Read Online Casting Samson by Melinda Hammond - Free Book Online

huh?”
    “Something like that.” She was surprised she could even talk about it. “I was fed up with being quiet, shy little Deborah Kemerton who would never say boo to a goose. I thought a few drinks would give me some sort of Dutch courage.” She grinned. “It worked—a bit too well, I’m afraid. Sorry that you had to be on the receiving end.”
    “I’m not.”
    The soft words threw Deborah into a panic. Josh was smiling at her, and there was a glint in his dark eyes that she found extremely attractive. She couldn’t look away.
    “It…it was the drink talking the other night. All bravado, I’m afraid. I’m not in the market for a new man, no relationship, no one-night stand, nothing.” She was aware that she was babbling like an idiot, and with relief she saw the painted sign creaking on its hinges above the Yew Tree Restaurant. Deborah skipped ahead to open the kitchen door, and once she was on familiar territory her inbred good manners kicked in. “Thanks for carrying that box for me. Would—would you like a coffee or something?”
    “A cold drink would be great, thanks.”
    She led the way into the kitchen, where her father was putting on his apron.
    “Ah, there you are, Debs. Did you get everything?” He looked enquiringly at the young man following her into the room.
    “Yes. Oh, this is Josh.” She blushed, realising she didn’t know his surname.
    Josh didn’t seem perturbed, but merely put down the box and held out his hand towards her father.
    “Hi. Josh Lancaster.”
    “Stan Kemerton.”
    “I’ll just get Josh a Coke, Dad. Wages for carrying the box.” She went to the chiller as her father asked Josh if he was living in the area.
    “Not sure yet. Depends if I can get any work around here.”
    “Josh is a chef,” Deborah explained, handing him a can.
    “Oh?” Stan Kemerton raised an eyebrow. “Professional?”
    “Uh-huh. Trained at ’Tech in Bristol, spent some time abroad. I was chef de partie at the Zurich Hilton, then I was at the Glasshouse in Reading before it closed.”
    “Hmm.” Stan Kemerton opened a large pack of bacon. “I’m a self-taught cook myself. Never had time to go to any fancy colleges, but I still make a living.”
    Deborah knew by his belligerent tone that her father was on the defensive. She looked anxiously at Josh, but he was smiling.
    “We certainly enjoyed our lunch here, and I’ve heard nothing but praise about the Yew Tree since I’ve been in Moreton.”
    Stan merely grunted, but he was pleased. He said, “I hear they’re looking for a commis chef at the Towers—that’s the hotel on the other side of the village, about two miles out on the Oxford Road.”
    Josh nodded. “Kylie mentioned it last night, at the pub. I’m going up to see them this afternoon.”
    “Well, good luck then.”
    “Thanks. And thanks for the drink. I’d better be going. You’ll want to get ready to open.” He handed the empty can to Deborah.
    “Good luck at the Towers this afternoon.”
    “Yeah. Thanks. I’ll let you know if I get it.”
    “Nice lad,” said Stan when Josh had gone.
    “Yes.” She turned. “And thinking of the Towers reminds me. I saw Alan Thorpe this morning. Asked me to remind you about his offer. What’s that about, Dad?
    Stan wouldn’t meet her eyes. He busied himself wiping down the worktops. “Oh, he’s offered to buy me out.”
    “But that’s great! You and Mum can retire to the coast, just as you’ve always wanted.”
    “Hang on now, love. It’s not that straightforward. He doesn’t want to run this place as a restaurant. He wants to turn it into one of those Happy Shamrock places, you know, those so-called Irish bars. Designer beers, fake oak beams and plastic horse brasses. That’s why I didn’t mention it to you. Even if we move away from here, that’s not what I want to see happen to this place. We’ve lived in Moreton all our lives. You were born here. We’ve lots of friends who would like to keep a decent