I fixed him with a level stare and sipped my wine. ‘And now you know why.’
The round bulbs strung up and down the garden glowed softly against the dimming sky. We still had another hour or so of soft summer daylight but there was a whisper of evening in the air that smoothed away the harsh edges of the day and opened up all kinds of possibilities. Things you could say or do at night that couldn’t be said or done in the day. Joe’s hair was still damp from his shower, wavier than usual, and his white shirt set off his light tan. He had the kind of skin that turned golden from two minutes out in the sun and our countryside walk had given him a healthy, sexy glow. All it had gifted me were salmon pink cheeks and a Rudolph nose that had challenged my makeup skills to their very limit.
‘I haven’t seen your dad all night,’ I said, searching for someone who should’ve been easy to find.
‘Taken to his bed with an alleged migraine. Although last time I looked in on him, he was watching the cricket on his phone. He can only stomach not being centre of attention for so long.’
We stood by the bar, watching the gathering, not quite together but not quite apart. I was only being polite I told myself, I owed him for the CJ save. That was the only reason I hadn’t walked away. It would’ve been rude.
‘Are you having fun?’ I asked, again only out of politeness.
Joe bounced the mouth of his bottle against his lips and nodded.
‘I am. Your parents are very kind people. I’ve already been invited to join your mother’s aquaerobics class, she and her friend Lesley were very insistent.’
‘They say it’s good for the joints,’ I replied, fighting a smile. ‘Low impact, excellent cardio.’
‘Bit too far for me to come up from London every Wednesday,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to find something else to keep my heart rate up. Any recommendations?’
‘Maybe you should get a Peloton, that would keep you off the streets,’ I suggested when he smirked, reminding me exactly why I was avoiding him in the first place. ‘Anyway, I’d better get back to keeping my distance.’
‘Please don’t go.’ He reached out to grasp my wrist, lowering his voice to a soft rumble that curled around my ears like a caress. ‘There’s a vague possibility I wasn’t thinking straight when I said that.’
‘Too much ice cream?’ I suggested with an anxious laugh. ‘I did tell you salted caramel and strawberry did not belong together.’
He tightened his grip gently but firmly around my wrist.
‘It’s not the ice cream,’ he said. ‘The thing is, I can’t get a handle on you and that makes me feel … I don’t know. Nervous.’
Now it was my turn to look surprised.
‘I make you feel nervous?’
‘You make me feel a lot of things.’ He leaned in towards me, his eyes glassy and dark. ‘Maybe we should go back to the cottage and discuss them further?’
‘That would not be a very good idea,’ I said, stutteringout the words as my body attempted to cut my brain off from my mouth. My thoughts and feelings were no longer in sync. Joe rubbed his thumb against the thin skin inside my wrist, and he smiled as goosebumps prickled into life along my arm.
‘It would be an exceptional idea,’ he promised. ‘I’ve got some very pressing questions about the scene in your book where Jenna and Eric get trapped on the roof of the hotel that really can’t wait. Pressing professional questions.’
A civil war was being waged throughout my body. Everything between my knees and my neck wanted to go but my feet remained firmly connected to my brain and my brain said no. At least it did until he pushed my hair away from my face, his lips making contact with my ear, and my whole body shivered.
‘Fuck all the games. I want you, Sophie,’ he whispered. ‘Now.’
That was it, the moment I lost the fight. All my control, my better judgement, everything I’d spent the entire day reminding myself, went out the window. He wanted me, I wanted him and nothing else mattered. The man was quicksand and I was already up to my neck.
‘Let’s go back.’ Joe pulled on my arm, drawing me away from the party, away from the lights. ‘No one’s going to miss us and I can be quiet if you can.’
Stumbling along, I followed him, everything that wasn’t Joe blurring out of focus. I fumbled in my pocket for the keys, his body pressed against my back, when the cottage door opened from the inside.
It was Charlotte.
And in her hand, she clutched a stack of paper.
‘You!’ she boomed as she waved it at me.
I dropped Joe’s hand like it was on fire and took several steps away from him, walking directly into a rosebush.
‘What about me?’ I asked, fighting my way out of the all-consuming Joe Walsh haze.
