‘We guys aren’t all strong, silent, and non-communicative.’ He laughs. ‘Ivy told me, but Bill filled in the gaps.’
‘Oh my.’ Nic turned my legs to jelly before, but with this open, soft-centred version, it’s ten times harder to think clean thoughts. Picturing him naked is nothing – right now I’ve knocked him onto the sand, jumped on top of him, and I’m about to pash the socks off him. But actually, it’s more than that. I’m thinking how lovely he’d be to come home to, sitting on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table, Merwyn on his knee …
But he breaks in. ‘You’re doing it tough now, but you have to trust that when the time is right, all the pieces of your life will fall into place.’
‘You really think my life will click, like it did for Bill and Ivy?’
He smiles at me. ‘So long as you keep believing, you’ll get those “his and hers” matching slippers and the comfy sofa and the dog.’ He can have no idea right now that the feet I’m picturing in those slippers are his.
I laugh because he sounds so certain. ‘Back at you, Captain Kirk.’
Instead of grinning, he purses his lips. ‘Not everyone deserves a happy ending as much as you. Some of us won’t ever get there.’ As he turns towards me, he’s smiling down at me, but his eyes are dark and shot with pain.
‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?’
‘Probably not.’
The way he hunches his shoulders and lets out a long sigh, all I want to do is throw my arms around him. To rock him and make him feel better. He looks so sad and lost, my heart aches for him. It’s as if there’s an invisible cord between us, drawing me to him. But before I can move my legs, he takes a step towards me. One tiny step. It’s a small patch of sand, but he’s crossed an unspoken barrier to a whole other place. As he arrives in my space, my heart clatters against my ribs so hard I’m jolting.
He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating out of his body. See the individual hairs on his forearms. So close that when I reach straight upwards, my palm is grazing his jaw. Rubbing his cheek. My thumb is following the line of his cheekbone. And he’s tilting his head, pushing so hard against the pressure of my hand, I can feel the scratch of his stubble on my fingers. Then he’s closing his eyes. Biting his lip. Turning. He slides his mouth to gently brush the skin of my inner wrist. I hold my breath, letting out the smallest whimper as I sense the flicker of his tongue.
My whole body is screaming. Primed. Bursting with anticipation. His eyes darken as he dips. Slowly, gently. It’s completely unexpected, yet completely right. My mouth’s already watering, anticipating how he’ll taste. I’m listening to the pounding of the waves, telling myself this is real. Then, as I part my lips and close my eyes, there’s a scuffle. A bark. And as Merwyn collides with my knee I jump sideways and Nic lets out a shout.
‘Merwyn, what the eff?’ As Merwyn gallops away again, his tongue lolling out, Nic lets out a groan. ‘Well, thanks for that mate.’ He pulls a face at me. ‘Probably for the best. That wasn’t very professional of me, was it, Milla Vanilla?’
As I rub at the tingling skin on my wrist, Merwyn dashes back with Abby who’s panting even harder.
She tugs at Nic’s denim jacket and points along the beach to the higgledy-piggledy wooden building with the deck in front. ‘That’s the Surf Snack. Me and Daddy have our hot chocolate there.’
I’m staggering as I realign myself. I just manage to get it together enough to smile as I think how much cuter Abby’s name for The Surf Shack is than the real one.
And then the moment moves on and from the way Nic’s grinning down at her, I can tell he thinks so too. ‘I heard they do a greatFrozensundae in there.’
I’m blinking in surprise. ‘You did?’
He gives me a nudge with his elbow. ‘Keep up, Milla, I thought ice cream was your specialist subject – and comforting miserable sailors.’ He holds out his hand to Abby. ‘How about we race Milla?’
Abby gives him a hard stare. ‘Actually, Daddy carries me on his shoulders for this bit.’
I can’t help laughing at her. ‘Hitch up your princess dress, and we’ll ask if Nic will do the same.’
Nic’s smiling down at her. ‘It’s a few weeks since I carried a princess in a long dress, isn’t it, Milla?’ He grins at me over the top of her head. ‘Let’s see what we can do.’
As his eyes widen for a moment and lock with mine again, it’s like he’s acknowledging what we just missed. I’ve got Merwyn to thank there … nothing to do with how awkward it might have made the run up to the wedding. I should be grateful for the lucky escape. For saving myself from a guy whose life statement means, however delicious his touch is, he’ll always walk away. And I suppose back there I caught him at the same kind of weak moment I had the day he was making pancakes on the boat. When all he wanted was some human touch to make him feel better. Nothing more.
Abby’s eyes are so wide I’m laughing again. ‘The princess Nic carried was much heavier than you, Abby, but I’m told he did a great job.’ I whistle for Merwyn. ‘Good boy, come and have your lead on.’
‘If your royal highness is ready?’ Nic sends Abby a wink.
Then he swings her into the air, wedges her on one shoulder and strides off across the shingle as if he’s done this every day of his life.
And all I can think as I hurry after them is not that I’m going to smother my triple vanilla ninety-nine in raspberry sauce and then totally demolish it. It’s that, looking at how natural Nic is with Abby, he wasn’t born to be an effing playboy. What a waste that would be. He was born to be a dad. And if there’s a tiny voice inside my head as Merwyn and I bounce up the broad bleached wooden steps to the Surf Shack, screaming,pick him, grab him, jump him and have his babies, well, I really didn’t hear it.
Chapter 28
Sunday, ten days later.
The Potting Shed, near Okehampton, Devon.
