Too late to go back. In so many ways.
Yet how could Patrick regret the past few hours? How, with Maisie tangled in the sheets of his bed, her soft lashes against her freckled cheek, breathing softly. After his shower, Patrick slung a towel around his neck and lingered in the doorway of the shower room, drinking in the sight of her in his bed.
She was sleeping and her face was that of an angel. He smiled to himself: what they’d just done had been as far from angelic as it was possible to get but it had also been bloody wonderful.
She opened her eyes and smiled.
Not asleep then, and that smile was knockout. Pure happiness.
Relief flooded through his veins. While he’d showered, he’d had a vague sense of unease that she might have regretted sleeping with him. She sat up. She was still naked and sexy, rumpled and gorgeous. He cursed inwardly. He wanted her again, right now … but she pushed the duvet off her and swung her legs out of bed, pouring cold water on his hopes.
She sighed but was already on her feet. ‘I have to get back.’
‘You could shower here.’
‘I’d love to but Mum and Dad will be home soon.’ She groaned. ‘Sorry. That makes me sound as if I’m sixteen, not thirty-nine.’
He smiled and tossed the towel on a chair. ‘We could always go public …’
She squealed in horror. ‘No!’
‘OK, OK. That was mainly a joke on my part, though I’m easy on the subject.’
‘I’ve only known you a few weeks. What would people say?’
‘Do you care?’ he asked.
‘No … actually that’s hypocritical of me. Yes, I do care, but not because of any petty-minded opinions but because I value my privacy. We should be able to have some secrets.’
He believed her completely, but talk of secrets made him uneasy, although he decided to ignore his guilty conscience for now. ‘In a place as small as Gull, it’s going to be difficult to keep it under wraps anyway,’ he said, struggling to cope with the fact that Maisie was still naked.
She arched an eyebrow. ‘So this – us – is an “it”?’
‘That depends on whether you want today to be a one-off …’ He joined her by the bed and took her hand. ‘I really hope it isn’t. I don’t know about you, but I think I’d have to leave for my own health’s sake if I thought that this afternoon, all of it, was the first and last time. Spending time with you, in every way, was way too much fun not to be repeated.’
She let go of his hand and glanced down briefly. Was he imagining things or were her cheeks pink? He reached up to touch her face and found it soft and warm.
‘Maisie, I think you’re blushing.’
‘No, I am not.’ She rolled her eyes at herself and groaned. ‘But, yes, today was fun. It was great and I want to do it again.’
He pointed at the bed. ‘Right here and now?’
‘No. You know I don’t mean now. However much I want to spend the rest of the day with you, I have to go. It’ll be dark soon.’ She batted him on the arm and moved away but he could tell she was still smiling from her body language. He’d made her happy and that meant a lot to him. Even though, as she pointed out, they’d barely known each other a month, he cared about how she felt – and how he made her feel. His stomach knotted. Paddy boy, you could get in a right old mess if you’re not careful … Maybe, a voice whispered in his head, you already are …
Maisie rooted around the tangle of clothes on the floor and gathered up her jeans and Patrick’s sweatshirt. ‘Argh. Where are my knickers?’
She pulled the duvet back off the bed and shot an enquiring glance at him. ‘Patrick?’
He savoured the sight of her body a second longer before replying. ‘On the sofa?’
He knew damn well they were. He’d thrown them on the couch himself. He could have found them for her minutes ago but he wanted to squeeze out every second of her scurrying around his room in the nude. Damn, he’d need another plunge in that freezing pool at this rate.
She put her pants on and wriggled into skinny jeans. ‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing. Just enjoying the reverse striptease.’
She glared at him then burst out laughing. She had always been beautiful to him but this was a new, flirty, flippant Maisie. A Maisie with the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders for a couple of hours.
She put her top on. Patrick found her socks under the edge of the bed and handed them over.
‘Thanks.’
‘You’ll need these.’ He held out her trainer. ‘Here.’
She gawped in amazement as he lifted her foot into his lap and slipped the trainer over her toe and heel.
‘You don’t have to …’
‘I want to. Shh.’
She wiggled her foot inside and to his surprise, let him slip the other shoe on. A small, half-secret smile spread over her lips. He wondered what she was thinking then realised it was impossible to know what Maisie really thought about anything. As long as this hadn’t been the last time, that was all he needed to know.
‘When can we do this again?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know … maybe tomorrow. Away from Gull, if we can both get away together.’
‘I have rugby training tomorrow night at the community centre field on St Saviour’s.’
She hesitated then smiled. ‘And I’m seeing Jess. We could meet at the Flower Farm. I’ll let her know. She won’t tell. What about Will?’
‘I haven’t known him long but he doesn’t seem like the gossipy type.’ Patrick smiled.
‘I think we can trust him, I’ll tell her tomorrow evening and we’ll arrange to meet later.’
He smiled as she reached to kiss him. That soft, hot mouth, the scent of her … her skin and eyes seemed to shimmer with post-sex radiance. Jesus, he’d be climbing the walls until they were alone again tomorrow.
‘See you,’ she said, and unlocked the door. She peered outside to check the coast was clear and was gone.
He shoved his fingers through his damp hair. The room was quiet. It was dark now so he lit the table lamp. He sat down on the bed and sighed. The room still smelled of her – of them and of his guilt.
He lay on his bed, turning over the ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ and bargaining with himself until he heard the voices of Ray and Hazel as they walked around the side of the pub. Ray was grumbling and telling Hazel not to fuss and that he was perfectly capable of helping out and that Maisie needed the support. The back door to the inn closed and he was on his own again.
What good would it do, he reasoned, to ruin Maisie’s happiness and his own when there was no actual need to upset her? He’d be gone in a few months. Why bring the house crashing down and making everyone, including himself, miserable? Life was too short – Greg was always telling him that. And anyway, what was wrong with a few little white lies, when they hadn’t – and couldn’t – hurt anyone?