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“Okay, so I think that’s everything,” Tristan said, finishing up.

I couldn’t have been more relieved that the meeting was over. His constant searching looks were beginning to make me feel like I should just come out and tell him about the past. Anything was better than this tension.

Just as we were packing away our things, there was a short knock on the door.

“Come in,” Tristan called, and Lou popped his head in.

“How’s it going? Some of the staff are heading down to the Harbour Bar for a drink if anyone wants to join us,” he said, glancing around the room with a particular focus on Katy. Did he have a crush? That would be interesting since they were such polar opposites.

“I’m game,” Barry said to Katy, while Samara nudged me with her elbow. “A drink might be nice,” she said, and I noticed Katy asking Tristan if he was going.

He gave a gentle chuckle, responding self-deprecatingly, “I’m not sure they want to drink with the boss.”

“No, you’re included,” Lou informed him easily, and I was surprised since only last week he’d been up in arms about Cooke. But a lot of headway had been made since then. Not only had Cooke reassured everyone that he was going to be fine, but both Derek and Tristan had spoken directly with the kitchen staff as well as a few other departments to smooth everything over. This invite was an important moment, and for a second, it felt like everyone was holding their breath.

“In that case, sure, I could do with a pint,” Tristan replied with a cordial smile, and I felt everyone’s relief. I’d half expected him to make up some excuse about already having plans, but instead, he was taking the time to cement the tentative peace among the staff.

Tristan Balfe continued to surprise me. I used to think Uncle Fred was a rare sort of boss, the kind who took a genuine interest in his employees and enjoyed interacting with them. The more I saw of Tristan, the more I realised he was a lot like Fred in that regard.

“Well? Are you coming too?” Samara nudged me with her elbow. “We haven’t gone for a drink in ages. It’ll be the perfect chance to finally catch up properly.”

Unable to deny her when she looked at me like that, and also noticing Tristan had his head cocked slightly in our direction, like he was listening, I relented, “Fine, but I’m only having one. We’re not doing a replay of the last time when we ended up ordering tequila shots.”

“Hey, I’ve no intention of getting that messy. I have to be up early for Pilates in the morning.”

I arched a cynical eyebrow. Samara was prone to blowing off those classes when she was hungover.

She placed her hand on my forearm. “I promise you, Rinnie, no going crazy, just a quiet drink.”

Famous last words.

Two hours later and several drinks in, we sat together at a small table near the bar, the cosy, traditional setting of exposed brick walls and dark wood a comfort after a long day at the hotel.

Samara was telling me all about the man she’d started dating—his name was Shawn; he worked in a hardware shop and drove a motorbike—and I told her all about the sights I’d seen on my trip to Italy. Tristan, Katy, Barry, Lisa, Lou and a few others sat at a larger table nearby. I was surprised that Tristan had stayed for so long, but whenever I chanced a peek at him, he looked like he was having a good time, with no plans to leave any time soon.

Glancing at my phone, I noted it was almost ten. I’d paid a quick visit to my apartment on the way over to check on Rua so I didn’t need to rush back. Tomorrow was also my day off, so I decided I could stay for another drink.

“Fancy one more?” I asked Samara, and she nodded. “It’s on me since you got the last one.”

I made my way toward the bar and joined the group of people waiting to be served. There was a good buzz about the place, and the bar staff were rushed off their feet. I let the jovial atmosphere wash over me, feeling relaxed for the first time in days, when suddenly I felt heat at my back.

“Mind if I slide in next to you?” Tristan asked, and I swallowed thickly before lifting my head. Tingles skittered down my spine at his proximity.

“Sure.”

I’d drank more than normal, so it took all my restraint to act sober. There was just something about his unrelenting focus during the meeting today and his searching glances tonight, that had me reaching for more alcohol than might be considered wise. Tristan had a couple drinks too, but since he was a tall, broadly built man, I doubted those drinks were affecting him quite as much as mine were. He barely even looked buzzed as he held himself steadily, shoulders straight while we waited in semi-awkward quiet to be served.

“Having a good night?” he asked.

“It’s been fun.”

“I’m surprised we didn’t think of this sooner,” he said, and I looked at him in question. Tristan motioned to the table of his employees, all talking and enjoying each other’s company. “A few drinks at the local. It seems to have done wonders to get everyone mixing and making friends.”

He left the other part unspoken. That tonight had worked a lot better than the botched human bingo afternoon.

“I hadn’t noticed, but you’re right. Everyone’s getting along.”

“So it all worked out in the end,” he said, his voice softer now, and I realised he was staring at my profile, his focus unwavering. Bloody hell, this was too much. I almost suspected he’d figured out our shared past and was simply trying to torture me. The drink in my system nearly made me impulsive enough to blurt, “Fine! You were right. We do know each other!” but then he said, “Don’t look now.”