The Date
One Week Later – Friday
FOR A GIRL WHO didn’t want anyone to know how interested she was in a guy, I was way too invested in my appearance this morning. I’d put on some waterproof mascara and a slick of clear lip-gloss, then carefully eased out the humid frazzles from my long red hair with a deep conditioning treatment and swept it up into a high ponytail. I was in my electric blue bikini, which Abbie said made my blue eyes sparkle. I huffed out a deep breath as I thought of him. We’d gone from looking and smiling at each other, to nodding as a way of acknowledging each other, to finally saying “Hi” as he jogged past. Multiple times a day. Abbie was right, anyone with his physique didn’t need to jog half as much as he did on a daily basis. The thought that he might be doing it to see me made my tummy flutter with nerves and excitement.
I was extra nervous today. We were flying home on Sunday evening, so we only had two nights left. For all I knew, he might already have gone home himself and I was making all of this effort for nothing. I was surprised at the pang of disappointment I felt at the thought of not seeing him again. Then I started to wonder if he really was interested, or if he was just being polite. He didn’t know we weren’t leaving until Sunday and he had no way of knowing how to contact me once we did go. Maybe I had just let Abbie blow this up into something it wasn’t, got my hopes up for nothing. I sighed and grabbed my beach towel and headed out of the villa, skirting our private pool to head down the steps and out of our gate onto the beach. Abbie was already stretched out sunbathing, covered in a black kaftan, which made me giggle.
We’d spent Tuesday at a gorgeous lagoon, which had a waterpark, and Abbie had come away covered in bruises from her water escapades and an encounter with an over-amorous dolphin named Mahi, the only action she’d seen all holiday. She’d hardly been able to walk the last two days, and had been covering herself, and her now purple bruises, up in case people thought I’d been physically abusing her.
‘It wasn’t funny the first time you laughed at me wearing this to sunbathe, and it’s not getting any funnier,’ she grumbled as she sat surveying the beach, probably looking out for my jogger.
‘We should have just wrapped you in that burka blanket, like on the plane. At least people wouldn’t question why you aren’t in your bikini.’
‘They’d question why we came on a sunbathing holiday when I couldn’t even show anything but my eyes.’
‘True, but you do look out of place even wearing that. Everyone’s panting from the heat and wearing as little as possible, and you’re in that with a towel covering your lower legs,’ I observed as I slipped onto my bed next to her and adjusted my boobs, making them look as pert and attractive as possible in my top. ‘So, any sightings yet?’
‘No, but it’s not eleven a.m. yet. He’s regular as clockwork. I’m telling you, he’s in the Army or something, he’s very regimented.’
‘Explains the body,’ I nodded as my eyes darted up and down the beach, hoping he’d break his routine and appear any moment. Abbie threw off her towel and swung her bruised legs down as she swivelled to sit on the edge of the bed.
‘Ok, I’m fed up with being stuck in the “Hi” zone. If you want to take this a step further, you’re going to have to make a move,’ she said seriously. I shot her a terrified look. I didn’t “make moves.” It wasn’t polite for a lady to initiate contact. The man had to do that. ‘Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s not ladylike. God forbid a man would think you fancied him. If it got out that you’d let it be known you were up for it, it would send cataclysmic shock waves through high society,’ she mocked, knowing my insecurities far too well.
‘It would, well my parents anyway,’ I stated firmly.
‘You’re twenty-eight years old, Georgie Basset,’ Abbie reminded me, then chopped two of her fingers at me repeatedly.
‘What’s that supposed to be?’
‘I’m cutting the invisible apron strings, see?’ she said, repeating the gesture. ‘You’re a grown woman who lives alone. You’re fully capable of making your own choices in a suitor and letting him know you’d be up for a date if he’s interested. When he jogs past today, you’re going to stand up and go and talk to him.’
‘And say what?’ I uttered in horror, my mouth going dry at the thought of even trying to speak.
‘Do I look like I have all of the answers? Which of us is on an “escaping her life and rubbish taste in men” holiday?’
‘You don’t have rubbish taste in men at all. Miller is perfect for you. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your own book and go and talk to him, instead of waiting for him to make the first move, again,’ I huffed, totally exasperated with her. She still hadn’t told me how she was feeling about what had happened between them. I mimed a pair of snipping scissors back at her. ‘Cutting your avoidance strings.’
‘I’ll give you avoidance strings,’ she exclaimed, attacking my fingers with hers. I giggled as we finger scissored and battled each other, then took a sharp gasp as I saw him coming into view, jogging in slow motion, the light breeze ruffling his hair and the sun forming a halo behind his head.
‘Wow,’ I sighed dreamily, quickly reaching up to make sure my hair hadn’t expanded into an afro already with the heat.
‘See, told you,’ Abbie added as she flicked a glance at her watch. ‘Spot on eleven a.m. Come on, stand up, don’t sit there like a lump of lard,’ she ordered as she quickly lay back and repositioned her towel.
‘Lump of lard?! Thanks very much,’ I complained, looking down to check out my body. I was in pretty good shape. I had a slight swell to my tummy I’d rather wasn’t there, and was totally unfit despite being slim, but I’d never had hang-ups about my body. My verbal skills with a hot guy were a whole other issue.
‘Still sitting and he’s getting closer,’ she warned, waiting a beat and then adding, ‘and closer still.’
‘My brain isn’t communicating with my legs yet,’ I uttered in a panic.
‘Communicate faster, or he’ll pass you with another “Hi” and it will be twenty minutes before he does the return trip. Twenty more minutes of you getting worked up about speaking to him, and me getting worked up about neither of you actually speaking more than one word to each other!’
She was right, I knew she was right. He was approaching fast and already looking my way with a dazzling smile on his face, all thoughts of checking his watch every few strides forgotten. He might be flying home today, this could be the second to last time I was ever going to see him. That thought alone powered me up into an unflattering stance, legs spread either side of the sun lounger. Abbie giggled in the background as I hastily tried to clamber over it and strike a more sexy and alluring pose. He slowed down, his hands dropping to his slim hips, fingers angled to draw attention to his ridiculously defined Apollo’s V and that … mountaineering expedition that would have made even Scott of the Antarctic reconsider his career choice.
‘Go on, sweetie,’ Abbie urged under her breath.
‘Hi there,’ I called, then stalled as I tried to think of something else to say. Anything that wasn’t “You’re so hot” while I drooled like a psychiatric patient. I cursed myself as I struck out and remained silent. Well that was progress. A whole extra word tacked onto “Hi.”
‘Hi there,’ came his deep gravelly voice as he broke away from the lapping water’s edge and slowly walked towards me. I gulped as he got closer and slowly lifted up his mirrored shades. It was like a bolt of lightning struck me straight in the chest, and I struggled to keep my balance as I was hit with the deep azure blue of his eyes. Like he wasn’t already a weakness of mine, he had to top off that perfected package with my favourite of eye colours. I licked my dry lower lip, desperately trying to think of something to say as he approached and stretched out his hand. ‘Weston, Weston Argent.’
‘Gorgeous,’ I replied, putting my hand in his. I felt faint as he wrapped his fingers tightly around my hand, which quivered from the sensation that sparked all of my nerve endings. Oh shit. Had I just said gorgeous out loud? ‘Georgie, I mean my name is Georgie, not gorgeous. It’s a bit presumptuous of me to call myself gorgeous, isn’t it? And I wasn’t saying it about you, no. No, no, no. Not that you’re not gorgeous. I mean you are, obviously, but … oh God, I’m rambling. I’m rambling, aren’t I?’ I uttered, my cheeks flaming.
‘For the record, I think you are,’ he stated, still holding my hand, which was doing nothing to calm my racing pulse. He was so close I could smell him, a deep, sensual musk with a light, zingy fragrance of lime.
‘I’m sorry, I’m not usually a rambler. Verbal or walking. They have a rambling group in our village back home, they take in all the sights of Dilbury and the Welsh hills, but it’s full of old fogies. I actually think you need to be old to qualify to join them. They probably have some sort of “can you get over this stile with a Zimmer frame in more than ten minutes” test and they don’t let you join if you can do it quicker. So, as I was saying … they’re old ramblers. And I’m … not.’ What was I waffling on about? His hypnotic eyes, even bluer than the clear ocean behind him, were all I could focus on.
‘I meant the gorgeous part,’ he smiled as he finally released my hand, then lifted his and ran it through his thick hair. We stood looking at each other still, blue eyes locked, lips parted as we both caught our breath. He thought I was gorgeous? I wonder if he knew I thought the same about him. Then again, what woman wouldn’t? He must know how attractive he is. My eyes started to wander over his chest and abs, and I heard a discreet cough from Abbie.
‘Jogging?’ It was the first and most obvious thing that came to my mind as I snapped my eyes back up to his face.
‘What about it?’ he asked, frowning as if that had been the last thing he was expecting me to say.
‘That was a “jogging?” As in “you’re out jogging?”, rather than a “jogging, what’s that all about?”’ I stuttered.
‘I don’t jog, I run,’ he replied, a strange look crossing his beautiful face.
‘Same thing, isn’t it?’
‘Actually no, it’s not.’ He bit down on his lower lip at the same time as I did on mine. How had I got so off track?
‘Well, what’s the difference?’
‘You … want me to explain … the difference between jogging … and running?’ he asked hesitantly, looking at me like I was stupid. Which right now I was. This was exactly why I didn’t talk to hot men.
‘Well … I know it’s faster than a jog, which is faster than a ramble, or say a walk, but I’m not really sure where a sprint would come in on that sliding scale of speed. Is that faster than a run? And walks, jogs, rambles, runs, and sprints would all be speed relative, wouldn’t they? I mean, if you’re old with really short legs, you wouldn’t go as fast, unless you’re the hotel porter. He’s the exception to the rule as he goes like shit off a shovel!’
Damn it, this was getting seriously awkward. How did we get from lightly flirting to discussing the ins and outs of various types of speed on foot? I flicked a glance over at Abbie, who was trying not to giggle. She rolled her eyes at me and shook her head. I looked back at him and saw he’d taken a step back from me, both hands planted firmly on his hips and a strange look on his face. The same look had been on Dai Owens face when he’d fled from me. At an unmistakable sprint.
‘Are you staying here? If you are, I wouldn’t recommend the mashed potatoes, they’re like lumpy school mash. If you flicked them at the wall, they’d probably stick like that awful woodchip wallpaper from the seventies,’ I added, desperately trying to find another topic.
‘Lumpy … mash,’ he repeated, taking another step back and looking longingly up the beach, like he was trying to plot his fastest escape route and wishing he was anywhere but here, his illusions of me shattered completely.
‘Hard carrots too, and don’t get me started on what they do to their peas.’ Oh my God, what was I saying? I shot a pleading look at Abbie, who was nearly doubled up with silent laughter. I was dying here. And scared as I was, I didn’t want him to walk, jog, run, or use any other method of travel by foot that we hadn’t yet discussed to get away from me. I flicked my eyes back to his and he lifted his hand, coughed, and glanced away again, before shuffling his feet and looking down at them. I bit my lip and dug my toes in the hot powdery sand, the suddenly awkward atmosphere smothering us like a heavy sea fog rolling in. ‘They do nice fries though,’ I finally added, desperately trying to fill in the silence.
‘Nice … fries? Ok, well I’ll bear that in mind if I ever eat here.’
I nodded and swallowed a lump in my throat, both of us looking anywhere but at each other.
‘Why don’t you?’ Abbie suggested. ‘I’m not feeling very well and Georgie is going to be eating on her own tonight. You could take her to dinner instead and see what you think?’
‘I … I … don’t think I can, I’m afraid. It’s my last night here and I really need to pack,’ Weston replied, flashing me a guilty look. My stomach sank like a stone. I’d put him off me, with all that bloody waffling about speed and under or overcooked vegetables. The prospect of packing his tiny and ridiculously tight underwear was more appealing than having dinner with me.
‘Then just cancel one of your jogs, sorry, runs this afternoon so you can pack, and then you’ll be free to take her to dinner,’ Abbie insisted firmly. ‘We all know that the only reason you come past so often is because you’re checking her out. You find her hot, she finds you hot. Go to dinner, walking at a leisurely pace, as Georgie doesn’t do rambling, jogging, running, or sprinting as they make her wheeze. Just avoid ordering the mash, carrots, and peas, and see what comes of it.’
‘Abbie,’ I scolded, my cheeks turning pink at her directness, as well as outing my feelings about him and my level of unfitness.
‘I guess I could, if you want to?’ Weston asked, forcing me to look back at him. I couldn’t tell from his facial expression if he was desperate for me to say yes or no.
‘Well, we could, you know, if you want to?’ I replied.
‘He wants, you want, so that’s settled. Be here for eight and she’ll be ready. Nice to meet you, Weston, have a safe trip home tomorrow,’ Abbie said firmly, making sure the conversation was drawn to a close.
‘Thanks,’ he replied, looking a little shell-shocked at being railroaded into being stuck with me for the night. ‘So, I guess I’ll see you at eight then, Georgie?’
‘Eight, Weston,’ I whispered breathlessly, loving the sound of my name rolling off his full lips in that sexy tone. This time his reaction to my response was unmistakable. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard and nodded before dropping his glasses back down to shield his eyes. Seconds later, he was kicking up the sand as he powered away from us, back in the direction he came from, leaving me with all sorts of whirling emotions.
‘Jesus, talk about painful!’ Abbie roared, dabbing tears of laughter from her eyes. ‘Waffling on about jogging and food. You weren’t joking about being a wreck around a hot guy, were you?’
‘No,’ I groaned as I followed Weston’s progress as he slowly disappeared from sight around the curve of the beach. ‘How am I going to get through dinner without you? It will be a disaster.’
‘Pretend you’re chatting to me, Charlie, or Daphne. He’s a man, not a foreign species,’ she tutted, making it sound so easy, as she sat up to grab her drink.
‘From where I’m standing, he might as well be from Mars,’ I muttered.
Abbie stood on the veranda shooing me off at a minute to eight. I glanced down at myself, hoping I’d not misjudged the sort of outfit I’d need, as there was no guarantee he was taking me to the hotel restaurant here. Why would he after I’d effectively slated their food? He obviously wasn’t staying at our hotel as we’d not seen him at any time other than his beach runs, so maybe he’d take me to his hotel.
I’d put on a pair of silver toe-post flats with a white and grey dip-dyed maxi dress, and had a pretty, shimmering silver pashmina draped across my shoulders. I’d even gone to the hairdressers for a blow-dry to leave me with soft, sleek waves cascading down my back, and had a matte silver mani-pedi. I forced myself to skirt the pool and head to the gate, dragging a whole load of nerves behind me as I waved to Abbie over my shoulder. When I looked back, my breath caught in my throat. He was already waiting, sitting on the edge of my sun lounger.
He looked just as hot as he did in his running shorts. He was sporting a pair of pristine black cargo trousers, black flip-flops, and a white linen shirt, the lower part of the sleeves rolled up to expose a dusting of dark hair on his strong, tanned forearms. A light beige linen jacket lay on the bed next to him, and his gently tousled dark hair was swept back, slightly damp as if he’d just showered. I could smell lime on him more strongly and decided it must be his body wash. I’d never really liked the smell before, but mixed with his natural cologne, I could lick it right off him. He stood up quickly when he heard the gate being opened and turned to face me with a nervous smile.
‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he quipped.
‘Hi,’ I giggled, equally nervously, but pleased he was attempting to break the awkwardness of earlier. ‘Georgie is fine. Short for Georgina actually, but only my parents call me that. Do I call you West?’
‘I’d prefer Weston, and it’s not short for anything,’ he replied. We stood a few feet apart, obviously not sure what the etiquette was when you were seeing someone you fancied with their clothes on for the first time.
He stepped forward at the same time as I did, and when I saw his hand moving towards me, I assumed he was going to shake my hand again. I stuck mine out and looked down to return the gesture, just as he placed that hand on my hip instead and obviously leaned in to kiss my cheek. There was a loud crack as his face ricocheted off the top of my head, both of us hissing at the contact. The air was filled with garbled apologies on both sides, as I rubbed my scalp and he clutched the top of his nose. He gestured to the path that ran between my villa and the next one along and we headed up it, then hooked a right to walk through the gardens towards the main hotel reception.
‘So,’ we said at once, then each let out an uncomfortable laugh. This wasn’t getting any easier.
‘Ladies first,’ he suggested, slowing down to walk at my pace, his bare forearm occasionally brushing against mine and sending a sizzle of chemistry surging through my body. My physical attraction to him wasn’t in any doubt, that was for sure. And I was convinced, judging by the way his eyes kept darting to look at my chest and his tongue swept over his lower lip, that it wasn’t one sided.
‘I’m sorry about earlier. I’m not usually a rambler, but it’s been a while since I’ve spoken to an attractive man and it makes me rather nervous.’
‘And when you’re nervous, you ramble?’ he asked.
‘My conversation skills are normally a little more refined.’
‘Mine too. I guess I was thrown, it wasn’t really how I imagined our first conversation going.’
‘You imagined?’ I asked, looking up at him through my lashes. My heart was beating so loudly in my chest, I was sure he’d hear it. I was a good five foot eight and I had to look up at him, which made him at least six foot two.
‘A little too much, as that tumble onto my face the first time I looked at you can attest,’ he chuckled, though no hint of embarrassment showed on his cheeks.
‘Tumble?’ I questioned, carrying on the pretence that I hadn’t noticed.
‘I know you saw, though you were very gallant trying to save my pride by pretending to read your book.’
‘Am I that transparent?’ I laughed, embarrassed that he’d known all along I’d been checking him out.
‘You’d have fooled most people, but I’m not most people.’
‘Meaning?’
‘My last job meant that I needed to read people and my surroundings well.’
‘Abbie thinks you’re in the forces, she says you’ve got that look about you.’
‘Then she’s observant too. I was a captain in the British Army.’
‘She’ll be so pleased she was right. What did you do in the Army?’ I asked as we stepped under the cover of the large roof that spanned reception and the central fountain. ‘I mean, I know you fight, but there’s all kinds of regiments and brigades that specialise in different things.’ He hesitated for a moment, a slight frown appearing on his face, and his muscles immediately tensed up. I wasn’t a great reader of body language myself, but even I could pick up on the waves of negative energy that were suddenly radiating off him.
‘Actually, that’s one topic I’d rather not discuss,’ he stated flatly.
‘I see, one of those “I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you” kind of 007 deals. Enough said. Can you tell me what you do now?’ I asked, hoping I’d eased whatever stress my original question had obviously just brought him.
‘I’m a personal trainer,’ he replied, the enthusiasm and warmth returning to his voice immediately. ‘I’m really into keeping fit and it seemed a natural progression to help others.’
‘It’s paid off,’ I purred, imagining his body again, like I had so many times over the last ten or so days since I’d first seen it. He let out a soft laugh as he smiled at me, making me blush. Well, this was going better than earlier.
‘Good evening, Mrs. Carter,’ waved the receptionist, his “Mrs.” coming out more of a Mieces Carter.
‘Ermmm, evening,’ I called back, screwing up my face in a grimace and hoping Weston hadn’t heard him.
‘Mrs. Carter?’ he questioned, an edge of disapproval to his tone as he ground to a halt.
‘Slip of the tongue, I’m sure. Are we going to the restaurant on the beach?’ I asked, hoping to quickly move the conversation along.
‘Mieces Carter,’ the receptionist called again. ‘The manager want to let you know he book private dining tomorrow for last night of your honeymoon. Very special dinner for very special couple.’
‘You’re married? And on your honeymoon?’ Weston spluttered, flashing me a frankly damning look.
‘No, to both questions. It’s just this whole huge misunderstanding, and after trying to argue our case, Abbie and I just let them think it to have an easy life. I couldn’t be further from married.’
‘You’re pretending to be a married gay couple for the reception staff?’ he asked, seeming unconvinced.
‘I know it sounds crazy, we’ve told them so many times we’re not married, but it seems there was a mix up with our booking and we got the honeymoon-package. Look, look,’ I urged, holding up my left hand. ‘No ring, wedding or engagement, or hint of a dent in my skin or a tan line.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Carter,’ nodded the hotel porter as he rushed past with a trolley full of cases.
‘Well, he thinks you’re married, too.’
‘Everyone here thinks we’re married. I’ve even got used to being called Mrs. Carter instead of Miss Bassett, not to mention sharing a super king-sized honeymoon bed with Abbie. Honestly, if you’d come with your friend and they’d made the same mistake, you’d be a married gay person right now. There’s no telling them.’
‘There’s no way I’d share my bed with another man, friend or not,’ Weston scoffed. ‘And I don’t want to get in the middle of anything here, Georgie.’
‘You’re not, I promise, we’re just best friends. I’m not into women and I’m not a cheater. I couldn’t do that to someone, not after …’ I broke off and took a deep breath. It wasn’t ideal telling a guy you were on a first date with that you were so undesirable, your fiancé had cheated on you.
‘Not after?’ he coaxed, tucking two fingers under my chin to lift my embarrassed gaze up to meet his curious one. Was it normal to feel a spark of heat every time a man touched you? It had never happened to me until now.
‘Someone did it to me, they hurt me badly and that’s something I’d never want anyone else to experience,’ I whispered, the memory of the pain I’d felt lancing my heart again.
‘I’m sorry to hear that and I promise you not all men are cheats. There are still a few good ones out there amongst us,’ he said softly, still holding my chin.
‘How am I supposed to spot them though? Most men come on far too strong, it’s all “Let’s have sex” on the first date, or “Let’s move in together” after a few weeks. I don’t want all that pressure. I just want easy, you know? Someone I can have dinner or go out to the movies with, maybe have the odd romantic weekend away. Where we can get together at the drop of a hat if we feel like it, without it being some huge deal that has to be planned in meticulous detail. Greg was a “let’s plan everything” kind of guy and I hated that.’
‘I get that,’ he nodded, immediately dropping his hand. I was surprised at how much I missed his touch the moment he did. ‘You don’t want the complications of a guy who rushes things, or a long-distance relationship. You want some spontaneity in your life, while taking a relationship slowly.’
‘Exactly. I just want easy for a while,’ I confirmed, pleased he got it. So many guys didn’t. I swallowed hard when I realised that we were so close, if he dipped his head right now he could be kissing me. I was confused. I’d just said I didn’t want to rush things, my head believed that one hundred percent, so why was I so desperate for him to press his full lips against mine? He blinked a few times as we just stared at each other, our mouths so close our outward breaths were already mating. We quickly backed away from each other at the same time, whatever soft and yearning look I thought I’d just seen in his eyes evaporating in a second.
‘I’m guessing the kind of relationship you’d like next isn’t a topic you want to discuss in detail with a virtual stranger. So how about we make a move and go and have dinner. I hired a Jeep as I heard there’s a really authentic Mexican place up the coast, assuming you like Mexican food?’
‘As long as they don’t try cooking mashed potatoes, carrots, or peas, I do,’ I smiled, grateful for the change of intense topic to a lighter subject.
‘Let’s go then,’ he confirmed, placing his hand in the small of my back to guide me through the hotel and out towards the circular drive, where the cars and coaches pulled around another large fountain in the middle. We walked towards an open-top Jeep and he gallantly helped me up into the passenger seat and passed me my seatbelt before shutting my door. I frowned as he walked around the front of the car, tossing his jacket onto the back seat before climbing in next to me, his body suddenly taut and tense again. The atmosphere had changed, a subtle shift from us moving into comfortable “getting to know each other” conversation, to an uncomfortable silence again, just like on the beach when Abbie had intervened. Had I said too much about my relationship concerns and come across as a woman with a bag full of issues? Was that why he’d backed off?
He started up the engine and pulled out, heading up the hotel drive to the main road. When I glanced over at him, he seemed so focussed and controlled, just like he had when he was running, and I didn’t want to distract him. As he picked up speed when we hit the main road, I began to regret not having tied my hair back as I felt it lifting and falling, pulling the occasional bit away from my mouth where it had stuck to my lip-gloss. Wind-whipped, open-top car hair was an extra level worse than hat hair, and no self-respecting woman would be seen dead with either style.
‘Shit,’ I muttered under my breath, then winced as a large piece caught me in the eye, making it water. Great, that was all I needed, my mascara running too.
‘Everything ok?’ he called, breaking out of his concentrated stare at the road ahead.
‘It’s a bit breezy for hair down in a moving open-top vehicle,’ I called back, my eye twitching as I reached up to scrape my unusually ruffled hair back. I used its length to tie it into a neat knot at the base of my neck.
‘Why are you winking at me?’
‘I’m not winking.’
‘You are, you’re doing it now.’
‘I’m blinking. A piece of hair may have just lacerated my eyeball and it stings.’
‘Sorry. It’s been so humid, I thought an open-top Jeep would be a nice way of cooling down with a gentle breeze, but the wind seems to be picking up somewhat. There’s a map in the glove box, if you don’t mind?’ he asked, flicking his chin towards it. ‘We need to turn off somewhere down here on the left, I marked the restaurant on it.’
‘Ok, but I’d better warn you I failed my Duke of Edinburgh orienteering at school. I barely know my left from my right.’
‘I’m sure you can’t be that bad.’
‘Trust me, I am,’ I confirmed, as I opened it up and gripped the edges, squinting through my non-watering eye. I found where he’d marked the restaurant with a cross and followed the trail backwards to see where it joined the main road, then followed that back to the hotel. I’d just released my grip from the left-hand side of the map and was using my finger to start counting which turn left it was when there was a ripping sound, and my vision was lost as a section of the map plastered itself to my face before being sucked up and out of the top of the Jeep. I gasped and looked down to see I was left holding a fragment of map in my right hand, the area we were travelling in, let alone the hotel and restaurant, now nowhere to be seen. ‘Ermmm, Houston, we have a problem,’ I advised, waving what was left of the map in his direction.
‘Damn it,’ he muttered, a sexy furrow forming in his brow. ‘Can you remember which turn it was?’
‘Four or five, I think?’
‘Well, we just passed two, so let’s try four first and if I remember correctly, it’s a straight run all the way down to the beach.’
‘Do you have a roof for this thing?’ I yelled over the noise of the throbbing engine, bouncing suspension, and sound of the wind, which was really picking up speed. Palm trees along the roadside were starting to sway considerably.
‘No, and it looks like we’ve got a storm coming in,’ he grimaced, flicking his head up ahead to where a bolt of white lightening split the dark purple sky.
‘Do you think we should turn back? We could eat at the hotel,’ I suggested.
‘From what you’ve said, it doesn’t exactly sound that appetising. Besides, we’ll be there in a few minutes and the storm will probably pass over as we’re eating. Trust me, Georgie.’ He flashed me a reassuring smile, and I gave him a weak one in return.
Trust him? I didn’t even know him. In fact, I was starting to question my judgement again. Who went on a date with a guy they didn’t know, in a foreign country, when he was taking her to God knows where and nobody even knew. Abbie thought we were eating at the hotel, she had no idea we’d left or where I was. What if he was some crazed murderer who was going to bury my body under a cactus somewhere in the Mexican desert? Did Mexico even have a desert? We’d rushed here so fast I’d had no time to do any research on the country. When Weston turned down a rough-looking dirt track, my heart moved up into my mouth. Where the hell was he taking me? I must be crazy going off with him blindly like this. I screamed as a particularly nasty gust of wind grabbed my silver pashmina and sucked that into the darkness that surrounded us to join the rest of the map.
‘Are you ok? You’ve gone rather pale,’ he yelled as he swerved to avoid a pot hole in the road, making me dig my fingers into the fabric of the seat below me.
‘Actually no, I’m not. I seriously think I’ve got a hair-related eye injury, my favourite pashmina just got whipped out of the car into the Mexican night, and right now I’m wondering if you’re planning on burying my body out here in the middle of nowhere with your other unsuspecting victims after you’ve killed me.’
‘Do I look like a serial killer?’
‘I don’t know, never having met one before, that I’m aware of anyway. But they say that they all look normal, good-looking even. Well, I might as well just take your mug shot now and put it on the “Wanted in connection with the murder of Georgie Basset” posters. Hard to entice some poor, unsuspecting woman to follow you to her inevitable death when you have a face like a slapped arse, I’d imagine. If it was October instead of April right now, I’d think I was in some horrible Halloween slasher movie. The good-looking murderer takes his victim out on a wild and stormy night and makes her dig her own grave before burying her alive. I bet you’ve got torches and spades and all kinds of digging paraphernalia in the back, Dexter style, haven’t you?’ I demanded, resisting the urge to flash a glance over my shoulder to confirm my suspicions as panic started to flood my system. I had seriously shitty judgement in men, as my relationship with arsehole Greg would attest.
‘Are you serious right now?’ Weston asked, giving me a quizzical glance.
‘Look, look,’ I yelled, gesturing wildly into the night as my panic levels started to rise and I tried not to hyperventilate. ‘Nothing but bushes, cactus, cactuses, cacti, or whatever a whole bunch of horribly prickly-looking and useless plants are called. And there’s loads of palm trees that probably have coconuts you could use to bash in my skull, and tonnes of sandy soil that you could cover my dead body in. My God, what was I thinking coming out here alone with you?’ I cried in anguish.
‘You look like you’re about to have a panic attack. Take a few slow breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, to calm yourself down. I’m not a serial killer, Georgie.’
‘Prove it,’ I demanded, gripping the seat even harder as the wind really started howling around us. More lightening lit up the sky and the rumble of thunder shook the air around us, only enhancing the scary atmosphere and scenario I’d just built up in my head. My heart had decided a sprint was faster than a run, and it was going flat out, right how I wished my legs were, back in the direction of the hotel and safety.
‘Prove I’m not a serial killer? How the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s not like I can give you evidence of all the people I’ve met and haven’t killed in the next minute,’ he shouted, shooting me an incredulous look. I swallowed hard as I looked at those blue eyes of his, eyes that made my body react to him in an instant, despite my head screaming at me to throw myself out of this moving vehicle and try and make a run for it. His face softened as he realised that I wasn’t joking, I really was scared. ‘Tell me what to do. Tell me what will make you calmer right now, because I don’t want to put that look on any woman’s face, Georgie, ever. I promise you that you’re safe with me. I’d never hurt a woman, it goes against my moral compass. Look, perfect timing, we’re here,’ he urged and pointed up ahead.
I risked taking my eyes off his, as he could hardly do anything while he had his hands on the wheel trying to steady the Jeep, which was being buffeted. He needed to focus on keeping us on the road if he didn’t want to end up dead too. I let out a sigh of relief to see he wasn’t lying. Sure enough, there was a restaurant, with lots of dusty cars parked up in front of it. The lights shining from inside, where I could see lots of patrons eating and talking, warmed me up and made me relax somewhat.
‘I’m thinking creative writer.’
‘What?’ I looked back at him confused, breathing deeply to try and slow down the fast beat of my heart.
‘Your profession. With your crazy and vivid imagination, creative writer.’
‘Definitely not,’ I replied with a shake of my head as he pulled into the car park and my nerves started to settle.
‘I’m assuming, given your rambling tendencies, that you aren’t a newscaster or weather girl.’
‘No.’ I let out a small chuckle, pleased he was using some humour to lighten the mood. A man needed a good sense of humour around me. ‘I’m a dog groomer,’ I replied proudly. I hated saying that when my parents were in earshot, knowing they’d be shooting me a disapproving look.
‘I’d never have guessed that.’
‘Well, I’ve always loved dogs. They’re so trusting and giving, they never hold back on showing you affection and how much you mean to them, and they’re so loyal and fiercely protective when they bond with you. How about you? Cats or dogs?’
‘Definitely dogs,’ he nodded as he slid into a space and pulled on the handbrake. That was a good sign. I never trusted someone who didn’t like dogs. Greg had been a cat lover. That was another indication that we were incompatible that I’d totally missed. ‘So, do you trust me enough to come inside for some fajitas, or would you rather I call you a cab to take you back to the safety of the hotel?’
‘I guess we could go in and eat,’ I shrugged. We were here and I was hungry. Plus, he was so intriguing, I wanted to know more about him.
‘It’s the face that does it, makes them fall for me every time,’ he grinned with a flirtatious wink. ‘Little does Georgie, my next hapless heroine, realise that I’ve led her to a well-known hang out for Mexican cannibals, where she’ll be the meal. I’m thinking she’ll make a very tasty enchilada.’
‘Shut up,’ I laughed, slapping his solid shoulder. ‘Now you’re just being mean, making fun of me.’
‘Maybe, but at least you’re laughing now and not screaming or fainting.’
He guided me into the welcome warmth of the cosy restaurant, and it was a few hours before he showed me out and reversed the car out of the dusty car park.
The storm had passed overhead, the wind had died down, the lightening had moved out to the horizon, and the rumble of thunder sounded far off in the distance. The air was heavy and smelled damp though, and I had a feeling it was going to rain any moment. I gave Weston a contemplative look as we pulled back onto the main road, heading back towards the hotel. I’d never met anyone quite like him. At times, he was so relaxed, fun and easy to talk to. He’d made me laugh a number of times during the excellent dinner. But then he’d suddenly withdraw into himself or go to another place, looking almost as if he felt bad for having so much fun. Those moments had sucked the energy out of the room, conversation had stalled, and we’d sat in uncomfortable silence, until I’d got so nervous, I’d started rambling about anything and everything, and slowly he’d come back from wherever his mind had drifted to.
While he was obviously attracted to me physically, I still wasn’t sure if he really liked me, or if he was just playing along as he’d been stuck with me for the night. I wondered what he’d seen or experienced in the Army that made him so guarded and secretive. He’d hardly shared any personal information with me at all. In fact, I’d done most of the talking. I’d even told him all about my engagement and Greg cheating on me, to explain exactly why I’d needed some space before rushing into another relationship that I wasn’t sure I was ready for. It was far more detail than I’d planned on giving him.
‘So, I’m surprised it hasn’t come up in conversation already, but where are you from?’ he eventually asked.
‘I’m sure you won’t have heard of it. A quaint little hamlet called Dilbury, on the Welsh border, not far from Shrewsbury.’
‘Oh, I think you did mention that name earlier, and believe it or not, I’m familiar with it,’ he exclaimed, shooting me a surprised look.
‘You know Dilbury?’ It was rare to find anyone who’d heard of it. If you blinked while you were driving through it, you’d probably miss it.
‘No, but I know Shrewsbury. I … I live not far from there myself.’
‘Wow! What are the odds of meeting a virtual neighbour halfway around the world?’ I happily observed. ‘We’ll have to swap numbers and meet up some time when we get home.’
‘Hmmm,’ he murmured. I waited, and waited, then waited some more for him to offer me his phone to tap my number in, but he didn’t. I tore my eyes off his handsome side profile and started to wonder how awkward this was going to get when we got back to the hotel and had to say goodbye. Despite the moments when we’d laughed together, or the obvious attraction we felt to each other, I just had this feeling that he’d actually be happy to never see me again, which disappointed me more than it should. I screamed as there was a loud bang and the Jeep skidded on the road. ‘Hold tight, blow out,’ Weston yelled.
I screwed my eyes shut, gripping the sides of my seat as he grappled with the vehicle, my heart pounding like a bass drum until I felt us come to a gentle standstill.
‘That was a close call, are you ok?’ he asked, as I felt his knuckles gently run down the side of my face, making me shiver. It was hard to remember the last time a man had touched me before Weston, and I had no memory of Greg’s touch leaving a searing impression on my skin like this. ‘You’re cold. Why don’t you put on my jacket while I go and see if there’s a spare tyre.’
‘I’m ok, thanks,’ I whispered as I opened my eyes and gave him a small smile to reassure him. He reached behind and grabbed his jacket anyway, then leaned over to drape it across my shoulders like some chivalrous knight in shining armour.
‘Sit tight. If we have spare, it won’t take me long.’
‘And if we don’t?’
‘We’ll call for help. Check if we have a signal, my phone’s in my jacket pocket. We can walk back if we need to, as it’s not too far, but let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, eh? Damn it,’ he muttered, wiping his face and looking up to the sky.
‘Rain,’ I added as I did the same, feeling the hot, wet drops explode as they started to pelt my cheeks.
He jumped out, then happily informed me that there was a spare tyre and asked if I’d mind standing at the side of the Jeep while he replaced it. He held my hand as he helped me out, then grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled them tightly, wrapping me up in it as the rain came down harder. Droplets of water ran down our faces as we stood there looking at each other. This was it, this was the moment in the movies when the guy said “Screw it” and clasped her face, then took her breath away with a knee-buckling kiss she’d never forget. Despite everything, I was ready for it. I wanted to see if this chemistry between us was as explosive when our lips met. My lips parted and my chest heaved as I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, giving him the green light.
‘I’d better work fast.’
My eyes snapped open to see him walking away, disappearing behind the Jeep as I stood there with my mouth open in amazement, the warm rain starting to saturate my hair. “I’d better work fast?” Sorting a flat tyre was more appealing than kissing me romantically in the rain? I groaned and covered my face with my hands. I needed some major therapy, or a 101 course in how to read men, as I was seriously failing here. To add insult to injury, when I dropped my hands, my mascara was all over them. Great, I was soaking wet, my mascara was all over my face, I’d already seen from the wing mirror that I had a red eye from where I’d hurt it, and the most handsome man I’d ever set eyes on didn’t want me. I’d definitely had better nights.
I took consolation from the scent of him that was all over his jacket, and when the rain picked up its pace, I gripped the inside lining to pull it closer to me and inhaled deeply. When I felt a hard lump against my arm, I reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone from the inside pocket, remembering his request. When I pressed the home button, I was relieved to see that we did actually have a signal. At least we could call for help if it was needed. I tucked it safely away and pulled the jacket back around me, protecting some of me from the downpour.
‘Done,’ Weston huffed when he finally reappeared, running the back of a dirty hand across his forehead, then pushing his wet hair up and away from his eyes. I swallowed hard as my pulse spiked. His combats were soaked and splattered in mud, especially around the knees, and clung to him like a second skin. His white shirt was see-through, wrapped around his torso so tightly I’d need a vegetable peeler to get it off him, if I was the kind of girl to strip a man on a first date. Not that this was a date. While I’d stood here analysing our night together, I’d decided that he was only doing it because he’d fancied me and Abbie had guilt tripped him into it. He’d made it obvious that now that he’d got to know me, he wasn’t interested in taking this further. Regardless of his feelings, or lack of them, I felt like I’d just hit menopause as heat built up inside me. ‘Are you ok? You’ve gone from pale when you thought I was about to murder you to beet red now.’
‘I’m fine, just hot. It’s hot rain out here, isn’t it? Not like the freezing cold rain you get in England. In fact, I could strip off right now and shower in it, that’s how hot it is. You, too. I mean, you could do with a hot shower as you’re dirty. Not that I’m suggesting you’re sexually dirty, or that you should have a hot shower with me,’ I added hastily as he cocked an amused eyebrow at me. ‘I was just saying I’m hot. The rain’s hot. You’re … everything’s hot. It’s damn Mexico! Can we go home now?’ I quickly opened the passenger door and hauled myself in, then slammed the door shut before he had a chance to come any closer and see me embarrass myself any more than I already had.
He wasn’t wrong when he said we weren’t far from the hotel. We were there in under two minutes of torturous silence, with every few revolutions of the wheels adding to the tension that seemed to be growing between us. As soon as he pulled up, I leaned over and kissed his cheek, desperate to escape the weird atmosphere and let him off the hook.
‘Thanks for dinner and a fun, if not sometimes scary, night, Weston. Maybe I’ll bump into you in Shrewsbury sometime. Safe trip home.’ I flung open the door and tried to get out, but was yanked violently backwards by the seatbelt, which I’d forgotten to unbuckle in my haste to get away from him. ‘Owww, bugger,’ I moaned, rubbing my crushed chest.
‘Wait there, I’ll help you out and walk you home.’
‘No need, honestly, I know the way,’ I replied, fumbling to undo the buckle. I silently cursed when he appeared at my side and reached over to do it for me, that amazing crackle of energy hitting me as our fingers tangled.
‘I’ll walk you home,’ he said firmly, the warmth of his breath skittering across my cheek. I resisted the urge to nuzzle into his neck and see if he tasted as good as he smelled. ‘There could be serial killers lurking in the foliage.’
‘Very funny,’ I replied. My breath hitched as he helped me out and I slid down his hard, muscular body, but he stepped back as soon as my feet hit the floor, like he couldn’t get away quick enough. It was usually men chasing me and I was the one that wasn’t interested. I’d never experienced this, where I had a primal hunger for a man I barely knew, but who seemed oblivious to how much I wanted him and didn’t seem to reciprocate my feelings. He was just being gentlemanly. As an ex-Army officer, he’d obviously had manners drilled into him for years. He shut the car door, threw the keys to the valet, and turned to guide me back towards the hotel.
‘Hello again, Mieces Carter,’ called the receptionist, giving me a curious, and frankly damning look.
‘Great. Now not only do they think I’m a married gay woman, I’m one who cheats and comes home with her hair ruffled, her makeup streaked, and some of her clothes missing, brazenly parading her boy toy at her side.’
‘You worry too much about what people think,’ Weston sagely observed.
‘Now you sound like Abbie. If you’d spent most of your life having your parents tell you that you should worry about what other people think, maybe you’d be as embarrassed as I am right now,’ I huffed, annoyed that he was judging me, and accurately too, after only spending a few hours with me, and yet I barely knew anything about him or his feelings. Honestly, right now I was just irritated that I liked him so much and he didn’t feel the same.
‘You’ve broken away from them, Georgie, you’re living the life you want. It’s time to let go of the past and their expectations and be proud to be your own woman. I’m sure when they see that you’re happy with your decisions in life, they’ll come around. Parents only ever want to give us the best start in life and see us happy.’
‘Do you speak from experience?’ I asked, expecting no response or for him to divert the topic back to me as he had so many times tonight.
‘I do. Come on, down here,’ he advised, trying to nudge me down towards the beach.
‘It’s this way,’ I advised, pointing along the torch-lit path.
‘I’d rather drop you off where I picked you up. I know my way to run back along the beach from there.’
‘Run? You have the Jeep.’
‘It was delivered to me here and it’s being picked up from here. Plus I’m damp and filthy, I can sneak in around the back. I don’t really want to walk through the lobby of the luxury hotel I’m staying in looking like a street urchin.’
‘Must be posh if it was ok to walk through our lobby looking like that, but you won’t entertain it for your own. Why are staying in such a posh hotel all on your own anyway?’
‘I could ask why you’re in a country known for its sunny climate when you obviously don’t like catching the sun. You must have gone through bottles of sunscreen, as you haven’t changed colour from the first day I set eyes on you,’ he responded as we hit the sand. I scowled, annoyed at his use of diversionary tactics again.
‘Funny, and here I was thinking you were too busy either kissing the sand or staring at my chest to notice what colour my skin was,’ I retorted.
‘I noticed, Georgie,’ he said gruffly. ‘Trust me, I noticed everything.’
‘Well, as this seems to be the place for being known by another name, I’m going to call you Mr. Jessica Fletcher.’
‘Or you could simply go with a male sleuth, like Morse, or Hercule Poirot. Right, you should be the third villa on the right.’
‘How could you possibly know that? I’ve been staying here for nearly two weeks and even I’m not sure from the beach. They all look the same to me in daylight, let alone under the dim light of the moon.’
‘Not to me,’ he replied, his fingers moving to the small of my back again, making me quiver. Wow, a moonlit beach walk in the heat with the waves crashing on the shore and crickets chirping in the background. Another romantic movie moment that I had a feeling he wasn’t going to take advantage of. I was so sexually frustrated as it was, without a night out with such an overtly masculine and sexy man, I was liable to jump Abbie when I got in and let everyone hear how happy the honeymooners really were. ‘Here we are, after you,’ he suggested as he swung open our gate.
‘You’re … coming in?’ I asked. What exactly was going on here? He was hot, he was cold, well ok, he was always hot, but I just couldn’t read him at all.
‘No, that really would start tongues wagging. I promised to show you to your door, and unless I’m mistaken, this is just your back gate and the path up to your villa is dark.’
‘Oh no, Abbie turned off the lights. She must have assumed I’d come back to the front door.’
‘Stay close, right behind me,’ he ordered as he moved off and headed up the steps.
‘Unless you’re going to say you’ve been studying the back garden secretly, I think I know the way better than you. Keep to the left, you don’t want to fall in the swim–’ I was cut off by a yelp of surprise and a resounding splash.
‘Weston?’ I yelled. I dropped his jacket off my shoulders, kicked off my shoes, and ran forward, using the faint reflection of the moonlight off the undulating water to allow me to jump in after him.
‘Shit,’ he gasped, spluttering for air.
‘Stay still, I’m coming to get you,’ I called, trying to locate him.
‘Coming to get me? I don’t need rescuing, Georgie, I’m an expert swimmer. You stay still, I don’t want you wading into the deep end by mistake and drowning.’
‘Please, I’ve swum in here every day, I know exactly where the deep end is,’ I scoffed, as my foot slid out from under me down the slope and I tipped sideways with a shriek. I went underwater, but just as suddenly was hauled up and slammed against Weston’s hard, wet chest. His arms snaked around my waist, holding me tightly to him, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as mine as I reached up to curl my fingers around his firm biceps.
‘So, how’s that rescue going?’ he chuckled.
‘Like you can laugh, Mr. ex-Army who can read people, assess his surroundings and memorise them, but falls into a swimming pool he didn’t even notice.’
‘I used to wear night vision goggles. It’s not as easy to map foreign terrain when your eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark.’
‘You’re still holding me,’ I reminded him, noticing that either I’d gravitated even closer to him or he had to me.
‘You’re still holding me,’ he rasped, his voice suddenly full of unmistakable lust. I felt the heat of his breath on my lips, but just as suddenly we both screwed our eyes shut as the bright pool lights dazzled us.
‘Oh sorry, I heard a splash and a load of yelling. I thought someone was drowning,’ came Abbie’s voice, and Weston’s hold on me was immediately relinquished. ‘If I’d known you were having some romantic re-enactment of Dirty Dancing, I’d have stayed inside. Well, I’d have peeked through the shutters to watch in secret. Carry on smooching, don’t mind me.’
‘Don’t mind me, it’s time I was going. I need to get these wet and dirty clothes laundered before I pack in the morning,’ Weston stated in a gruff tone as he waded over to the side of the pool and effortlessly hauled himself out, leaving me standing waist deep in the pool, soaked and quivering.
‘I’ll be inside, Georgie, I’ll get some towels ready,’ called Abbie as she slid the glass door shut.
‘Give me your hands,’ Weston ordered as I started to make my way towards the steps at the far end, my wet dress weighing me down.
‘Don’t worry about me, I can get out over there. You’re obviously in a hurry,’ I called without looking up at him. Why did I feel like crying all of a sudden? Despite his hot and cold behaviour, it stung that I wasn’t ever going to see him again.
‘Give me your hands, Georgie,’ he ordered firmly, leaving me in no doubt that he expected my immediate compliance. I sighed and turned to face him as he bent over and held his hands out for me to grab. I curled my fingers around his wrists and seconds later felt weightless, like I was flying, as he lifted me up and out of the water and carefully set me down next to him. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Fine, thank you,’ I nodded, then swept my bag off the floor.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked, bringing his hands to cradle my face as I looked back up at him. He swept his thumbs across my cheekbones, making me melt. He’d been more tender, caring, and protective of me in a few hours than Greg had been in all the years we’d been together. He was right, Abbie and Daphne were right, I needed to stop worrying about what people thought, stop striving to meet their expectations of me, and carry on living for myself, doing what I wanted, with whom I wanted to. And oddly, I wanted this man in front of me, despite how little I knew about him and his confusing behaviour. I swallowed a ball of nerves building in my tummy.
‘Really, I’m fine, just feeling a bit chilly now. Weston, in spite of everything, I had a good time. Could we … could we see each other again?’
‘Georgie,’ he hissed, closing his eyes for a second as his hands fell from my face, leaving me feeling bereft. Was I really misreading the way he’d been with me? I pulled out my phone and opened my contacts list, determined not to give up.
‘I’ll text you my number and if you’re at a loose end in Shrewsbury one day, text me and I’ll come and meet you for coffee or something, and we can laugh about what a disaster this night was.’
‘I … I don’t know my mobile number.’
‘Really?’ For a detail-orientated guy, that seemed odd. ‘Ok, well get your phone out and I’ll read out my number for you to save,’ I suggested, pushing at my limits of being forward.
‘I can’t do that either, Georgie, it will have been ruined when I fell in the pool. I’m so sorry. I had fun too, in spite of everything. I’ve really got to go. It was great to meet you. Have a safe trip home.’ He grabbed my face and planted a quick kiss on my forehead, so quick I wondered if I’d imagined it. He then ran, not jogged, there was no ambiguity in the way he physically ran from me at speed, scooping up his jacket from the floor as he went, then vaulted over the gate onto the beach and disappeared from view as I stood there speechless.
‘Where did he go?’ called Abbie as I heard the window behind me slide open. I should have known she wasn’t joking when she said she was going to watch through the shutters. ‘You looked like you were going to rip each other’s clothes off when I turned on the lights.’
‘I think we could have,’ I nodded as I stared at the spot I’d last seen him at.
‘God, did I totally ruin your night?’
‘No,’ I replied as she headed over and wrapped a warm fluffy towel around me as I shivered. ‘I think I managed to do that all on my own.’
‘Don’t say that. You’re a fabulous catch and if he couldn’t see what was in front of him, then he’s a fool. I really thought I’d judged this right. He was into you, so into you.’
‘A man who’s into you doesn’t lie when you ask for his number. In fact, he’d ask for yours.’
‘He gave you a fake number and you tried it already? Damn, your thumbs move fast.’
‘He told me he couldn’t remember his number, then said his phone was ruined when he fell in the pool,’ I sighed, surprised at how hurt I felt at his avoidance tactics.
‘Ok, I can believe both explanations, why don’t you?’
‘Because he didn’t have his phone on him when he fell in the pool. It was in his jacket, which I left on the floor before I jumped in after him.’
‘Maybe he forgot it was there,’ she suggested.
‘No, he knew,’ I huffed. ‘He knew, Abbie. He just doesn’t want to meet up again.’
‘Oh, sweetie, I’m sorry. I pushed this, thinking it was what you both wanted. I feel really bad now. Come on, let’s get you inside, dry and warm. I’ll order some hot chocolates and ice cream and you can tell me all about what an arsehole he was.’
‘That’s just it. Up until then, he wasn’t,’ I stated, as I let her guide me indoors. Talk about an ego shatterer. First Greg, now Weston. There was nothing like being rejected, and lied to repeatedly, to ruin any faith you had in men.
The Next Day - Saturday
‘I don’t believe it,’ growled Abbie, as I distracted myself with my reliable book boyfriend again while we enjoyed another morning of gorgeous sunshine.
‘What?’ I asked, not looking up.
‘He’s got a nerve running past our door after last night.’
‘He what?’ I gasped, looking up to see Weston approaching at speed.
‘If he goes past without acknowledging you, I’ll kill him, Uma Thurman Kill Bill style.’
‘Me too,’ I hissed as I scowled in his direction.
‘If he comes with some lame apology, or worse, no apology at all, I’ll kill him!’ Abbie grated out.
‘So basically, you’re killing him whatever he does then?’ I observed, cursing my body for reacting positively to the lying … scumbag!
‘He deserves it. Let me rip him to shreds and send him packing, a shell of his former self,’ Abbie begged. I considered her request for a second, then shook my head.
‘I’m changing, Abbie, standing up for myself, but I still choose to handle this in a dignified manner, so you’ll keep quiet and not say a word,’ I warned.
‘Georgie!’ she moaned, throwing her hands up in the air, then dropping them to her sides with a teenager’s sulky pout.
‘I mean it,’ I stated firmly.
‘Fine,’ she huffed, folding her arms across her chest. ‘That doesn’t rule out shooting deadly laser beams from my eyes and focussing them on his manhood, does it?’
‘Are you planning on ogling him to death?’ I giggled. ‘Right, sssshhhh, he’s approaching.’
I stuck my head back in my book, determined I wasn’t making the first move this time. If he wanted to apologise, he was going to have to make the moves. I became aware of a shadow on my legs, but still didn’t look up.
‘Abbie, Georgie, good morning,’ came his warm, velvety voice, with that slight rasp I found so annoyingly appealing.
‘Morning,’ I replied without looking up. ‘I thought you were leaving today?’
‘I am, I just … I have something for you.’
‘What?’ I sighed, trying to sound as uninterested as I could, which was ridiculous as I’d virtually thrown myself at him last night.
‘This,’ he stated without telling me what, which forced me to look up at him or appear even more churlish, and my manners were too ingrained for me to be that mean. I gasped as he held out a stunning silver pashmina that glimmered in the sunlight. It was even prettier than the one I’d lost. ‘I felt really bad that you lost yours because of me, I hope this will do.’
‘Weston, it’s beautiful,’ I observed as I reached out and fingered the material. It was so soft and luxurious. I quickly pulled my hand back. ‘It’s a lovely gesture, but I can’t accept it. It looks much more expensive than the one I had.’
‘You can and will accept, it’s my fault you lost yours. If you won’t take it, I’ll just leave it here,’ he said stubbornly, setting it down on the bed by my feet. ‘And it turns out I was mistaken about my phone. It was in my jacket, not my wet trousers, so I’ve written down my number for you in case you wanted to text me sometime, you know … for coffee.’
‘For coffee,’ I repeated slowly, studying his face, trying to work out if he realised his error last night and was covering his tracks, or if it was a genuine mistake and he’d forgotten the phone was in his jacket. But either way, he hadn’t needed to come here at all, he could have flown home and I’d likely never have seen him again.
‘For coffee, or something, nothing serious, right?’ He held out a scrap of paper for me to take. ‘I’m not proposing or asking you to move in, not yet anyway,’ he added, a slow smile spreading across his face, those mesmerising blue eyes twinkling with merriment and what seemed to be desire again. I looked down at his hand, wondering if I was misreading things now. I felt seriously confused, and after Greg, I needed perfect clarity.
‘She’ll text you,’ Abbie stated firmly, reaching over to snatch the paper out of his hands. ‘Give him your business card, Georgie.’
‘My business card?’ I gave her an incredulous look. First, she was supposed to be staying quiet, and second, who took England-based “Dog Grooming Service” cards on holiday with them to Mexico? Or anywhere abroad? I certainly didn’t.
‘I keep telling you that you never know when a potential client may fall in your lap. It’s a good job I carry one with my accounting cards in my beach bag.’ She grinned and delved inside said bag, then produced one with a flourish, making my jaw drop. ‘Here you are, Weston. Excellent, now you both have each other’s numbers you can arrange to meet for coffee. Or “something,”’ she added, air quoting with her fingers, making my cheeks flush at the innuendo.
‘Thanks, Abbie, always so helpful.’ I gave her a back-off glare and she grimaced.
‘Wow, is that the time? We’ve got our daily couple’s massage, I’ll go ahead and let them know you’ll be there shortly.’ She avoided eye contact as she hastily packed her bag and jumped up. ‘Nice to meet you, Weston. See you around in Dilbury sometime, bye!’ She shot off so fast, she tripped over her own feet and landed face first in the white powdery sand. I heard Weston chuckle behind me, obviously reminded of our first encounter, which made me giggle.
‘Are you ok? Do you need a hand, Abbie?’ he gallantly asked.
‘No, thanks, I’m great. It’s an exfoliating massage, so all this sand stuck to my sun cream will just buff me up even better,’ she called as she scrambled up and disappeared through the gate at speed.
‘So,’ he said, forcing me to look back at him. His feet were anchored in the sand, his thighs parted, and his arms were folded over his chest, my card poking out of the waistband of his tiny shorts. God damn it, everything I hadn’t seen in the flesh was at eye level, and it was an effort to drag my eyes up his body to meet his amused gaze. ‘Will you call me?’
‘I’m kind of old-fashioned, I think a guy should do the chasing and ring the lady first.’
‘Then I’ll call you soon. Have a safe trip home, Georgie.’
‘You too, Weston,’ I smiled, my heart fluttering. He grinned and flashed me a sexy wink, then turned and sprinted off up the beach back towards his hotel.
‘What is your deal?’ I asked after his retreating back. ‘One minute you’re as hot as a Mexican chilli, the next as cold as a Dilbury winter.’
I called over Alejandro. I was feeling so hot myself that I was in serious need of cooling down. No doubt Abbie would be back in a while, as she knew our massages weren’t until just before lunch, so I ordered two mojitos and tried not to get my hopes up that Weston might ring or focus on the niggling doubts in the back of my mind as to whether he was a man I could trust if he did. There was just something about him that I couldn’t put my finger on.