‘So,’ she says, glancing away from the fire and into my eyes, ‘Xander asked me out.’
I grip my own glass so hard I’m worried it might shatter. ‘Right. Okay. He seems like a nice guy, and I’m told he’s hot.’
‘He is! Weirdly so – it’s like a Hollywood heartthrob playing the role of a hunky fisherman, isn’t it?’
Fuck. I want to kill him. I just nod. ‘If you say so. You gonna go on a date with him then?’
She seems to consider it, the blush creeping back onto her cheeks. It’s adorable, the way she seems to have no control over it. She thinks it, she shows it. Pretty much the opposite of me. I think it, I bury it.
‘Well, I have been considering it. Last night, what I told you during my drunken stupor… it was true. I haven’t, uh, you know what, for years. Plus like you said earlier, maybe I’ve been doing it with the wrong person.’
I did say that. I was joking, but it looks like she took it as life advice.
‘I was thinking that maybe it was time to try again,’ she continues, twisting her hair around her fingers, looking awkward. ‘And I’m on holiday, a long way from home, in a place where I don’t have to be who I usually am. If that makes any sense?’
‘It does. It’s like you’re on vacation from yourself too.’
‘Exactly! For a man who pretends to be a Neanderthal, Brody, you can be very perceptive…’
I shrug. ‘Don’t let it fool you, Kate. I’m a thug at heart. I just spent a lot of time around women, I guess. So. Xander.’
She frowns, and is obviously nervous. I hope she’s not about to launch into some confession about how she hasfeelingsfor him, because that would suck. If Kate wants to see the man, that’s her business – but I don’t especially want to be her go-to guy for boy talk. Apart from anything else, that would make me feel like her dad, and the way I feel about her is not exactly paternal. I’m older than her, sure, but not that much older.
‘Yes. Xander. Well,’ she says, shuffling around and staring into the flames. ‘I realised that although I like the idea of, uh, getting back on the horse, so to speak, he wasn’t the horse I was interested in…’
She pauses. Her tone tells me she hadn’t finished her sentence. Those big hazel eyes keep purposefully looking into the fire, as if it’ll tell her what to say. Then something passes over her face, as if she’s made a decision.
‘That horse is actually you, Brody.’
Her words hit me like an incredibly flattering punch to the gut. I did not see that coming. Her hands are trembling, and I know it must have taken all her courage to say such a thing. I’m momentarily stunned by the whole idea, to the point where I’m incapable of cohesive thought, never mind actual speech.
This woman has stirred me up in a way I’d almost forgotten I could be stirred, I can’t deny it. So much of me wants to lean in to what she said. Lean in to her. But thinking about doing something and acting on it are worlds apart. Gentle flirting is one thing. Being her horse is whole next level. It’s too much responsibility, and I’m not ready.
No matter how much my body says yes, my heart is still hiding in the corner, cowering away from the light. I couldn’t do it to her.
I wait a beat, trying to find the right words to explain all of this. To reject her without hurting her. Trying not to be moved by the hopeful, haunted look on her face, the way she’s avoiding my eyes. I can see the tension building in her body, that she’s already regretting what she’s been bold enough to suggest. It’s my fault, I know.
‘Kate,’ I reply eventually, keeping my tone gentle. ‘That’s not a good idea. I’m sorry, but it’s not.’
I have so much more to explain, but that’s all that comes out of my stupid mouth. All of the air seems to be sucked out of the room, and the only sound is the logs crackling, and the stormy roar of the sea outside.Shit. She looks devastated. I hate that I’ve hurt her, and there are a million things I should probably be saying right now, all of them variations on ‘it’s not you, it’s me’.
Before I can string a sentence together, she jumps up to her feet, a bright and totally fake smile on her face. She hops around for a few seconds, nodding her head and muttering embarrassed words.
‘Kate, look,’ I begin, standing up beside her. ‘It’s…’
‘It’s okay, Brody. It’s all okay. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe I inhaled some cleaning products earlier. I’m not normally like this, honestly… I’m so, so sorry!’
With that, she runs out of the cottage – still barefoot.
TWELVE
KATE
I dash outside, suddenly desperate for fresh air. For distance. To be somewhere else, anywhere else – anywhere that Brody isn’t.
I can’t believe I just did that. I can’t believe I propositioned the man. What the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking, is the simple answer. I was made up entirely of need, of desire, of the desperate yearning to touch him and be touched in return.
