Free Someone Like You by Victoria Purman Page B

‘You get to sign all the cheques? I’m totally fine with that, of course you should. It’s your pub.’
    ‘No.’ Ry shook his head. ‘I won’t need to sign all the cheques. But I’m going to give you someone who will.’
    Lizzie felt a cold, hard lump of reality forming in her stomach. Why did she know what Ry was going to say?
    ‘Danny Boy.’
    Yep, he’d said it.
    ‘He’s more used to handling projects worth hundreds of millions, but I’m sure he can get used to taking a few zeros off the end of the cheques.’
    Lizzie didn’t speak. If she knew him better she would have said, ‘You. Are. Shitting. Me.’ And then slapped him on the shoulder. Instead, she just stared at him to determine if he was serious.
    He was dead serious. ‘He’s the one you need, Lizzie.’
    Lizzie could see she was stuck between a rock and another rock. She loved this idea. She wanted it. And getting it meant she had to work with Dan. Up close and personal. Did she love her idea that much? Hell, yes. So Dan was hot. He clearly didn’t think she was or, if he did, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. She sucked in a deep breath and held her shoulders strong. ‘Okay.’
    ‘And here’s the kicker.’ Ry grinned as he finished his glass of water and put it back down on the table with a satisfied plonk. ‘You’re going to ask him. And you’re not going to tell him it was my idea.’
    Most days, (oh, who was she kidding, every day), Lizzie found swearing like a shearer to be immensely satisfying. But on this particular day, it was doing zilch to alleviate her frustration. That look on Ry’s face when he’d told her what she had to do? Smug self-satisfaction, that’s what it was. He’d boxed her into a corner and he knew it. He knew she knew it. And he’d enjoyed the squeeze.
    Lizzie stomped her way along the esplanade to Dan’s, knowing the seagulls hovering overhead wouldn’t be offended by her exclamations of outrage. The very fact that she was about to ask for his help created a little pearl of annoyance in her gut. Ry had left her with no specific instructions about how she should broach the whole thing with Dan, which she knew meant that he didn’t have a clue. While he might have a brilliant business mind, Lizzie realised Ry had no idea about helping his best friend.
    Lizzie decided she could present it to Dan as a business proposition. This was simply a job, two people working together, bringing their particular skills and talents to a project with a defined time frame and a clear end point. She’d been clear with Ry and Julia. She didn’t want to do therapy or handholding or pity. Business she could do. Keep it professional. She would put it to Dan and let him decide.
    When Lizzie reached Dan’s house, she knocked fiercely. The hollow sound it made on the rickety wooden door took her back twenty years. She’d practically grown up in this house when Julia had lived here. With only a roadway and the low dunes between it and the beach, it had been the perfect summer hangout for teenage girls. She and Julia had roamed the sand hills and the cliffs of Middle Point every summer, suntanned, sun-screened and seriously boy-crazy. Chasing boys and being chased by them.
    Lizzie sighed at the memory. The only blokes who chased her these days were pensioners on the hunt for the specials menu.
    She knocked again, wishing Dan would hurry up and open the damn door so she could get this over with, quickly. She hadn’t specifically rehearsed what she might say. She was going to wing it. Once she opened her mouth, all sorts of things – planned and un planned – tended to pop out anyway so she figured there was little point in careful preparation.
    Finally, the door creaked open. The hermit of Middle Point stared down at her, wearing what appeared to be his standard uniform of boardshorts and an old T-shirt. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth humourless.
    ‘Dan,’ she said firmly, in place of hello or anything