If the press got wind I was holed up with… a stunning brunette hours after Celeste and I split up, Holly’s tranquil hideout would be transformed into a circus filled shit show and it would be all my fault. The thought causes an ache deep in my temple.
I should be tired, between the travelling, the jet lag and the four-hour workout Holly gave me between the couch and this bed, but instead I’m wired. A weird, unfamiliar excitement thrums through my veins. Like I’m on the verge of something big.
Is it the movie?
The fact I’m on Irish soil for the first time in years and I’ve barely thought about Sally-Ann since I stepped into this house?
I’m restless, as ever. Utterly unable to relax for even ten minutes.
The need to do something eats at me.
Read my script.
Learn my lines.
Familiarise myself with the small town of Ballybowen. Locate the set maybe, even though I’m not due there until this afternoon.
Find alternative accommodation, because even though I wouldn’t be averse to a repeat of last night, for all I know, Holly could have been ticking ‘bang someone famous’ off a mental list I didn’t even know she’d composed.
The chemistry between us was like nothing else. The need to do it again claws at me. Because right now, this mysterious stranger is my favourite source of nutrition, and I am beyond famished.
Maybe an illicit fling is just what the doctor ordered.
Would Holly be up for it?
Looks like we’re both stuck in this tiny, quiet town for a few weeks, anyway. To me, it seems imprudent not to make the most of it.
I certainly wouldn’t turn down the opportunity for another round or twelve of that uninhibited, animalistic, life-affirming sex.
It was supposed to be a one-night stand, but it was more like one night on a pedestal, because no sexual experience before came even close to it.
A niggle of unease slivers into my stomach.
Dating a normal girl didn’t work out so well before.
Then again, I’m not talking about dating Holly. I’m talking about revelling in her body. Drowning in the chemistry between us for a week or two.
My idle mind is dangerous. I need to get up.
After creeping out of bed, I pull on last night’s clothes without even bothering to shower. I need some fresh air before the walls, and my own brain, close in on me.
Shooting one last look at sleeping beauty, I pad through to the living area. Holly’s fluffy white dog is still curled up in its tartan bed, paws up in the air in a blissful state of slumber. One eye opens as she checks me out before lazily flopping over again. Some guard dog she is.
My stomach growls noisily. Grabbing the keys to the Audi, I slide on my leather jacket. I’m not a kiss-and-run type of guy, which is why I’ll return with breakfast once I’ve checked out this tiny town in the daylight.
A pair of over-sized sunglasses rest on the kitchen worktop. They could pass for unisex. Well, from a distance at least. Can’t be too careful. The freedom of being able to walk around without an entourage of security is something I’m not ready to jeopardise.
I peep into the bedroom again. Holly’s still unconscious.
With a bit of luck, I’ll be back before she even realises I’ve left.
In the hallway, I pass the suitcase I’d abandoned there.
Was it really only ten hours ago I stumbled in on that Mariah impression? I shake my head, barely suppressing my snigger.
Wheeling the case out to the car, I lift it into the boot. There has to be a hotel round here somewhere. It’s such a shame this place was double-booked because it’s glorious. Though if it wasn’t double-booked, I wouldn’t have experienced the best sex of my life last night, several times over.
Can’t win them all, I guess.
