So Are You The One For Me?

By Lizzie Steele

When her personal life took a turn for the worse Scarlett headed for the south of Spain and some much needed rest and relaxation. Having spent a few days licking her wounds she decided to embrace her time away and head for her favourite bar and there meets a rather welcome distraction in the form of David. Following on from a mutually enjoyable one night stand she thinks no more of her liaison, that is until she comes face to face with him on her return to work. What seemed to be a footloose and fancy free holiday hook up had turned into something far more complicated and intriguing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lizzie Steele
• Release date: Jul 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370651177

Lizzie Steele

This is Lizzie Steele's third book having oublished 'So Are you the One for Me? And 'So Where were We?' earlier this Year. This is the third and final installment of her Retail Romance Stories, a career she has been using as her main inspiration . She lives in Co Galway and is a Senior Retail Manager.

Book preview

‘So Are You the One for Me?’

by Lizzie Steele

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Lizzie Steele

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

by Lizzie Steele

Chapter One

Scarlett was rather restless. She’d spent the last six days at her Family’s bolt hole in the South of Spain. They had a large Villa nestled in the foot Hills of Estepona with a view of Gibraltar that never failed to take her breath away.

She’d come here on her own, as an Area Manager for a Large Retailer her life was a constant buzz of Blackberries and People pulling at her from every angle. It had been a busy year and Scarlett had fled the January slump to catch some winter sun. It had taken her three days to unwind, four to turn her phone off, five to lie in past seven and six to realise that all work and no play made Scarlett rather one dimensional.

As she lay out on one of the Loungers by the Pool she flicked through the Suir, the local English Newspaper and her attention was drawn to a happy hour in the local Irish Bar in the Port.

Scarlett had frequented O’Connell’s regularly in her early twenties spending many an afternoon and evening stuck to the Bar enjoying the atmosphere. So much so that if you look at the Wall of Fame behind the Bar she appears in many of the Photo’s. Her mind wandered to nights filled with flaming Sambuca s and fleeting kisses outside on the terrace with her latest holiday squeeze.

Scarlett’s mind wandered back to a particularly steamy encounter with a young German called Boris which culminated in her having a permanent scar on her left cheek, bum that is. Following several hours improving Anglo German relations over some vodka they took things to a more intimate setting in the Boiler Room out the back of the Bar.

Scarlett on entering the boiler room removed all her clothes, looked at her watch and informed him he had twenty minutes. Romantic it wasn’t, hot definitely. The steam added to the Frisian, and they cemented their European Treaty on the boiler itself, hence the now permanent reminder of ‘Boris the Boiler Bonk’ as he commonly known.

She sighed lifting her glasses off her head as the glare of the now setting sun was beginning to encroach on her uninterrupted view of the Ocean. A light breeze blew in from the palm trees framing the Terrace and she shivered, unconsciously rubbing her bum as she stood up to adjust her bikini.

Those carefree days jolted her into action. Another night of Rioja with bread and chorizo with her book would send her over the edge. She was buzzing in anticipation. Walking in through the open French windows, the gauze curtains lilting to and fro in the wind Scarlett s mind re awakened to the thrill of being spontaneous. She skipped across the tiles and headed into her room to prepare.

After a quick shower and changing into some bar casual clothes, fitted cornflower blue vest top, multi coloured gypsy skirt and tan wedges she applied some lip gloss and hit the road. She left her hire car behind, digging out her mother’s old bike instead. The cycle down gave her the opportunity to take in the foothills complete with wandering goats on her way into the Port.

As the road meandered down into the town Scarlett focused on the road, traffic was thick at the main interchange and one false move and her evening would be over sooner then she had anticipated. After navigating through the chaos she continued down the sea front towards her destination. It had been a few years since she’d been in O ‘Connells but if the craic had gone she had her book and the view of the Mediterranean to keep her occupied.

She free wheeled down into the Port her hair blowing freely in the wind behind her. All the bars were beginning to come to life, people ambled along the pavements, various languages mingling together to add to the buzz. She smiled to herself remembering what it was like to be carefree, before she became a Retail Dynamo.

By the time she arrived it was just after seven and as she approached she could hear laughter and music seeping out from the open doors and windows. She breathed in deeply, pulled her shoulders back and walked in.

Before she could take in her surroundings she heard a voice.

‘Well would you look who it is. Hello stranger.’

She looked to her right and standing behind the bar was Erin the Owner, originally from Connemara and never one to forget a face.

‘Well hello yourself’. Scarlett replied.

‘It must be, what, three years?’

‘Make it four.’ Scarlett leant over to plant the obligatory peck on his cheek. Always pays to keep on the right side of the Host.

‘Jaysus, your ma and da are in twice a year but we’ve seen neither sight nor sound of yourself. They were telling me your some big shot in Retail’.

‘Something likes that Erin’.

She moved over to the Bar and pulled out a stool. There were several men ranging in age at the far end, all nodded in acknowledgement and carried on with their analysis of the days Premiership Matches.

‘What will it be missy, your usual?’

Erin had a long memory.

Without hesitation he grabbed a tall glass, filled it with ice, poured a generous measure of Absolut Vodka into it and popped a small bottle of cranberry juice and placed it on the polished wood.

‘Wow that is some memory, Cheers’.

She raised her glass to toast what had been too long an absence from O Connell’s, the ocean view never failed to take her breath away.

‘So, after all this time what brings you back?’

‘I've been busy at work, needed to get away for a while’.

‘Ah now, there’s more to it than that lady. Sure we’ve not gone anywhere in four years but you obviously have, now tell Erin the real deal’.

Erin looked at her intently while polishing the glasses he’d just removed from the dishwasher. He must be 45, tall, over six feet, in his day an athlete. Played hurling for his county but these days his Galway GAA Jersey was stretched too tightly over his expanding waistline. His hair had turned salt and pepper, his eyes still piercing blue with the same hint of devilment that had always been there.

Scarlett tucked her copper hair behind her ears and drummed her hands on the bar. She’d been rumbled, but what else did she expect.

‘Fair cop Erin, I got dumped…..’

‘Langer Dan …’ Erin interrupted her. Her parents had obviously kept him up to speed with her activities. They had just returned home the day before she had arrived.

‘Yes, his name was Dan, and then two months ago he up and decided that he wasn’t ready to commit. Moved out the week before Christmas, which was nice, and here I am’.

‘He’s a Prick’.

‘If the cap fits…’ Scarlett smiled and raised her nearly empty glass to toast Dan’s impeccable timing.

They been together since the beginning of the previous year, met while Scarlett was doing a Store Visit in the Watford Store. He was in making a complaint to the Manager about the poor sound quality from his TV and how their After Sales service left much to be desired. On reflection she should have steered clear but he was tall, well dressed and cute to boot and as Scarlett had been suffering somewhat of a dry spell, by the time they both left the Store, Dan had a replacement TV and Scarlett’s number.

Scarlett sighed and nodded to Erin to fill her up, taking stock was never easy to do but now wasn’t the time. Tonight she was going to enjoy the surroundings, let herself go. Over analysing Dan’s impeccable break up timing was the last thing she needed, this wasn’t a situation that could be solved with a SWAT analysis.

‘Stick around I’ve a Stag Party due in an hour….’ Erin purred at her.

‘Stag Party?’ That piece of news took her by surprise.

‘Second Marriage, he’s well into his fifties, no aftershock and strippers for these lads. It’s all scotch and finger food. He wants it to be a quiet affair’. Erin shook his head in disgust, he was a man’s man and a stag to him was a rite of passage regardless of age.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. ‘It sounds riveting.’

‘He isn’t I can assure you but it’ll fill the Bar and the Customer is always right Lady’.

Scarlett lifted her now refilled glass and looked over to the far corner. Two tables had been pushed together and balloons attached to the Chairs with party hats stacked in the middle of the table.

‘Party Hats?’ She scoffed.

‘I know, it’s not a kid’s birthday party but sure that’s what he wants!’

‘It’s going to be a riot, not’.

‘Well at least I won’t have to get the boys out’, Erin laughed flexing his now somewhat underwhelming biceps while faking some boxing moves.

Scarlett caught a glimpse of herself in the Mirror behind the bar, her long copper hair cascaded over her shoulders, her skin glowing from a healthy dose of sun bringing out the green hue in her eyes. If she said so herself she was looking pretty ok for a quick run round the shower and change. The dark circles that normally accessorised her eyes had gone, the break in the sun relaxing her features.

‘So, how long are you gracing us with your presence for?’

‘Head home tomorrow’.

‘You’re something else, been here a while and turn up on your last night’.

‘I know but I was licking my wounds and I got fed up feeling sorry for myself in the end’.

‘Well I wouldn’t be wasting any time over your man, Dan. What a gobshite ‘.

‘Gobshite, haven’t heard that word in a while, but bang on the nail my friend’.

Scarlett was relaxing into the Bars atmosphere, the Football had now been replaced with some Christy Moore and the sun had started to recede under the horizon. By her third drink Scarlett was feeling a bit tipsy and decided that some food was in order.

‘Before the Stag arrives any chance of Some Wedges with Garlic Dip?’

‘For you Lady, no bother at all’.

Ten minutes later Scarlett was tucking into her Wedges and had struck up a light and more than welcome conversation with an ex pat from Basingstoke, Clive. He lived there in the winter every Year and came to O’Connell’s to read the Daily Mail and engage in some banter as he called it.

They’d been chatting away happily about the local alcohol measures and their pros and cons when suddenly the room filled up with a group of middle aged men. They were dressed in chino’s and crocodile motifed polo shirts of various colours .They looked like the Step ford Husbands only more craggy in appearance and well, a lot less intimidating.

‘Is that the Stag Party?’ Scarlett stuttered.

‘Looks like it’, answered Clive raising his eyebrows. Clive was a small built man with a comb over, his dedication to maintaining some hair on his head was commendable but a battle he’d lost long ago.

‘It’s more like a golf club social. I need Vodka. Clive?’ Scarlett nodded to his now empty glass.

‘Why not, I’ll have another half of bitter Erin ’.

‘Coming right up Folks’.

Scarlett scanned the now moving throng of men as they made their way to their tables. They were very subdued; stand offish even as the few gathered around the bar looked on in amusement. They were not the football type, more Glen Eagles and Cowes.

She turned her back and carried on talking to Clive who by now had moved onto the local police force and there dubious record for honesty. She found her mind wandering as the effects of the Vodka was making it more difficult for her to concentrate. Clive was a pleasant diversion but she yearned for more excitement, the alcohol had opened up her senses and she wanted fun.

As she turned to look over to the now warming up crowd in the Corner her stare was met by a pair of brooding hazel eyes. Scarlett flushed slightly at the intense look he was giving her. It made her move in her stool and she felt a small tingle in the pit of her stomach.

The owner of these eyes had escaped her notice earlier as he was by far the youngest of the Group, she reckoned around thirty five. He stood up to make his way to the bar and she saw him properly for the first time. He was over Six Foot, Broad, obviously worked out, tight dark hair with those eyes.

Scarlett knew she should stop staring but she couldn’t. He made his way over standing the far side of Clive who had missed what was unfolding. He was wearing boot cut jeans, frayed at the ends, with a fitted t shirt. It was green with a firetrap logo blazoned over the chest and leather flip flops, very casual and out of place with the golfing attire of his comrades in the corner.

‘Hi, two Corona, Two halves of Lager, Two whiskeys on Ice, One Brandy and I’ll have a Double Vodka Ice’. He said the words sliding off his tongue.

He drank vodka, they had something in common. What was she thinking? Get a grip. He glanced in her direction and smiled as he collected the tray of drinks and made his way back to the Stag Party.

As he walked away she focused on his back view, he had a high backside, one you could hold onto and definitely wouldn’t disappoint in the flesh. She angled her head rather obviously to get a better view craning round Clive in the process.

Erin leaned over the bar and tapped Scarlett on the shoulder.

‘Do you want an invitation?’

‘What are you on about.’ She purred. A wicked look crossed her face and Erin knew it well.

‘I may have been married for twenty years but I know the seduction dance anywhere lady’.

‘No, I was just looking, that’s all’. She winked at him swivelling back to grab the bar to steady her. Now was not the time to make an ungracious fall from her stool.

‘Yeah, with the view to getting some motion from that ocean’. Erin laughed loudly as he made his way down the bar to serve a couple who had come in.

The stag Party heated up as the drinks flowed and they were in full controlled swing when Clive decided it was his time to depart. Scarlett was left vulnerable at the Bar having had too much vodka and not enough Cranberry to not let her mind wander to what lay beneath the Exterior of the man who was now walking towards her.

She panicked inwardly, her stomach clenched with anticipation and fear. She was out of practice but in a fight or flight situation she knew which way she’d go, old habits die hard.

‘Is anyone sitting here?’ He asked casually, masking any emotion.

‘Eh, no, please sit down’. Scarlett was trying to remain impassive but she was far from it, her heart was beating wildly. Her legs were shaking under her skirt, the sensation thrilled her.

He slid onto the Stool his right arm brushing her left as he positioned himself in close. He smelled of soap, no heady aftershave to interfere with her already dizzy senses.

He rocked his glass back and forward in his hand and introduced himself, his eyes still staring ahead.

‘David’. He put his left hand out to introduce himself, Scarlett reciprocated and their hands clasped. A spark ignited in her; oh boy she thought this could get very interesting indeed. Neither attempted to let the contact end, heat was creeping through Scarlett and before it became too obvious she withdrew her hand.

‘Scarlett’.

‘Scarlett, that’s not one you meet every day’.

‘I’m not your average every day meet’ .The words were out before she could think. Brazen to the core once the wall came down. She licked her lips and contemplated just how out of control this was going to get. She had the bit between her teeth now and was damned if she was letting go.

‘Touché’.

‘I don’t mean to be facetious’.

‘And you’ve a big vocabulary to boot’.

He turned to look at her intently his eyes burning holes in her already warm skin. His face was too much to take in, he was too perfect. There had to be something wrong with him, he’d have an incredibly small penis or worse, he was a screamer of sexual profanities when in the throes of passion. He’d be the man shouting ’ come on bitch fuck me harder you know daddy wants it’ while she lay there counting the flowers on the wallpaper over his shoulder wondering if her