Cal tensed. He stared at Bea for moments that felt like hours, whilst holding a knife in mid-air, and seemingly forgetting to blink.Dammit. That sounded so possessive and wrong. He would remind her now that this was a casual thing and they could see whomever else they wanted and that she had no right to claim his body as her own.
‘You want this view to only be for you?’ Cal asked finally, the air loaded with his words.
‘Um…’Is this a trick question?Bea wasn’t sure how to answer. Oh, why had she made that silly comment and got backed into a corner like this? Whatever she said now could be wrong. If she said yes, she wanted the view of his body to be only for her, then she risked coming across as possessive and having sunk in deeper than he had. If she said that she didn’t then he would wonder why she had made the remark in the first place.
‘Because that’s fine with me,’ said Cal. ‘On one condition.’ He put down the knife and moved round to Bea’s side of the table where soon his breath was warm on her skin. ‘That this’ – he untied the top of Bea’s towel, scooped both her breasts into his palms and softly kissed her neck – ‘is only for my view.’
Bea gasped but managed to squeeze out some words. ‘Oh… Mmm… Deal.’
‘Good. That was an easy agreement.’ Cal kissed her neck again, lingering for a moment before tying her towel back together and going back to his side of the table. He sat down and recommenced eating his sandwich, but not without giving her a playful glance that said,that was fun. Bea’s insides turned to mush.
So, they were both on the same page, in the respect that they wanted one another’s bodies to be exclusive. That was fine. It relieved Bea that Cal wouldn’t be seeing any other women while she was in town. But something about it didn’t set her at ease at all. The arrangement was purely physical. Cal grabbing her breasts so possessively had shown her that. It was wonderful, as ever, to have him touch her, but she wished he wanted more than her body. She only had herself to blame, though. If she hadn’t been so obviously gaping at his chest then he wouldn’t have taken her lustful lead.
She sighed inwardly as she watched Cal across the table. Sitting together, eating lunch like this was the most natural thing in the world. She was so comfortable with him. Yet, in that comfort lurked danger, particularly as she’d been here less than twenty-four hours. Maybe she shouldn’t stay any longer.
Oh, come on, you said you could handle a no-strings fling. You’ve had a hot Scotsman fall into your lap. If you told any of your readers you’d walked away from that they would tell you that you were nuts. Be like one of those characters that can do this thing; be like that girl from the coffee shop; she could do it.But Bea also knew that the characters in her novels could never do no strings without falling for each other. It was a trademark trope of the genre.
‘You’re a million miles away,’ said Cal. ‘Is it the sandwich or my dreamy abs?’
Bea laughed, letting his humour pull her out of her stupor. ‘It’s a bit of both,’ she said. ‘I was dreaming of eating my sandwich off your washboard stomach.’
Now it was Cal’s turn to laugh, his face lighting with generous warmth. ‘Sounds like one of those hipster plating arrangements.’
Bea relaxed somewhat. He was amazing company. She didn’t want to walk away and spend her evenings in her gloomy tenement flat when the vibrant colours of Cal were being revealed to her.
There was a knock at the door of the cottage.
‘I should cover up.’ Bea rushed to grab the sweatpants and t-shirt still on the chair from earlier. Cal searched for the first thing he could find to cover his top half and went for the door in a bizarre wetsuit/apron combination.
‘Oh, afternoon, Dorothy.’ At the door was a grey-haired older lady dressed in beige slacks, a loose floral top and comfortable shoes.
‘Hello, Callum, dear,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a dripping tap and it’s awfully irritating and I wonder if you wouldn’t mind…’
‘Coming to fix it? Absolutely no bother at all.’ Cal shot the woman a winning smile. ‘I’ll come over when I’ve cleared away lunch.’
‘That’d be lovely, Son, thank you. Oh…’ Dorothy was about to turn away when, keen-eyed, she spotted Bea sitting at the kitchen table. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.’
‘Sorry, Dorothy,’ Cal began. ‘This is?—’
‘Elisabetta, is it?’ Dorothy asked, with not such spectacular vision after all. ‘How are you, dear?’
Cal tensed. ‘Um, no. This is Bea. I’m not with Elisabetta anymore.’
‘Congratulations, dear,’ said Dorothy, either not hearing or not listening to Cal. ‘I heard from Callum’s sister that you’re expecting his baby. I’m so happy for you. I always thought you were a lovely couple.’
Bea reeled. It was like someone had doused her in icy water then punched her round the head. How could a little old lady say something that hurt so much? Bea had to suppress every instinct in her body telling her to run upstairs, throw her belongings into her bags and get as far away from here as possible. This woman had mistaken her for Cal’s ex and unwittingly smacked her in the face with a huge reminder that another woman was likely expecting his baby. And a huge reminder that her ex left her for a woman expecting his baby. Cal would be a father soon and it had nothing to do with her. She wasn’t part of Cal’s future, and she wasn’t part of his future as a parent.
What on earth had she done?
The answer to that was that she’d come to Scotland to write, to focus on her novel and make something of herself, to prove that she could be successful all on her own. She’d let herself get involved with Cal because it was no strings, convincing herself she was a cool modern woman who could have fun with a guy and use him as inspiration for her writing without falling for him. But she’d ended up getting way more inspired than she ever should have done. This reminder of his life without her, of how things would go on once she had left the country was a cold, sharp blast of reality. As a writer with an imagination, should never have needed Cal to feel inspired. Finding a muse and going to bed with him was fanciful nonsense to try to distract from the breakup with Josh. All she needed was to get on with the business of writing her book.
Bea didn’t hear the rest of the conversation Cal washaving with Dorothy because she was thinking all these thoughts and the action on around her was like a fuzzy dream sequence. But she jumped out of her daze when she heard Cal shut the cottage door.
‘I’m so sorry about that,’ he said. ‘She’s blind as a coot.’
‘It’s fine.’ Bea gripped the side of the chair.
‘She didn’t know you weren’t Elisabetta. And I feel bad because that was no way for you to find out about the um… “maybe baby” situation.’
