#Forfeit: The Ultimate Game of Dares (Rewrite)

Chapter Two

‘Jen,’ Xander said to the girl behind the bar, ‘please, can I have a bottle of the Prosecco Marcus raves about?’

Then, to Daisy’s astonishment, he reached over the bar, grabbing a bottle of vodka and two glasses. The barmaid set about opening the wine without giving Xander so much as a disapproving tut.

‘Do you work here or something?’ Daisy asked him.

‘Better than that,’ he said, pouring two shots. ‘Oscar’s my dad. Free booze. I wasn’t really going to make you buy me a drink.’

Hurrah for small miracles. She chinked her glass against his and as the Prosecco cork popped, they downed the shots.

‘Shall we take the vodka too?’ Xander whispered conspiratorially. ‘Say yes. I’ve had an awful day.’

Daisy certainly hadn’t anticipated afternoon binge drinking when she left the bank manager’s office – hoped maybe – but who was she to argue with her potential new landlord?

Outside, once they’d settled at a picnic table, Daisy kicked off her shoes and let down her blonde curls from their bank-manager-couldn’t-be-less-appeased bun. Okay, the morning had been nothing short of pointless, but sharing a bottle of Prosecco with a hot piece of eye-candy totally made up for it. God, Xander was pretty, the smidgen of dark stubble just managing to take the edge of his stupidly perfect face. What was he, twenty-two or three?

‘Where are you from?’ he asked.

‘Cheshire originally, but I’ve lived in Brighton for the last few years.’

‘Bit of a culture shock coming here.’

‘I love it here.’ She smiled up at the fells. ‘It’s like my spiritual home.’

That induced another Colgate smile. ‘Scott said Clara’s selling her house and moving in with him?’

‘Yes, selfish cow.’ But Daisy grinned, glancing over to where Clara cheered on her man. Really, Daisy couldn’t be happier for the loved up pair. ‘How come you’re looking for someone to share your cottage?’

‘My mate, James, was staying with me, but he’s moved into his own place. Are you working around here?’

She nodded. ‘Teaching textiles and design to over-confident, twatty posh kids at St. Nicks. It’s a private school near–’

‘I know it,’ Xander said, stifling his smile.

‘Oh God, is that where you went?’

He saluted her. ‘Twatty posh kid, at your service.’

Despite her mortification, Daisy laughed. ‘It’s hardly my dream job and it’s only part-time, but they’re actually paying me to not work over the summer. Mental or what?’

‘That’s St. Nick’s for you,’ he said. ‘It’s easily the best school I went to, and there can’t be many schools who’d let you get away with having your nose pierced.’

‘True.’ Daisy touched her tiny diamond.

‘What is your dream job?’

Shrugging, she lit a cigarette. ‘I did a fashion degree because I always wanted to be a handbag designer, to work for Mulberry. I like making things.’

‘Why don’t you do it? Be the next Mulberry?’

Daisy laughed. ‘Nice dream. What do you do?’

‘Glorified rep for a six-star holiday company. We pander to the whims of rich people who want to do... well, whatever-the-hell they want to do. Last week, the clients staying at our place in Grasmere wanted to play polo.’