“Come.” He went to the end of the pier and dropped down to sit on the edge.
Her feet didn’t feel like glue; they wanted to run to his side.
She was a stupid, stupid girl.
The sun sparkled like sequins on the surface of the water, and even the wood of the jetty smelled warm. On impulse, she removed her Wellies and socks and let her legs hang over the side.
“It’s surprisingly warm for early March,” he observed, unlacing his boots.
“It always is.” She wiggled her toes above the water. “Microclimate. Gulf Stream and warm water from the Indian Ocean. We get short winters and long, glorious springs and summers.”
She stopped herself from inviting him to stay and enjoy summer here. It was bad enough that he had copied her and sat with his legs over the side. He even had sexy feet. When had he transformed from an ordinary and pleasant stranger to Romeo, Mr Darcy and…what was his name, the romantic prince in War and Peace? Gabriel was all of them rolled into one.
“How was Millie?” he asked.
He didn’t come all the way and keep her back to ask about Millie. Either he sensed her nerves, or he too was finding it difficult to come to the point and needed to lead to it with small talk. Either way, it was bad because it meant a difficult conversation. Which meant…
Which meant nothing. Whatever he had to say was going to be difficult.
“Millie is always wonderful and full of optimism. She is the most positive person you’ll ever know,” she answered, keeping her eyes on the water.
“I don’t think so.”
She sensed him looking at her and stole a glance at him.
Yep, he was, in that steady serious way of his. “I thinkyouare the most positive person I’ll ever know,” he said.
She didn’t feel very positive just then. She felt terrified. “You’ve led a poor life, my friend.”
“I’m sorry I disappeared yesterday. I had to take care of something.”
No more small talk then. She should have known. He was never a coward about dealing with difficult subjects. Probably why he managed to handle Nicole when no one else could.
“That’s okay. I hope it’s all sorted.”
“More or less.” He looked up towards the house. “She’ll lose some money, but we’ve reached a compromise and she’ll be able to complete the sale today.”
“Good.”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“No.” The word came out fast like a reflex.
He looked at her for a long, agonising moment. “Yes,” he said simply. “About yesterday—”
“Not today. I have…things to do.” She had nothing to do.
“Why don’t we go to East Hill?” he went on quietly. “We can take the pictures for Millie and George’s wedding gift.”
“You don’t need me for the pictures. Let’s face it, you’re the photographer; I was only along for the ride.” She was trying really hard to keep her voice light. To sound easy and relaxed.
“That’s not true. And we need to talk.”
“You know, you’re false advertising.”
He blinked in that way he had when she surprised him. Then he smiled slowly, his eyes crinkled at the sides and the sun brought out the highlights in his hair and beard. “I am?”
“I mean, you’re not what you seem. Like when you buy baked beans from the supermarket, and it turns out not to be what it said on the tin. It’s…”
