‘I didn’t receive any text, and I’m fully aware that you’re ginger.’ I exhaled a girlish giggle. The sound of his voice sailed through my soul, lifting my spirit.
‘Give me half an hour and I’ll be home,’ he promised without hesitation.
Home.
If only.
But the hotel bar would do for now.
I headed back to the girls and tried to hide the fact that my mood had shifted a full one-eighty while I’d supposedly only been going for a wee.
Seventeen people came into the bar, including four of his stag friends. Seventeen times my head snapped round, only to be disappointed. The eighteenth person was him. My heart swelled with joy and I raised my hand to him unashamedly.
He wore a simple navy slim-fitting shirt and jeans, his hands tucked effortlessly into his pockets. He nodded at me, and I caught the secret smile curling at the corners of his mouth. He headed over to where we were sitting on the same couches as the night previously.
‘What’s the craic ladies?’ His casual demeanour was one of the things I’d been most attracted to last night.
‘Zero craic,’ I said. ‘How was your night?’ I tried to act normal in front of the girls but my hands became increasingly clammy and the blush threatened my face again.
‘Can I get you ladies a drink?’ he asked.
‘No thanks.’ Clara yawned, looking ready to hit the hay. She rested her head on her hand and her eyes started to close. I smiled at John and he fake coughed, his daze darting to Clara. She had opened her eyes and was looking between the two of us.
Why was she so reluctant to leave us? Please, could she just go? Just give me this night. This time to see if what I felt was real.
The message delivered. Clara got to her feet and arched her eyebrow. ‘Sorry, I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. See you in the morning.’
‘I should go too.’ Ruth said, standing with a smile. She followed Clara out the bar.
‘And then there were two…’ I said.
‘Sadly, not for long.’ John gestured to his friends heading our way and soon the bar was packed again.
A tall man with dark hair and tanned skin approached us shortly after. He clapped John firmly on the back in a familiar manner and smiled warmly at him.
‘Well, this must be Lucy.’ He extended his hand to shake mine firmly. His smile was bright, but I wasn’t sure it fully reached his eyes.
‘Nice to meet you.’ I shook his hand firmly.
‘I’m the best friend. Owen.’ His accent was almost identical to John’s.
‘I’m the random married woman, but if you know my name, I’m sure you know that already.’ I tried to make light of the situation but I wasn’t sure Owen was convinced of my honourable intentions. Darting dubious glances inferred he was still making up his mind about me, but he sauntered back to the rest of the stag party, leaving us alone again.
We sat side by side on the couch. John’s thigh leaned against mine, electricity pulsing rapidly between us. I hadn’t imagined a thing from the previous night. The attraction was acute. Again, I found myself imagining what it would be like to be his. To hold him, to be held. To feel him physically against me. I felt so powerlessly drawn to him.
He took out his phone and showed me the message he had sent me this morning. I spotted the mistake immediately, only because I had received the foreign dial tone not half an hour before or else I probably wouldn’t have noticed. He hadn’t put the UK area code in, so the message wasn’t delivered.
The knowledge that he’d tried to contact me soothed my soul.
‘So, Lucy,’ he said knowingly. ‘What are we going to do with you?’
I knew what I’d like him to do, but it was never going to happen in a million years. I wasn’t that kind of girl, married ornot. I’d learnt the hard way. If you wanted a man to respect you, you made him wait. Regardless of what every fibre in my being was telling me.
‘I don’t know, John. What would you suggest?’ I batted the ball straight back into his court.
He looked at his watch for a second thoughtfully and said, ‘I could have my car over here in about thirty-six hours to collect you and your belongings and bring you back to my house. No one would even think to look for you there. And then I’d have you all to myself, to do exactly as I pleased with you.’
‘If only it were that easy.’
