Chapter Thirty-Seven
Jessica was grateful for the warmth of Reuben’s hand around hers and she didn’t want to let go.
She gripped it more tightly as he led her through the crowds and out of the way of the main throng of shoppers.
Neither of them spoke as they walked up Buchanan Street and away from Zander and Princes Square.
Reuben only stopped when they reached the inside of Queen Street station.
He turned to look at her. ‘Are you okay?’ he said, his voice etched with concern. He reached out and touched her face tenderly.
Jessica put her hand over his. ‘Thank you.’ She was so glad that he had turned up when he did. Although she had never been the type who needed the cavalry to step in and fight her corner, she wasn’t quite sure what she would have done if Reuben hadn’t arrived.
‘You don’t need to thank me,’ he said softly. ‘I’m just glad that I arrived when I did.’
‘Me too.’
‘Your face is white. You’re in shock.’
Jessica’s teeth were now chattering. ‘I should probably go home.’
He shook his head and took a long, ragged breath. ‘Come back to mine. Let me get you warmed up properly, Jess. And then I’ll take you back home to Rowan Bay.’
Jessica was shivering and her mouth felt dry. She nodded at Reuben and he took her shopping bags from her, then reached for her hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around hers.
‘Much as I’d like to grab a taxi, I think we’ll be quicker getting the train.’
She nodded slowly and followed him in a daze as he led her to the platform downstairs.
There were only a few stops to where Reuben’s flat was in Hyndland and a train was about to leave.
He led her on, his hand at the small of her back, which was reassuring and made her feel better.
It made her feel safe. She was also too aware of the fact that the nerves in her body were tingling at his touch.
It didn’t matter how hard she tried not to be, she was so attracted to him, and even more so after he had come to her rescue.
The journey was brief and they didn’t talk at all.
As they left the station, the snow started to fall, and Reuben pulled her close.
He kept his arm round her until they got back to his flat, which was a main door apartment in a Victorian building five minutes’ walk from the station.
Opening the door, he put down her shopping bags then took her snow-covered jacket from her and she slipped off her shoes.
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, leading her to the sofa. ‘I’ll make you some tea.’
‘Thank you.’ She sank onto the sofa gratefully, shivering.
‘Here,’ he said, placing a blanket over her shoulders. ‘Hopefully you’ll start to warm up soon.’
While she waited for him to make the tea, she curled her feet up underneath her and burrowed into the seat.
It was dark outside now and she stared at the glow of the street lamps and watched the snow as it fell more heavily and started to blanket the road.
She listened to the sounds of horns honking and sirens outside.
It was so noisy compared to home. Looking around, she realised that there were no photographs on the walls and no personal touches.
Although it was stylishly decorated, with its polished wooden flooring and period touches like the cast iron fireplace with its tiled hearth, she couldn’t help noticing how sparsely decorated it was in comparison to Primrose Cottage.
It felt like a functional living space rather than a home.
‘It’s a bit different to Primrose Cottage,’ he said, walking back into the room with two mugs.
‘You must have read my mind.’ She smiled as he handed her a mug. ‘It’s just very . . . different. A bachelor’s pad.’
The air felt charged as though something was about to happen. She leaned forward and put her mug on the floor, her hands growing clammy. She knew she wanted to kiss him. But all of a sudden she was overcome with nerves.