Say Hello Kiss Goodbye Read online

  “Ah, bollocks.” The guy huffed and raked a hand through his tousled auburn hair, falling just shy of his narrowed eyes.

  Leia scowled in solidarity, spinning a gold band on the fourth finger of her right hand. All this way and I can’t pay? Great. Fucking great.

  The manager strode toward the waiting throng and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Excuse me, everyone…” His booming voice elbowed into conversations, his cash-only news deflating the post-blackout glee.

  Shaking her head, Leia returned Sarah’s New Year’s Eve necessities to the store-issued shopping bag. “Well, I have no choice, then.” She tucked her wallet away and looked at the sales clerk. “Will someone come get us when it’s working?”

  “Definitely.” With an apologetic wince, his large glasses slipped down his nose. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  Leia gave him a tight-lipped smile. “It’s not your fault.” Hoisting the heavy bag onto her shoulder, she stepped out of line, not sure where to go. She wandered toward the occupied benches near the exit, a gust of chilly, damp air whooshing around the sliding doors.

  “Worst timing ever, eh?” The posh voice turned her head. Plush dinosaur aloft, Star Wars guy wedged the huge unicorn under his arm, his attention straying back to the checkout, searching.

  “God yeah.” Shivering, Leia tugged her unzipped parka closed around her dress as loud voices spewed their discontent at the besieged staff. Where should I wait? “I have somewhere I need to be, but I can’t leave without this stuff.” She gave the stranger a head-to-toe sweep while he looked elsewhere. Messy hair and whiskers aside, he’s well-groomed, confident—extremely attractive. Bet he knows it, too.

  He glanced at Leia. “I don’t want to come back either.” His frown released as the two little boys raced past. “Hey, guys, hold up a second!” His greeting was drowned out by their gleeful shouts about ice cream and the snarky complaints of several shoppers pushing past.

  Oh? Those boys are his?

  He followed the twins toward the bistro, shooting Leia a quick grin. “I’m dying for a coffee. Want one?” He nodded to the small seating area, which was filling up quickly. “Claim a seat before the hordes descend?”

  Leia smiled softly at his upside-down unicorn, squished and peeking out from under his arm. Toys—for his twins. A dull ache wrapped around her heart, but it was overtaken by pain searing through her right leg, short-circuiting all thoughts of children and small talk. She sucked in a sharp breath and adjusted the weight on her shoulder. Keep standing and my knee will be a mess tonight. She looked past the guy’s unicorn, past his mussed-up hair, windswept from the storm outside, to the few remaining chairs. I need to sit down. Just don’t tell hot Star Wars dad my name. “Yeah, okay.”

  His face lit up. “Brilliant! After you.” He shifted his bag’s weight, keeping it close as they moved through the crowd. “Oh, wait. Where are my manners?” He stopped and tucked the dinosaur into his bag. “Hello, I’m Tarquin.” He offered his right hand.

  Oh, crap! Leia’s stomach sank to the floor. Introductions? How very British. She forced a smile as the Star Wars theme blasted from his trouser pocket. Shit! Worst timing ever.

  “Oh, sorry! Just gotta…” Tarquin fought with his pocket, tugging his phone free.

  Eyes wide, she looked over her shoulder, her fingers toying with the rose gold bracelet on her left wrist that she never took off. The checkout was choked with irate shoppers going nowhere and the sliding glass exit was stuck, inviting an umbrella-decapitating surge of wind and icy rain into the store.

  I can’t leave. I can’t escape Star Wars hell. Leia glanced at Tarquin again. But I can change how I react. Be grateful this guy’s helping you grab a seat. She zeroed in on his left hand as he pressed the red ‘decline’ button. He’s got kids but no wedding ring. His boys must’ve been born before he was twenty. He can’t be much older than me.

  Stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he extended his free hand once more. “Where were we?”

  Use the old standby. Tell him your name is Lisa. Taking a deep breath, Leia reached out. “I’m—”

  “Excuse me! Miss?”

  Leia spotted the hipster checkout clerk striding toward her, reading something in his palm. “Miss Scott?” He pushed his glasses up his nose with his index finger. Then, she saw it in his grasp—her credit card. “Leia Scott?”

  Oh, for fuck’s sake.

  “Leia?!” Tarquin’s voice soared, joining his brows in reaching for the ceiling.

  Giving the employee a nod and a “Thank you,” Leia swallowed heavily, cursing her luck.

  Two

  TARQUIN

  Leia? Bloody hell! Is she for real? Joining the line of customers seeking free coffees, Tarquin’s smile wouldn’t quit. She’s gorgeous and blonde and named after a lifelong crush! It’s like fate or something. A rush of adrenaline surged through his chest, taking his pulse on a joyride. “So, that’s really your name? Like Star Wars Leia?” The words flew from his tongue. I can’t screw this up. I cannot walk out of here without her number.

  She grimaced, tucking her credit card in her wallet. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom and Dad.” A half-laugh left her lips. Her attention was restless, wandering back to the checkout. “People think they’ve heard wrong and call me Leah. Either that, or they go all Star Wars geek on me. They ask where my hair buns are, if Obi-Wan Kenobi was my only hope…” She glanced up, her large blue eyes free of shadow and mascara taking in the menu posted above the counter, and sighed. “If I own a gold bikini.”

  Well, if she’s going there. Tarquin raised his brows. If she does own one, I bet she looks smashing in it. He cleared his throat, his gaze reuniting with the beverages menu holding her attention. “So, do you…?”

  Leia’s lips pushed into a pout. “Do I what?” Irritation peppered her tone. “Own a gold bikini?”

  Oops. Struck a nerve. Walk it back, Balfour. “Oh, no—sorry. Do you want that free coffee—or tea?”

  Her chin dropped as she looked his way. “Uh, no. Thanks.” A grin flickered across her face.

  Nice save—still got it.

  “I don’t like hot drinks.” She scrunched her nose and stepped up to the counter.

  What? Who doesn’t like hot drinks? “Oh, really? I love the stuff. I measure my days with coffee.”

  “You…” Her face pinched. “I’m sorry?”

  “My coffee consumption—it indicates how my day’s going. If I’ve had two cups, the day’s a winner, work’s buzzing, I’m too busy for coffee. But four cups or more”—he winced—“the day’s a bloody slog. I always drink more when things need a kick up the arse.”

  “Oh. Right.” Her eyebrows relaxed and she smiled at the guy waiting to take her order. A bubbly “Hi!” burst through her lips, but her friendliness did nothing to soften the harried server’s scowl. “I’ll have a soft drink—the apple one, please.”

  Tarquin nodded. “Oh, those are good. Refreshing. I’ll get a coffee.” Third one today. “Extra milk, cheers—oh, and two of those raspberry soft drinks, please.” The server pushed off the counter in search of their beverages. Tarquin scratched his stubble, weighing what to say next. “At least your name is universally loved, Leia. Unlike Tarquin. Tarquin is a rich twat’s name. Kids named Tarquin get beat up. Only a few of us survive five years of grammar school.”

  “Aw, really? That’s horrible!” Leia let out an abrupt giggle and dropped her pound coins into the cashier’s hand. “So that’s why I’ve never met a Tarquin before.” She returned her wallet to her coat’s pocket.

  He paid for his order and chuckled, twirling his fingers through the unicorn’s fluffy rainbow mane. “And you probably never will again. ‘Survival of the fittest’ and all that. It’s a bloody tragedy.”

  The cashier handed over a tray with Tarquin’s free caffeine fix and the bottled soft drinks, and they pulled away from the counter. Leia helped herself to her apple beverage and took a quick sip, a gratified smile curling her mouth. “One cool thing, th
ough—people never forget my name.” She led the way, past tables of frustrated customers and chairs burdened with yet-to-be-paid-for shopping, and glanced over her shoulder, her hair pooling in her parka’s hood. “I stand out—for better or for worse.”

  “Oh, you stand out, all right,” Tarquin whispered to himself. For better. For so much better, Leia. God, her legs go on for days. He softened his cheek-aching grin so he didn’t look like a lovesick puppy trailing after her.

  Passing an empty table, she smiled back at him and pointed at the overstuffed bag hanging from his shoulder. “Your kids are going to love all that.”

  What? “Kids? Ah, no—no kids. Just me.”

  “Oh?” Confusion clouded her eyes as she looked at the twins stretched across the table in front of them, saving it. The toys? Raspberry drinks? “But I thought…those boys—”

  “Nope. Not mine! Um, can you hold this?” He handed Leia the tray, readjusted the unicorn under his arm, and pulled the dinosaur from his bag. “They dropped this in the dark.” He leaned over, setting the stegosaurus on the twins’ table. “Hey lads, I found your dino friend.”

  Their eyes lit up. “Steggy!” One of the boys snatched the toy and hugged it against his unzipped coat. “Now you can have ice cream, too, Steg.”

  “What do you say?” An approaching male voice grasped Leia and Tarquin’s attention.

  “Thank you.” The twins chirped, obeying their father’s command as he juggled three soft serve vanilla cones.

  “You’re welcome.” Tarquin smiled and backed up, retrieving his tray from Leia. “Shall we?” Setting it down, he claimed the last vacant table and charmingly pulled out a chair for her.

  A gasped “Oh” escaped under her breath as she placed her drink on the table and stole a peek at the checkout again. “Thanks.” A spark of a smile emerged but was quickly extinguished as she sat down.

  She’s surprised? By a bloke offering her a chair? Tarquin cocked a brow and slid his hand in his trouser pocket, retrieving his phone and setting it on the table. Who does she date? Neanderthals?

  Leia rested her heavy bag by her boots, her focus shifting back to the boys, two tables away. “That dinosaur can’t get a word in.”

  “I was like that.” Tarquin lowered his bag to the floor, stashed the bottled raspberry drinks inside, and laid the unicorn on top. Quickly removing his coat, he hung it on the back of his chair and took his seat. “I was always talking to my toys. Don’t remember sharing ice cream with ’em, though.” His fingers roamed, loosening the knot of his blue and green tartan scarf. It complemented his navy cashmere sweater and the unbuttoned collar of the white dress shirt peeking out.

  “When I was little, I thought stuffed toys had feelings.” Leia removed her phone from her parka’s pocket, leaving it beside her drink. “I’d go to the store with my mom and make a beeline for the Beanie Babies. They looked all slouchy and sad, lonely, like they wanted me to take them home. So, I’d tell them I’d be back when I saved enough allowance.” Pulling off her scarf, she shifted one arm from her parka then the other, releasing the lace butterfly sleeves of her white dress. She looked out of place, her ensemble imbued with a whimsical elegance.

  Wow. Tarquin’s eyes widened. That’s what she wears shopping? It’s beautiful. “And did you? Go back?” Chuckling, he sipped his lukewarm coffee as his phone lit up with a photo message, which he ignored it. “How many did you end up buying?”

  “Tons! Even the ones I didn’t like. I’ve never been good with decision-making.”

  “Yet, here you are in IKEA, home to decision overload.”

  Leia peered over the edge of the table at his stuffed shopping bag. “Well, it looks like you couldn’t make up your mind, either.”

  “Actually, I was on a carefully planned mission. Got everything I wanted.” He scooped up the unicorn and opened the bag, its bulging polypropylene smothering his polished dress shoes. “It’s for my niece, Ava. She’s four and has me wrapped around her little finger.” He rifled through a magic kit, several masks, and glitter paints. “I felt guilty leaving yesterday. We were all up in Scotland for Christmas, but I had to come back for work. My brother sent me a voice message this morning, Ava asking when Uncle Talk would return. She can’t say Tarquin or Tarq, so I’m Uncle Talk. It’s rather fitting, according to my family.”

  Leia smiled softly. “Kids are smart. They pick up on the smallest things.”

  “Quite.” He returned the stuffed toy to the bag. “So, after my meeting, I came here for presents. I must maintain my status as her favorite uncle—not that I have much competition these days.” He gestured with his hands in an open, friendly fashion. “She’s in a magic and unicorn phase right now. She’s a total believer.”

  “Aw, I was once.” Leia tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and picked up her drink. “Ava will love her…”

  Tarquin smiled. She’s beautiful. The blonde hair, American accent, Star Wars references—she reminds me of Alex but taller. More confident. He picked up his coffee. I wonder if she’s single—

  “…almost as much as I hate Star Wars.” She smirked behind her bottle.

  Ooof. The geeky half of Tarquin’s heart curled up and died. She hates it? He gulped his drink and swallowed his enthusiasm. “Oh! Well, I can see why you would. Me, I just like…the music—for my ringtone,” he blurted, the desperate coffee-fueled lie curdling in his stomach. Time to change the subject. “So, what’s an American doing in a London IKEA on New Year’s Eve?”

  “I wouldn’t know.” She sipped her drink. “I’m Canadian.”

  Balfour, what are you like? Tarquin flinched. First woman you’ve fancied in months, and you’re getting everything wrong. “Sorry. I’m rubbish at guessing accents.”

  A toothy grin burst through her lips as she watched the twins, mouths smeared with ice cream. “Don’t apologize. It’s fine.”

  “I thought Canadians hated being mistaken for Americans?”

  She shrugged. “Some do, but it’s an easy mistake to make. Happens a lot over here.”

  “So, how long have you lived in London?”

  “I don’t.”

  Oh, bugger. Really?

  Leia looked at the checkout, besieged by sour-faced customers. “My sister does, in North London—Islington. Dad and I are visiting for the holidays. Then I’m off to Italy.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tarquin fought off a frown and set down his coffee. “Lucky you.” Unlucky me. “Italy’s much nicer than Islington.”

  Leia chuckled. “It’ll make a nice change from New York.”

  Wha—New York? Her words felt like a punch to the stomach. “You live in New York?”

  “Yeah. Brooklyn.”

  What did I do to deserve this? I meet her now—when I’m back living here? “I just spent the last three years in New York.”

  “Really? Doing what?”

  “Land and property acquisition for Manville Developments. They’re based in London, but I was their man in Manhattan for three years. I moved back to London last February, was here till July, then returned to New York to finish a project. Now I’m home again, running my own business.”

  “Oh, that’s great. Same field?”

  “Sort of.” And here’s my excuse to casually hand over my contact deets. “I buy and redevelop abandoned properties—pubs, churches, schools.” He shifted in his chair and removed his wallet from his trousers, pulling out a business card. “I love old buildings. You can just feel the history, all these old stories seeped into the walls, you know? The heartbreaks, the triumphs…it’s like they’re all still there, in the bricks.” He offered his credentials across the table with a warm smile. “I save them from the wrecking ball, give them some TLC and a new lease on life without losing what made them special in the first place. That way, I hope they’ll be around for the next hundred years.”

  “Wow. I love that.” Her finger skimmed over the textured Phoenix Properties logo on the luxe card, her nodding approval dissolving into a slight wince. “B
ut I’m guessing most of your rivals don’t feel the same way.”

  “Yeah, adaptive reuse has its critics, but I’m holding my own. I’ve been accused of being a hopeless romantic—like that’s a bad thing—but I don’t give a toss. There are too many developers out there tearing down old gems to build soulless glass skyscrapers. London’s skyline is rife with them.”

  “Like the Shard?”

  “Oh, have you been up?” Tarquin leaned in.

  “Not yet.” She laid his card on top of her phone. “But I’m headed there tonight—champagne and canapes in the clouds.”

  Ugh, I knew it. His stomach dipped. There was no hope in hell a girl like her would be dateless tonight. “Wow, the Shard for New Year’s—someone wants to impress.”

  Leia gave him a tentative smile and sipped her drink.

  “The Shard’s great. It’s innovative and the views are breathtaking…” He paused, raising his coffee to his lips, but he didn’t drink. “The building it replaced was a 1970s eyesore, so no one blinked when that was torn down. But if it’s an abandoned heritage building like a school or warehouse beloved by the community, someone should fight to maintain its history during redevelopment. Costs a bit more, but I reckon it’s worth it.”

  Leia sighed, her gaze sweeping the bistro, full of slouched shoppers wishing they were anywhere but there.

  God, listen to me. Biting his bottom lip, Tarquin stared into his cup. I’ve bored her to tears.

  A slight nod tipped her chin. “I agree. It is worth it.”

  Yeah? A flutter filled Tarquin’s chest. He looked up, meeting her confident stare.

  “We’re such a disposable society,” said Leia, returning her drink to the table. “If it’s old or imperfect, it’s ‘Throw it away’ or ‘Tear it down.’ But the past matters. Second chances matter.”

  We’re so on the same page! “Exactly!” His overworked grin took a well-deserved hiatus while he sipped his coffee. “So, what do you do, Leia?”

  “I’m a dress designer. It’s my dream job, but it doesn’t pay the bills—yet. So, I work at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”