‘Yes,’ I eventually managed. ‘I’m here on holiday. Well, in Midwinter, strictly speaking.’
He smiled again and then furrowed his brows. ‘Why Midwinter?’
Still trying to regain some composure, I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could. ‘Why not?’
‘No reason, I suppose.’ He slowly shook his head and a thick lock of hair brushed his cheek on one side of his face.
His hairstyle was called a messy cowlick. I remembered that from the time Erin and I had scanned the pages of a style magazine for men at our hairdresser’s one day a couple of weeks earlier. We’d both laughed at that and then had a lengthy discussion as to why such a sexy hairstyle would be given such an unsexy name.
Like the model in that magazine, Sam’s dark hair was shoulder length with a vague, there-but-not-there side parting, and a sort of long fringe swept back from his face.
Sandra, our hairdresser, informed us that men with this style would use wax to keep their locks in place, giving a type of wildand windswept look without the curtain of hair falling in front of their eyes.
But Sam’s looked natural and product free and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to reach up and run my hands through his hair.
The beautiful woman, whom I’d completely forgotten about, coughed, and stood up, linking her arm through Sam’s, somewhat possessively.
‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your …friend?’
The slight hesitation and then the inflection on the word friend made it sound as though she saw me as an enemy.
‘What?’ Sam dragged his gaze from me having also momentarily, it seemed, forgotten his stunning companion. ‘Oh, yes. Sorry. Erm. Jenna, this is Lucy. Lucy, meet Jenna.’
I might have been imagining it, but I thought I detected a hint of irritation in his voice.
‘Hello, Jenna,’ I said, throwing her as friendly a smile as I could muster.
‘Hello back, Lucy.’ Her smile was definitely forced. ‘And how do you know Sam?’
He looked at me and I looked at him.
‘We were … friends, once,’ I said, the question having been directed at me. ‘Many years ago.’
I saw his brows come together. ‘Lucy was here on holiday. Ten years ago. I … taught her how to sail.’
That sounded rather matter of fact, despite his hesitation, and I was tempted to add that he taught me alotmore than that. But I was pretty certain Jenna wouldn’t want to hear about it.
‘How long will you be in Midwinter?’ Jenna asked.
‘A week,’ I replied, taking a quick glance at Sam to see if he reacted.
‘Just a week?’ he queried.
I nodded. Was I imagining the disappointment in his eyes?
‘When did you arrive?’ Jenna shot a look at Sam as she spoke.
As did I when I answered. ‘Today. About an hour or so ago.’
‘Well,’ said Jenna, moving forward. ‘This was nice. But we should go Sam, or we’ll be late.’
‘What? Oh, yeah. Erm.’ Sam’s frown turned into a smile. ‘We must have a drink and catch up, Lucy. Give me your number and I’ll call you. It’s been a long time.’
‘Yes, it has,’ I said, catching the flash of anger in Jenna’s eyes.
‘Sam!’ Both Sam and I looked at Jenna, who quickly smiled. ‘Lucy might have a boyfriend, or something. And you can’t just demand you have a drink together after not seeing one another for ten years.’ She laughed, but it was obvious she wasn’t amused.
‘I don’t,’ I hurriedly said. ‘Have a boyfriend.’ That made me sound sad and pathetic, so I hastily added. ‘I did have one. But we broke up last week.’
