the possibility I got something about it.” His tone is infuriatingly nonchalant. I reach across, slapping Tom’s bicep. “Ow, what’s that for?” he asks with a scowl.

“If we’d known, we could have put in a protest. Dammit, Tom. Now some rich guy is gonna open a swanky bar and steal all our customers, and I’ll be out on my ear.”

“Abs,” Tom sighs as he tugs me into his side in a one-armed hug. “It’ll be fine, even if it is another bar, there’s enough room for two of us in this town. It’s good to have some competition. It’ll keep us on our toes.”

“That’s the spirit, my love,” Cassidy says, giving him an encouraging smile.

But I’m not convinced. This feels like it could rock my stable boat. And it took me a long time to feel this way. Is this the storm I’ve been expecting to hit when life got easier and I wasn’t convinced I deserved it?