‘Anyone who doesn’t inhale a croissant this good wants their head checking,’ I muttered, savouring a speck of the buttery goodness before relenting with a very big sigh. ‘I came because seeing you always makes me feel better.’
‘Thank you, of course it does, and why do you need to feel better?’
‘All right, I’m stressed out,’ I admitted. ‘But I’m stressed out about a lot of things, not only romantic drama. Work stuff, family stuff and—’
‘But there is romantic drama!’ Sarah held up a triumphant finger and I kicked myself at the slip up. ‘Out with it, what’s their name?’
‘He doesn’t deserve a name, he’s an idiot,’ I mumbled, not at all picturing the way the thin white sheet had been draped over his gorgeous body when I snuck outthis morning, arms raised over his head to show off the line of his shoulders, the cut of his collarbone, head tilted to one side, full lips slightly parted. ‘Except my body hasn’t quite caught on to that yet.’
‘Look at your face.’ Sarah clapped, delighted, as my cheeks turned a deep shade of scarlet. ‘Hate to be the one to break it to you but whoever this idiot is, you’re totally into him.’
‘Am not.’
‘Are too.’
‘I am not.’
‘You’re so in love with him, you couldn’t be any more in love with him if you tried,’ she said back in a sing-song voice. ‘You love him more than I love espresso martinis, Cadbury’s I Eggs and Alexander Skarsgård, not all at the same time. Although …’
‘You’re wrong. I could not be less in love with this man,’ I announced, an agitated snip clipping off the edges of my words. ‘Just because someone is handsome and funny, works with books, likes the same films as you and is big and strong enough to toss you over his shoulder and carry you out of a burning building does not mean you should automatically throw your underwear at him.’
‘Yes, it does.’
In her defence, I’d set myself up there. Crossing my arms and legs at the same time, I looked away, shaking my head more at myself than anyone else. ‘Not when he’s also so full of shit he could supply manure to every farm between Land’s End and John O’Groats.’
But was he? A knot tied itself in my stomach when I thought of his lips against my ear and pulled tightly at the memory of the look on his face when I came backto the cottage, so sad and tearful. It was possible there was a very, very, very small chance I might have misjudged him. I’d been wrong in the past but only on extremely rare occasions, like the time I momentarily doubted Beyoncé’s ability to pull off a country record. Shame on me. But what about the things Mal said, the cadding and the bounderesness? Mal wasn’t a liar, that had to come from somewhere.
‘If you say you’re not interested in this man I believe you but humour me for one minute,’ Sarah suggested. ‘What’s the future Mr Sophie Taylor’s name?’
‘The future Mr Sophie Taylor is a clone of Ryan Reynolds that hasn’t been created yet, as you well know,’ I replied. ‘The man sent to punish me for terrible crimes I must have committed in a past life is called Joe Walsh.’
‘Then tell me about Joe Walsh.’
The incriminating wash of scarlet crept down my throat and mottled my chest.
‘His dad is friends with my dad. They’re both up here for the party.’
‘His dad is friends with your dad? If this were a Jane Austen novel, that would be enough to see the two of you married off.’
‘Thankfully, times have changed,’ I said. ‘But if it was an Austen novel, he’d be a Wickham, not a Darcy. Pretty, sneaky and completely full of it.’
I swirled my cup, blending the coffee and the coconut milk, as she tucked into the middle chunk of her croissant, the best bit according to Sarah and, according to Sarah logic, you should always eat the best bit first. ‘I’m not in love with him, it’s purely physical and I don’t do purely physical. There’s something about him that makes me want to climb the man. It’s pheromones,right? Tell me it’s pheromones so I don’t have to have myself committed.’
‘Sounds like a crush to me,’ she replied, picking each layer of pastry apart, starting with the crunchiest. ‘I will admit it’s not like you to lose your mind over strong thighs and a sleazy smile but there’s a first time for everything, which leads me to my next question: does he feel the same? Has he expressed an interest in climbing you also?’
Resting my arms on the table and my head on my arms, I catalogued all our almost moments, the knot in my belly squeezing even tighter. ‘This feels so weird to say but I actually think he does.’
‘And that’s weird because?’
‘Because no one in the history of ever has been interested in me for purely physical reasons and don’t start with all that “but you’re so pretty” stuff because a), it doesn’t count coming from you, and b), I’ve got many years of precedent to back me up. It’s just not me.’
‘That’s because I’ve never met anyone with a stronger “touch me and die” vibe,’ Sarah replied. ‘Call it boundaries, call it self-respect, either way I wouldn’t know, but that’s not the point. The point is, I think you should probably have sex with this man. Immediately if not sooner.’
I raised a single questioning eyebrow in her direction.
‘For science,’ she added.
A second eyebrow joined the first.
