Chapter Eight

The back of Lexie's neck pricked with sweat as she hitched her rucksack farther up her back, walking the last few feet from the bus stop to the snazzy boutique hotel she'd be staying in. It was warmer than she was used to at this time of year—a balmy fifty-five degrees—and the long-sleeved T-shirt, big jumper, and winter coat were too much for the sunny day, despite the cool breeze whisking the smell of the ocean toward her. She couldn't see the beach from here, but she could hear the cawing of seagulls nearby.

She headed past the bright blue hotel sign, under the domed entrance, and into the lobby area. It was the type of place Lexie loved to stay—proudly independent—and it had a distinctly modern feel, classy and tastefully understated. Sleek wooden flooring, lighting that managed to be neither too bright nor too dim, and stairs to her left that led to a bar area, complete with big white pillars, plush armchairs, and high stools at the backlit bar. It had been a while since she'd stayed in a hotel this fancy, and it made her feel out of place in her travel clothes, like she should be wearing something other than leggings and trainers. Plus, even though it hadn't been a long flight, she still had that travel-tired feeling after taking a bus to the train station, the train to Zurich, waiting around in the airport, then jumping on a plane before finishing the whole thing with two more buses. She wanted a shower and a toothbrush, stat.

She headed for the reception desk, which had an orchid on one corner of it. The woman sitting there was very chic—the type to be able to pull off a blue blazer and a neckerchief. She had flawless skin, peach lipstick, and neat eyeliner, her hair looped into some fancy knot on the back of her head. It made Lexie feel even more unkempt as she dumped her rucksack at her feet, ran a hand through her curls.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle. Puis-je vous aider?"

"Oui, bonjour. Je…" She bit her lip, her limited French completely deserting her. She tried again, telling herself, the way she always did, that she must get better at languages. "Je m'appelle Lexie Peterson. Je, er…"

The woman smiled brightly at her. "Ah, oui, you are with the R&L Travel, yes?"

Lexie nodded, pathetically relieved. "Yes."

"I remember you are coming today. The others arrived yesterday." She started tapping at her keyboard with perfectly manicured nails. "You are in room 202, and I think—ah, oui, here he is." The woman gestured behind Lexie's shoulder, and Lexie turned to see an older man with salt-and-pepper hair walking toward her, wearing smart trousers, a shirt, and an expensive-looking jacket—along with a broad grin.

He held out a hand as he approached. Lexie couldn't help but notice his black shoes were very, very shiny. "You must be Lexie. You look just like your father, just like him."

Lexie shook the hand he was offering, and he gripped hard before letting go. "I'm Mike. Ange told me to expect you and she was spot-on with the timing as always. Delighted to meet you, truly, delighted. Heard so much about you, of course. You've given Lexie her key, Simone?"

The receptionist—Simone, apparently—fumbled behind the desk, then held out a key card to Lexie. "Voici."

He winked at her. "You're an angel." He checked the time on his gold watch. "Now, Lexie, I'm heading off with our group of clients in a tick. We're going for a look around the basilica—not strictly about the lemons, I know, but the building is a sort of lemony yellow so we're leaning into that—and then we're going to have lunch at a delightful spot. It's reserved just for us: we work with them every year and their tarte au citron is to die for—honestly, never tasted anything like it. You'll want to freshen up, I'm sure…" He gave her a quick glance up and down and Lexie felt sure he was taking in every inch of her frazzled appearance. "But you'll join us for lunch, yes? Ange said to give you the full tour experience, and I fully intend to make you our guest of honor while you're here."

Lexie couldn't think of much to say to that other than "Oh, right. Thank you." She worked up a smile. "And yes, lunch sounds good. Great, actually." She'd eaten nothing all day apart from a disappointing croissant on the plane. "But how will I know where to find you? Do you have the name of the restaurant, or…?"

"Not to worry, Lexie, not to worry. I'll leave Theo at the hotel. He'll wait for you and can bring you over whenever you're ready."

Lexie realized she was staring at him in a way that might seem rude, and she tried to twist her expression into something more appropriate. "I'm sorry, did you say—?"

"Ah and here's the man himself!" Mike boomed, loud enough to make Lexie jump. She looked around, dread coiling in her stomach, to see Theo coming around the side of reception, where the arrows indicated there was an elevator. Theo jerked to a stop, staring back at her. And it was clear, from the slow frown that crossed his face, that he hadn't known she'd be here. He managed to school his expression as he tore his gaze away from her.

"They're waiting outside, Mike."

"Marvelous. You know Lexie, of course, don't you?"

"I do. Although I didn't realize she'd be joining us." He gave her a look then, like it might be her fault—like she'd somehow deceived him.

"No," she said shortly. "I didn't know you'd be here either."

"Really?" Mike said, his graying eyebrows pulled together as he looked between them. "Not like Ange to forget to bring everyone up to speed. And I thought you knew there was a reason there were two of us out here, Theo." Mike's tone somehow managed to be both mild and condescending at the same time, but he bustled on before Theo could comment. "No matter, you're both here now. Theo, I've told Lexie you'll wait with her and show her to the restaurant. That's not a problem, is it?"

"I don't need—" Lexie began, but Theo interrupted her.

"No, it's not a problem."

And Lexie could hardly force the issue, could she? She wondered why Theo was taking orders from Mike—shouldn't Theo, and she, come to think of it—rank above him?

"Excellent. Well, I best be off. See you at lunch!"

For a brief moment, after Mike left the lobby, Theo and Lexie just stared at each other. Why— why did he have to look all…put together like that, with his dark, windswept hair, wearing a coat that seemed to highlight his shoulders. She hated that he looked attractive, hated that she realized he looked attractive, when he was the last person she wanted to see right now. It tipped the balance in his favor, when her hair was sticking up all over the place and she could feel where the sweat had grown cold on the back of her neck.

"So," Lexie said. "You're here."

He looped his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. "Looks like."

She swore under her breath at the sarcastic tone as she bent to pick up her rucksack.

"So nice to see you too," he said, voice all faux-sweet.

She gritted her teeth, but they were at a stalemate. Neither of them could get out of this—they'd both been played. Lexie was going to have to have words with Ange—she didn't appreciate being manipulated. She wouldn't have agreed to come if she'd known Theo would be here—which Ange must have known. It felt like Ange was putting them in the same room and shutting the door with a "Play nice, children." Then again, Ange hadn't actually told her Theo wouldn't be here, had she? And Lexie had been dumb enough not to ask.

"What time is lunch?" Lexie asked.

"In about an hour and a half."

"Right. Well, I'll just go up and get sorted, then."

"I'll wait down here, then."

She frowned. "I've got to shower and change."

He gestured toward the elevator. "By all means, take your time."

She hesitated, then walked past him, rucksack over one shoulder, key card clutched in her hand, and jabbed the button on the elevator harder than strictly necessary. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him head into the bar area, his phone now pressed to his ear. "Hi, Ange. I think there's something you might have forgotten to tell me."

—

Her hotel room was gorgeous, the wall behind the huge king-size bed a dark sea blue, pristine white sheets, and polished wood floors to match the lobby. The best part, though, was the view—that and the fact that on the second floor, she had her very own balcony to step out onto, looking out across a long stretch of beach on the French Riviera, where the water glistened in the sunlight and green mountains stretched out behind the line of hotels. She'd have loved to stay out here and just breathe it all in, but it was probably best not to give Theo even more reason to be pissed off.

She showered and changed, taking her time to enjoy the fancy water jets. She should have thought better about what clothes to bring—she wished now she had something sleek and sophisticated to wear to lunch. She settled on jeans, pumps, and her go-to red jumper, then assessed herself in the mirror. The lighting in the bathroom was that dim, flattering kind, so by her estimation she looked perfectly fine. Still, she put on some mascara to make herself feel better, scrunched up her damp curls, then took a breath, bracing her hands on the porcelain sink. It was only a couple of days. She was here now: she might as well try to enjoy it—especially as she'd never been to this part of France before, let alone a lemon festival, of all things. She wouldn't let Theo ruin her time here.

Her "make the most of it" attitude was put to the test, however, the moment she got to the lobby—and Theo wasn't there. Nor was he in the bar area, moodily sipping whiskey or something. She felt her palms prick as she looked around. Why hadn't she insisted Mike tell her the name of the restaurant? Why hadn't she taken his phone number, for God's sake? She got out her phone to see if there was an email from Theo explaining where he'd gone—but nothing.

"Excusez-moi?" Lexie looked up to see Simone smiling at her. "You are looking for your friend?" Lexie nodded—deciding that now was not the time to point out that he was not her friend. "He is in the garden." Simone pointed to the back of the hotel, through the bar area and out the other side.

Lexie followed her directions into not so much a garden as a beautiful courtyard with cobblestones, small wooden tables, and towering green plants that gave it a tropical feeling. Theo was sitting in one corner, his face partly obscured in the shade from the nearest tree. There was an espresso cup in front of him and he was frowning as he tapped something out on his phone.

"You said you'd wait for me in the lobby," she said as she walked over to him.

He didn't even look up at her as he continued to write something. "I trusted in your problem-solving skills to be able to find me."

She pulled her coat on over her jumper and rolled her shoulders. Do not engage, Lexie. " Right. Well, shall we go?"

He pressed a final button, shoved his phone into his coat pocket, and stood up, barely sparing her a glance before setting off and leaving her to scramble to keep up.

He walked them through the town, and though she'd only caught a fleeting glimpse of the lemon sculptures they were here to see, everything seemed fitting for a place known for its citrons . The buildings were a mixture of orange and yellow, with the occasional sunset pink, which made it feel warmer, somehow. The streets were narrow and there were a lot of tourists around, meaning they had to dodge past the ones stopping to window-shop or take photos.

After five minutes of walking in silence, Lexie was starting to feel awkward. She was usually good at this—small talk. She'd had to get good at it, because she moved around so much—there were always new people to get to know. But right now, she couldn't think of what to say. What she really wanted to ask were questions about the company—about how things were looking, whether he was planning any changes. Whether the Iceland trip was going to be implemented this year, for instance. She opened her mouth a few times, on the verge of broaching the subject, but chickened out each time.

The fourth time she went to open her mouth, Theo gave her a look. "You know, I can hear your brain going, even if you don't say anything out loud."

She bit her lip. "I was going to ask about the company. Whether there's anything I should know—any changes or big new trips or…anything," she finished lamely. "But you've made it perfectly clear you don't want to talk to me about any of that—so I was trying not to ask."

He shot her that annoying raised-eyebrow look.

How had he gotten that scar? she wondered. No. She wasn't wondering—she didn't care one way or another.

"Given you made your lack of interest in anything your dad created perfectly clear from the outset and are literally counting down the days until you can be shot of the whole thing, you can see why I'd be reluctant to discuss it."

"It isn't…" She shook her head. "That's beside the point. I need to know," she insisted. "I need the money when this company sells."

"Did we actually agree we'd sell the company?" he asked, his voice mild. "I can't remember an explicit conversation about that."

"What?!" she spluttered. "Are you kidding me right now? That is the whole reason I am even—"

"Here we are." He came to a stop outside a rather shabby-looking building, nothing to distinguish it from the two deep yellow terraces on either side. But Theo seemed sure, opening the door and ushering Lexie inside. It was a small place—beyond the bar there seemed to be only one room, which was almost entirely taken up by a long table, covered in a white tablecloth, wineglasses glinting in the sunlight streaming through the high windows. It was nice enough, and the waiter who greeted them was friendly, but it didn't seem like anything special—there was no grand view or stylish interior, as she would have expected from somewhere on a travel company's itinerary.

"What is this place?" Lexie asked, without consciously making the decision to speak out loud.

"Some people would call it a restaurant."

Lexie rolled her eyes at him—he was the type to bring out an eye roll. "Right, I got that, thanks."

Theo headed farther in—and Lexie could see that everyone else was already there, Mike at the middle of the table, currently handing round a bottle of white wine. There were about ten of them in total and they already seemed to know one another, if the way they were chatting away was anything to go by.

"We've been working with the family who runs this place pretty much since the company began," Theo said, and Lexie glanced up at him. "It's a small restaurant, and when Richard found it they weren't doing too well. It's a touristy town, but that still doesn't make it easy, competing with the fancy hotels or places that look a certain way. But this place honestly has the best food." He gave a little shrug as she continued to look up at his face. "It's part of the whole ethos of the company—work with small, local places, support the community and people like these guys, who work hard and love what they do. It adds to the feeling of discovering the place behind the tourist traps." He paused, then added, "It's one of the things I love about this company—about what your dad built here. I'm not sure I said that enough to Richard, but…" He trailed off, and Lexie looked away, unsure what to make of the hint of emotion in his voice. The hint of someone who might not just be mean for the hell of it—but who genuinely might miss her dad. Maybe miss him more than she was capable of? She didn't know how to answer that.

Instead she glanced around the restaurant again. She loved stumbling on places that weren't the Hilton or the chains aimed at tourists, loved the idea of getting to know the community that way. And she hadn't quite clocked that her dad's company was all about that, too. She'd assumed the smaller hotels advertised on most of their trips were more about marketing than a company ethos, but maybe they weren't. Had this been important to her dad? Or was it just to try to be trendy, stand out from the crowd? She hated that Theo probably knew the answer to this when she didn't.

Lexie grabbed Theo's arm as he made to join the table. And added another thing to the hated list—that she noticed how solid his arms were, even beneath his coat. "Look, Theo—" she began, intending to pick up the conversation about selling the company. But she was cut off by Mike's booming voice.

"Lexie! Theo! Come and join us, we're all just getting settled. Lexie, I've saved you a seat opposite me. Come on, come on. Everyone, this is Lexie." He beamed around the table and she got a few smiles and one awkward wave.

Theo looked down pointedly at her hand on his arm, and she let go. She plastered a smile on her face as she went to take her seat opposite Mike, in between a redheaded woman in her thirties—the one who had waved—and a man in his forties, who was talking to another man next to him in a low voice.

"Feeling better, Lexie?" Mike asked, immediately filling her glass with wine. She took a sip—why not?—and was surprised at how good it was. She shouldn't have been, really—this was France, after all. But it was much better than the expensive wine from the chalet—this was cool and crisp and dangerously drinkable. And even she, with her limited wine knowledge, could taste the citrus undertones.

"Much, thanks." She glanced down the table. Theo had taken a place at the end and a woman wearing a pale blue blouse, in her thirties, maybe, with short brunette hair, was leaning in, nodding along at whatever Theo was saying, while the man opposite her—her husband?—looked a bit bored. The woman looked charmed, though. And Theo was smiling, telling some kind of story. So, it was only her he was a dick to, then.

"You're just in time for the starters," Mike said, smiling to the two waiters as they came out. "Put them down anywhere, chaps, they're for everyone." Either the waiters spoke perfect English, or they already knew what to do, because soon the table was filled with starters for them to pick at. There was lemon ricotta bruschetta, lemon crab bites, mini salmon cakes with lemon, and a fancy white bean lemon dip.

"Lemon is incorporated into every dish," Mike explained, unnecessarily.

"What if someone doesn't like lemons?" Lexie asked wryly, before she could stop herself.

At the end of the table, she saw Theo look up. He briefly caught her eye and his lips twitched like he might be about to smile, but he didn't give in to it. Mike, however, didn't seem to get the joke.

He took a crab bite, then leaned across to Lexie conspiratorially. Either side of them, people were engaged in conversation. "Now, Lexie, tell me. How are you doing?"

Lexie put her hand over her mouth as she swallowed her first bite of bruschetta. And OK, she could immediately see why Richard had picked this place. The food was amazing. How did they get a simple bruschetta to taste so good? The ricotta melted in her mouth, with just enough burst of lemon, managing to be both sweet and sour. She swallowed sooner than she would have liked to answer Mike's question. "I'm all right, thanks. How was—?"

"I know it must be tough. Your father was very dear to me, of course, very dear. I do know he was a bit of a rascal, though, back in his day."

Lexie was trying hard to like Mike, but him describing her dad as a "rascal," like he was just a kind of playful puppy, made her want to grit her teeth. She took a sip of wine instead.

"I know it must be hard, having been thrown into all this. Have you talked to the solicitor, to see if there's any way out of it for you?"

Lexie spooned some of the bean dip onto her plate. Presumably Theo and Ange had filled him in about her reluctance to take on any responsibility for the company. "I asked—and I got a friend of mine who's a solicitor to check, but they both agreed the terms were pretty clear." And she didn't want to talk about it. "Do you always have one of you on the trips? From R&L I mean?"

"No, not always. We mainly use local guides, so part of the job is recruiting those people, working with them to offer the best experience with customers. Support the local economy, you know." He said it with a wave of the hand, like it didn't really matter to him—but Lexie knew that kind of thing did matter. "But it's good for us to be here on the ground when we can. Makes the customers feel loved and appreciated—it's the reason they come back to us. The personal touch, you know. Plus free holidays for us—a perk of the job." He gave a jovial laugh, and Lexie tried to join in. "Now," Mike said, dropping his voice and adopting a serious face once more, "is there anything I can do to make this easier on you? From what I understand you've chosen to take a step back from the running of things. A wise decision, I might add."

"Is it?" For some reason, the way he said it made her bristle. She didn't know why—it had been her decision, after all. But it was said like maybe she couldn't handle it. And that, she realized, was what was annoying her so much about the way Theo was being. They were behaving like she couldn't do it, as opposed to simply not wanting to.

"Absolutely. If you're not planning to take the company on long-term, then I think it makes perfect sense to let it tick along with Theo. And of course I'm here, too. I might not have an active stake like you two, but I do care about the company—like Theo, I've been with your dad on this since the inception. I was here before Theo, even—your dad brought me in very early on. Perhaps he mentioned we were friends before this?"

"Ah, no." Lexie cleared her throat. "My dad and I…I didn't really know much about his life anymore, to be honest." There had been a time, when she was little, when she'd wanted to know everything about his life. Wanted to know what he did when he wasn't with her. Wanted to know, if she was being honest with herself, why his new life was better than his old one. But over the years she'd stopped asking.

"No, no. Understandable. Anyway, maybe we ought to have a think about this mess you've been left in."

"Nothing to think about." She raised her voice very slightly, in case Theo was listening. "When the company is sold it won't be my mess anymore."

"Ye-ss," Mike said slowly, his eyes flickering around the group of them.

Lexie flushed. She shouldn't have spoken so callously—and so loudly. Luckily, no one else seemed to have heard her. For the first time, it really hit her—people's lives were going to be affected by this. Not the clients—she was sure they'd find someone else to have holidays with. But Mike and Ange—the other people who worked there—they might lose their jobs, depending on who took it on. She could see why they didn't love the idea of her coming in, making money, and leaving. A rush of guilt flooded through her, even as she tried to push it away. It wasn't her fault. Her dad had put her in this position.

"I'm sorry, Mike," Lexie said, meaning it. "I know this can't be ideal, me coming in and, well…" She picked her wine up.

"Not at all, not all. Hardly your fault, eh?"

Lexie couldn't help glancing toward the end of the table, to where Theo was sitting. For a second their gazes met, held. Heat flashed through her body, making her tighten her grip on her wineglass. But so what if he'd overheard? She lifted her chin slightly, as if in a silent dare. Then his gaze slid away, back to the woman in the blue blouse, and Lexie let out a slow breath, flexing her fingers on the stem of her glass. Was that a point to her? Regardless, she made sure not to look down his end of the table for the rest of the meal.