The Boss. Caz Finlay

thinking about old times,’ she said. ‘Remember when we were young and dumb?’

      ‘Aw yes.’ He smiled. ‘You used to be so sweet.’

      Patrick laughed so hard he spat some of his coffee onto the bar.

      Grace ignored them both. She concentrated on picking an imaginary piece of fluff from her skirt so they wouldn’t see her eyes brim with tears. This was why she hated thinking about the past. About the person she once was. The person Nathan was. The possibilities of young love and everything that could have been.

       Chapter Seven

       Twenty Years Earlier

       New Year’s Eve

      Grace saw him as soon as he walked into the Rose and Crown. She still considered it her dad’s place, even though it was now entirely hers. She felt completely out of her depth sometimes but being in the bar made her feel close to him. The familiar smells; the constant hum of chatter; the smooth wood of the bar beneath her fingertips; all of them were comforting in their own way.

      Grace continued to stare at the handsome stranger. He was so incredibly gorgeous, that it almost felt like her heart stopped when she saw him. She unconsciously held her breath, afraid that if she dared to breathe the spell might be broken, and he would disappear into thin air. He couldn’t be much older than her, but he walked into the room with the confidence of someone who knew exactly who they were, and what they wanted.

      As he made his way over to a group of people at the table she was clearing, she noticed the most incredible eyes she had ever seen. Cornflower blue, they sparkled under the bright light of the cheap chandeliers. His dark brown hair stuck to his forehead from the rain. Catching her eye, he smiled, and she almost dropped the tray she was carrying. It was as though someone had hit her knees with a sledgehammer.

      ‘Whoa!’ he said as he caught her by the elbow. ‘You been drinking on the job? You’ll get the sack if you’re not careful.’ He laughed.

      ‘That’d be difficult,’ one of the regulars chuckled. ‘It’s her pub.’

      The good-looking stranger raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Really? I’m impressed.’

      Scurrying away with a bright red face, Grace’s heart pounded in her ears. She hadn’t had much experience with boys. Having gone to an all-girls’ school, and raised by an overprotective, although well-meaning, father, she never got the chance to.

      After taking the tray back to the bar, Grace went into the ladies’ toilets in an attempt to compose herself. She wished Marcus didn’t have the night off. He was as hopeless with men as she was, but at least he’d have made her laugh about the whole thing. Splashing her face with some cold water, she tried to cool her flushed cheeks. What an idiot, running off like that. What would he think? She looked herself over in the mirror. Was she plain looking? Well she was never the type of girl who got noticed at any rate. Fashionable? God no. Judging by the teasing she’d got from the other girls at school. Do your make-up in the dark, Grace? Go clothes shopping with your nan, Grace?

      Her figure wasn’t bad though. Tucking the loose-fitting T-shirt she was wearing into her jeans, she smoothed the fabric over her flat stomach. Marcus was always telling her not to hide herself away in baggy clothes and to make more of an effort. Oh, God! How she wished she’d made an effort tonight. He must have a girlfriend anyway, and if he didn’t, he’d never be interested in someone like her. After drying her face, she left the sanctuary of the ladies’ room and made her way back out into the crowd, deciding to avoid him for the rest of the night before she got the chance to make an even bigger fool of herself.

      ‘You managed to break any glasses yet?’ A voice interrupted Grace’s thoughts as she sat on a stool at the side of the bar, nursing a Diet Coke. ‘I’m Nathan,’ he said and smiled.

      He looked right into her eyes until she thought she might pass out from fear and excitement. She looked at him blankly for what felt like minutes, until he laughed. If it were possible, his laugh was better than his smile.

      ‘I’m Grace,’ she finally whispered, all the while chastising herself for being such an idiot.

      ‘Nice to meet you, Grace,’ he said as he extended his hand.

      His hand was warm, and it engulfed hers. The roughness from his calloused fingertips juxtaposed against the soft skin of her palm. She held onto it just a little longer than could be considered polite, not wanting to let him go. When he pulled his hand away she missed the feel of his skin immediately, as though she had always known his touch.

      ‘So, is this really your pub then?’ he asked.

      Grace explained about her mum passing away when she was just a toddler, and how she was an only child. She told him that her dad died a few months earlier, and left the place to her, lock, stock and quite literally, barrel. She told him all about how close she and her dad were and how lost she’d felt without him. Her only remaining relative was her beloved aunt. She was helping out with the pub over the festive period but had moved to Leeds a few years earlier when she met her husband. Before long, the handsome, intimidating stranger, had her jabbering about herself in a way she wouldn’t have thought possible only fifteen minutes before.

      ‘Grace! I hate to interrupt your social life, but your break finished ten minutes ago and unless it escaped your notice, we’re a bit busy,’ her Aunt Helen shouted from across the bar.

      ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got to get back to work.’

      He took hold of her arm as she climbed off the stool. ‘So who is the lucky fella who gets to kiss you at midnight then?’

      ‘There is no lucky fella,’ she said as she felt the heat creep up her neck. ‘Why?’

      ‘Well we can’t have that now, can we? Everyone has to kiss someone at midnight on New Year’s Eve.’

      Grace’s stomach started to perform all kinds of unexpected gymnastics. What did he mean by that? Surely not?

      ‘I’ll come find you at twelve,’ he said, before winking at her and disappearing into the crowd.

      The rest of the night passed in a blur. Grace kept replaying the conversation with Nathan over in her head. Did he really mean he wanted to kiss her? Surely he was joking? Or drunk? Or both? What if he left before midnight?

      As the night went on she became a bundle of awkwardness. Unable to concentrate on anything, she passed the same table three times before remembering she was supposed to be clearing it of empty glasses. She’d never kissed a boy before, at least nothing you could call a proper kiss. There was that one time when she was fifteen, with Jason Miller, the cool sixth former from the local boys’ school who all the girls fancied. Shuddering, she recalled that encounter. Although he claimed to be St Michael’s High School’s very own answer to Brad Pitt, he appeared to have no idea what he was doing. His tongue felt like a slimy fish, and he just stuck it in there. She’d almost choked. It had not been a pleasant experience. Grace had a feeling that kissing Nathan would be entirely different, and she couldn’t wait.

      It was just before midnight and Nathan continued laughing and drinking with his friends. Grace began to wonder again whether the elusive kiss would happen. Why hadn’t he come over to her yet? Was it all a joke? Shifting from one foot to the other as the ten second countdown started, she was still alone in the crowd when she was suddenly grabbed by the waist. Turning around, there he was, that handsome face and those amazing eyes, looking right at her.

      ‘You’re fucking beautiful, do you know that?’ he said.

      Before she could respond, he kissed her, and it was everything that she’d hoped it would be. She could taste the whisky he’d been drinking, and she wondered if it was that which was making her head spin and legs