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“Well, not to worry,” I say, trying to dispel the sudden weirdness. “I came well-prepared.”
I thrust my hand into my oversized beach bag.
“I brought books, magazines, a newspaper, sudoku, and—” I pause for dramatic build-up. “—a blow-up ball.”
Owen raises an eyebrow. “You want to play ball?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were a volleyball kind of guy,” I say, immediately picturing Owen diving across the sand in his shorts, arm reaching to smack the ball.
“Maybe twenty years ago,” he points out.
“You’re not that old.”
“Thanks,” he tuts.
“And then, of course, there’s swimming,” I add, trying to move things along. “But I usually like to warm up first in the sun, then go swimming, then sunbathe after to dry off.”
“That sounds very organised for you,” Owen remarks.
“That’s not being organised,” I say, “That’s common sense. But I know you like organisation and routine.”
“Is that so?” he says. “What else do you know about me?”
I pretend to think, as I don’t want Owen to know I’ve catalogued everything there is to know about him in alphabetical order and could recite it backwards. “You like gardening and tea, and you don’t like busy places and hate talking to people, except me. You love talking to me.” I throw him a smile.
“That’s because I don’t get a word in edgeways.” I imagine his eyes rolling behind his sunglasses.
“Not funny. Oh, and you also have a good sense of humour, although it doesn’t rear its head very often. And we can’t forget how stylish you are or your talent for designing kitchens.”
Owen smiles, and as he does, I can’t help thinking about all the amazing things I know about this man who, three weeks ago, I didn’t know at all.
What other wonderful things are there to learn about him? And what terrible things lie under the hurt and scowl and grief and pain?
48
Owen
“And is this still just part of the plan?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“The plan?” Alice fans herself with the magazine.
“The wedding, which I’m attending as your fake date. We were supposed to be getting to know each other so we can pass as a couple. Or have you forgotten?”
Alice uses the magazine to shield her eyes. “I haven’t forgotten about the wedding,” she says at last. “But I’m not here with you today because I’m trying to get to know you because of some stupid wedding debacle I got myself into.”
“Then why are you here?”
“If you have to ask, Mr Shea, then you aren’t as smart as I pegged you for.” And with that, she pulls her sunglasses from the crook of her top and puts them on. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m going to relax in the sun for a bit, get nice and hot before I cool off in the sea.”
She stands, her hair falling down her back as she takes the sun hat off. She then slips the straps of her dress from her shoulders and lets the whole thing slide to the floor. I’ve never been more grateful to be wearing sunglasses to hide my gaze as she stands before me in a bright pink bikini.
She’s all smooth and soft curves. She’s perfect. Nothing like Pippa, who was all bone and angles. I scold myself for comparing her to Pippa, but I can’t help it when Alice is standing right next to me like a siren.
“Not going to lose you on the beach today,” I say to try to staunch my brain of the image of what I’d like to do to her right now.
“What do you mean?” She coils her hair around her hand and pins it effortlessly up into some messy style, which sums up Alice in a beautiful, chaotic way.
“You’re wearing the brightest bikini known to man. I’d be blind right now if I weren’t wearing these sunglasses.”
