‘I’m starting to get a picture of your life,’ said Monty and he saw something in Joy’s shifting expression that made him add, ‘Fast-paced. Exciting? Busy.’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ She stopped shelving and stretched out her back. ‘It’s varied, that’s for sure. But tonight’s the first time I’ve had volunteers helping. If I’m not working by myself there’s only usually the engineers there, or the architects, sometimes a poor intern. And it’sdefinitelythe first time we’ve had a barbeque. Thank you for that. Again.’
Monty had stopped working now too. He was looking at her in the most unassuming, friendly way, but still Joy wondered if the evening light was playing on her skin the way it was on his.
‘It was my pleasure. In fact, it was more fun than anything I’ve done in a long time.’ Monty looked in danger of drifting away into his thoughts. ‘Yeah. It really felt likecooking. Flames and fish and herbs…’ He stopped himself, seemed to grow reticent when a second ago he’d been so passionate. ‘Anyway, ah… you… like books?’
Joy couldn’t help laughing. He was as bad at small talk as her.
‘I’m an eBook kind of woman. You can’t travel long haul with a library in your suitcase.’ She pulled her phone from her pocket. ‘Mine’s in here.’
‘What kind of thing?’ he asked, reaching for a stack of Scotts, leaving Joy to sort the Smiths.
‘True crime, psychological thrillers…’ she said.
‘Oh, really?’
‘And audiobooks too, and podcasts. They help me sleep. The grizzlier the better.’
‘It’s always the quiet ones.’ Monty was grinning now.
There was no way she could tell him how, weirdly, they comforted her. She couldn’t explain it, even to herself, how they satisfied a morbid curiosity she’d developed lately. They let her safely pick over her fears about what could so easily have been, if she hadn’t escaped. She didn’t want to give it any more thought than that.
‘What about you?’ she asked hurriedly.
‘Oh, I’m not a great reader. I was always too busy on the boat, and these days it’s more searching for new recipes. You never know when you’ll find a new salt rub or a sauce that’ll bring a bit of salmon or skate to life, you know? Does that sound peculiar? It does, doesn’t it?’
‘Not at all.’ She could picture him turning pages, taking notes, then experimenting alone in the kitchen, tasting things with a teaspoon, scrapping it, starting over. His food tasted like years of experimenting and experience went into it, and devotion too. But she didn’t say any of that, no matter how much she wanted to, or however much he looked like he needed to hear it.
His eyes were growing heavy-lidded.
‘You’re tired,’ she said.
‘I get up early to do the Siren breakfasts.’
‘Shouldn’t you get home?’
Monty turned his head in the direction where the harbour lay and his little room down at the Siren’s Tail. ‘Nah, besides we want to get these finished up first.’ He gestured to the last of the books.
When she looked back to the shelf before her it was harder to concentrate than before, their little corner of the shop quieter, and the names on the spines blurrier somehow.
Monty’s arms, tanned and strong, worked and flexed as he lifted the last of the stock – the T’s through to the Z’s – onto the shelves so they could be sorted and rearranged at eye level.
Reaching for an Elizabeth Taylor that needed moving to a higher shelf, her arm brushed his. Not even his arm, in fact, but the soft fabric of his shirt where the curve of his bicep emerged, and still the barely-there brush of cotton sent a warm bloom of heat through her.
She immediately stepped away.
‘I’ll just get Radia in bed,’ she told him, hoping she sounded cooler than she felt.
Once the little girl was tucked in and kissed on the head, Joy hid out in the bedroom and took a second to put Patti right, texting her this time, not daring to leave a voice message in case something in her tone gave away the fact she was hiding in the dark, hugging Radia to sleep, trying to steer clear of whatever that magic, buzzing, electric charge coming from Monty Bickleigh’s body was.
There’s no Hot European Guy party, Pats. Don’t go getting excited. I’m fitting out a bookshop in Devon and there are volunteers helping with the shelving. It is nice though. Friendly. If a bit eccentric. Have fun at the wedding con. How about you spend your night looking out for a hot girl wedding celebrant or napkin folder instead of jumping to conclusions about my dating life? ;) Take care, J. x
‘Your Auntie Patti sent you her love,’ she whispered next to Radia’s ear as she hit send and decided to hide out a little longer, curled up beside her daughter on the bed.
‘I miss her,’ Radia said sleepily. ‘When is she coming to visit?’
‘She’s busy,’ Joy told her, ‘but soon, I’m sure.’
