Chapter Eight
‘Who would have thought he was such a wanker.’
‘Me Lottie,’ Darcy said as she turned the pastry dough and rolled it thinner. ‘Why do you think I dumped him?’
‘I know you said he had attitude,’ Lottie said, stocking the scones in the front display of the bakery counter as Darcy began cutting the pastry and lining the pie tins. They were talking through the long, industrial hatch between kitchen and front shop. ‘But that was ridiculous.’
‘He was drunk,’ Darcy said.
‘I can believe it,’ Lottie said. ‘But he’s always drunk.’
‘He wasn’t drunk last night.’
‘You mean when Sloan came in and huckled Josie out?’ Lottie asked, pausing with her hand on her hip to look back at her friend. ‘What is the story there?’
‘Story?’ Darcy asked, taking her attention to her Danishes.
‘Aye,
