Chapter 3
3
The Hideaway, St Aidan
Happy returns
Tuesday
‘D id Ian Somerhalder lose his way on The Vampire Diaries set and get teleported to St Aidan?’
As Plum leans round the veranda corner post for a better view of Kit my lips are pursed, but the others chorus their agreement.
It’s not only that the guy is so well put together. He might be looking a little overdressed with his sharp trousers, snowy shirt and dark tie, but his smile and laid-back warmth literally radiate as he strolls towards us. I only hope the audience stifle their shrieks before he comes into earshot.
It’s ridiculous for me to feel the kind of attraction that pulses through my body in thousand-volt bursts as I watch him skirting the picket fence. He’s the man who made my wedding ring, and he was engaged himself at the time too, both of which take him right off the table.
As he swings up onto my sand deck my involuntary gasp is huge. Then one whiff of his aftershave blows every bit of my hands-off resolve off the beach.
Somehow I manage to say, ‘Hey, it’s you! Who’d have thought? Guys, this is Kit.’
After that Clemmie steps in. ‘Kit was our heroic helper by the roadside, and this is Plum, Nell and Sophie, and of course, baby Arnie.’ She adjusts the bundle in her arms and Kit comes closer for a better view.
‘Hello again, Arnie, you’ve grown since we last met.’
Guys talking to babies are heart-melting at the best of times, but watching this one blasts my heart into a million tiny pieces. As he stretches out his left hand, I see there isn’t a wedding ring. Not that I’m looking. Or even curious. It’s just useful to know sometimes.
Even if he was there at the birth there’s only so much to say to a newborn. Once Kit compliments Arnie on his cute turned-up nose that’s just like his mum’s and steps back, I brace myself to find out the worst.
‘So, Kit, you’re back in St Aidan! I assume you’ve dropped in for a super-fast look at the new place next door on your way home to Dorset?’
Kit turns to me, and squints into the sun. ‘High Tides?’ Up close his hair is tangled by the wind, and as his smile widens, he gives us the full benefit of his dimples through his stubble. ‘I’m hoping I’ll be here slightly longer this time than last.’
The laugh he gives is so low it reverberates right through my chest. I can’t honestly remember the last time my nipples perked up this much. It has to be that mix of wild and tamed that makes him so irresistible, but with words like that flashing through my head I need him out of my orbit ASAP, if not sooner.
I’m making bargains with myself, trying to focus on the best possible outcome here. I could probably handle him sticking around for afternoon tea. Overnight would be trickier. I’m desperately banking on the millionaire-retreat-prices stopping him from checking in for any longer, because an entire week waiting for him to appear over the horizon might actually blow my mind.
I make my smile really huge and bring out a medium worst-case. ‘Let me guess – you’re staying for dinner?’
There’s that laugh again. ‘Keep going…’ One eyebrow goes up. ‘I’ve actually booked in to High Tides for the next two years, starting today.’
My stomach drops like a high-speed lift. ‘B-b-b-but…’ Surely he can’t have?
Sophie fills the space where my words should be. ‘Don’t keep us in suspense – have you won the lottery, or are you just plain loaded?’
Plum’s eyes are bright with excitement. ‘Wait, I heard about this at the Chamber of Commerce! Are you the artisan jeweller working in collaboration with the hotel?’
Kit nods. ‘That’s me! My Love2Love Atelier is expanding into Cornwall! I’m in the newly built beach huts over there!’
Nell’s not one to let a chance go, so she immediately launches in with ‘If you’re sticking around, you’ll have to come to our singles club events.’ Nell’s so obsessed with the St Aidan singles club she founded, which has now expanded to be St Aidan’s main social hub, we’re not quite sure how she’s going to step away for long enough to get to the labour ward.
My mouth is like sandpaper, but I force myself to beam. ‘Congratulations, they’ll make wonderful workshops.’ On the bright side, even if he does sixteen-hour days, he has to go home at night.
His smile widens. ‘And the best part about this particular package – I’ll be living here too!’
In my mind I’m thumping my head with my fists, jumping about the beach like Basil Fawlty with his worst meltdown ever. But somehow I manage a grimace and a happy voice.
‘Fabulous news. You and I will be neighbours!’
‘Awesome!’ He looks out at the horizon, then looks back at Clemmie and me. ‘For those of you who missed the T-shirt, couples come to me and we design and make their rings together and document their journey. The sunset-over-the-sea shots here will be out of this world!’
My nausea has grown so much I feel like I need a vomit bucket.
‘The ultimate romantic experience you can Instagram for ever!’
Paraded in front of me every single day. I’m fighting to keep the irony out of my voice as I turn to Nell. ‘If ever there was a singles club hook-up made in heaven, it’s this one!’
Nell claps her hands. ‘Absolutely, Kit! Why didn’t I think of that? We’ll do a special event for you to sponsor!’
I was hoping Kit might look terrified at the prospect, but he’s still beaming as brightly as I am.
‘So what’s your work speciality, Florence?’ He turns on me so fast I almost fall down the steps.
‘My what?’
He tilts his head. ‘For the live-work zone?’
Clemmie steps in. ‘Floss will be working under the Little Cornish Kitchen umbrella, adding her own – very special – beach-hut spin.’
This is so absurd, I’m biting my lip trying not to laugh. ‘In summer it’ll be a parasol rather than an umbrella, obviously! All I can divulge for now is … I’m all about the sugar rush, and there will be custard! ’ I have no idea where that came from, but I do keep a large carton handy for my Mr Kipling apple pie habit. It’s a little-known secret that it works wonderfully with ice cream too.
Sophie coughs. ‘And Floss is very keen to sponsor some singles club events too! You could even join forces!’
‘Thanks for that, Soph!’ I thought I’d placated her earlier, but barbs like that mean I’m not completely forgiven.
I hear a snuffle from Clemmie’s arms, so I dash across the deck. ‘So sorry, Kit, we’re going to have to get the baby home, he’s already had a very long first outing.’
Nell gets up from her armchair. ‘Very true. Come on, Clemmie!’
And a second later we’re all trooping off over the dunes towards the track and their cars.
And the moral to that story is: however far downhill an afternoon has gone – it can always go further.
I’m going to have to put in a lot more effort than I imagined if I’m going to get a quiet life!