Chapter Eight
Finlay drew back, furrowing his brow slightly as he looked at Genevieve. She still had her eyes closed, like she’d be quite happy if he dipped in and kissed her again. And honestly, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Why were the words of ‘The Shoop Shoop Song’ ringing around his head? His brain had adapted the lyrics to suit him and the woman in front of him. It’s in her kiss. If love hinged on one kiss, that was a pretty good one to start with. But hang on… Love? What the hell? Why was he thinking such nonsense? This was what he’d done with Elise – shut his eyes and leapt in without thinking and look where it had got him.
Genevieve’s eyes were open now. Her hand gently slipped off his beard and she blinked like she was coming out of a trance. ‘We’re good at this, aren’t we?’ she said with a slight twist of her neck.
He smiled; her deflection was excellent. ‘At what exactly? Pretending to be lovers? Or kissing?’
She lifted an eyebrow and did a quick sideways glance. ‘Both.’
‘You’re not wrong. Now let’s get some air.’ He put his hand on her back as they moved into the garden. He half expected her to recoil or move away from him, like Elise did. She always shrugged him off or got touchy about him ‘helping her’ to walk when she could move perfectly well on her own, which wasn’t what he was doing at all – or he certainly never meant it in that way. Genevieve, however, didn’t seem bothered. She glanced around, smiled at him, then pinched some tortilla chips from his plate. ‘You should have got your own plate,’ he muttered.
‘It’s not like you can’t go back for more. There’s enough there to feed several hundred people and, believe me, there will be leftovers. There always are. Mum hires caterers but they box up the spare food and leave it at the end.’
‘They can send it my way. I won’t complain.’
They walked along the very clean path towards the trellis fences he’d spotted when they arrived. Red roses tumbled around them. ‘It’s like a fairy tale garden this,’ he said, nibbling a prawn sandwich. ‘I’ve never seen so many roses.’
‘My mum loves them. Come through the gate and see this.’
He followed her through an archway in the trellis.
‘Oh wow.’ The garden opened up into what looked like a maze of more trellises and hedges. As they walked, it became obvious that the route was planned to relax and not tease like a real maze. Although there seemed a natural way to follow, it was wide enough to not feel boxed in and there were plenty of openings and lower fences, so there was no chance of getting lost. Set into alcoves were pretty little white wrought iron benches and loveseats. In some there were statues. One had a fountain. ‘What is this place?’
‘The rose garden,’ Genevieve said. ‘Mum had someone design it. It’s supposed to be a blend of a maze and a stately garden. I think it’s a bit strange. You can’t really get lost but it still makes me a bit dizzy.’
‘That’s the prosecco.’ Finlay’s gaze roamed around. ‘I think there’s something magical about this place. I like it.’
‘It is pretty, and it smells so beautiful. There’s a pond in the middle. I think it would have been better if there was a hot tub.’
Finlay shook his head with a grin. ‘Don’t they cost an arm and a leg to run? Probably doesn’t sit well with your dad’s eco business.’
‘He would have it running on solar panels. It’s one of his bestselling lines among his friends.’
‘Solar panels for hot tubs.’
‘Yup. I’m not joking.’
‘I don’t even see how that’s possible.’
‘Well, you need a big garden because it’s a minimum of four panels, plus you need to be south or west facing.’
‘Not one for my balcony then?’
‘No.’
Finlay plonked himself on one of the wrought iron benches. ‘Let me finish this. I’m so hungry.’ He wolfed down the rest of the food. Genevieve sat beside him, stealing a few things and bouncing her toe; her shiny heeled pumps glinted in the early evening sun. ‘Have you got restless leg syndrome or something?’
‘I’m bursting for the loo. It’s the prosecco.’
‘Well, go then. We don’t want an accident.’
‘Very funny. I was being polite and waiting for you to finish.’
‘That’s me done. I’ll get me some seconds while you’re at the loo.’
They headed out of the rose garden into the main area where people milled around the lawn. A few stopped to speak to Genevieve. Finlay stuck close by, keeping his hand on her back and liking the way she drew closer to him whenever a likely lad approached.
‘I love their reactions when they see you,’ she said as they got to the main door.
‘I said I should be your bodyguard. That’s what I feel like.’
They were in almost exactly the spot where the kiss had happened earlier. ‘Are you ok to go to the loo by yourself? I don’t have to accompany you in there, do I?’
‘No, but wait for me at the buffet table, so I know where to find you quickly.’
‘Ok.’
She hastened away and Finlay strolled to the buffet table and added seconds to his plate. Servers were still dotting around with drinks. He nabbed another glass. Maybe he should go to the loo too. He’d knocked back a fair bit of this stuff already.
‘Hey, Finlay. I didn’t expect to see you here,’ a man’s voice said.
Finlay spun around, almost spilling the contents of his glass. Who did he know here? ‘Logan, hi.’ He relaxed a little. Logan was a friend from the cycling club, laid back and fun. Not someone to gossip, though he was sure to know all about the Elise debacle. Who didn’t?
What would he make of Genevieve and how quickly Finlay had apparently moved on? His eyes darted towards the doors, checking for ways out. Maybe he could shake off Logan before Genevieve returned, but he didn’t want to be rude. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Geoff Harrington is a big supporter of my camping business, Heather Glen. We won a grant from him a few years back and we’ve kept up the working relationship.’
‘That’s great.’ Finlay looked at the young woman who moved in beside Logan. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ears and smiled a little shyly.
‘I don’t think you’ve met my wife,’ Logan said. ‘This is Eleanor. Eleanor, this is Finlay McBride. He’s in the cycling club and the tug-of-war team.’
‘Hi.’ Finlay shook her hand. As he did, he noticed her other hand curling around her tummy, cradling an obvious baby bump. Making sure nothing untoward showed on his face, his insides slumped. Not because he wasn’t happy for these two. He just wished one day it might be him standing next to someone carrying his baby. He was ready. But he hadn’t found a partner who was on the same page.
‘And what about you?’ Logan asked. ‘Why are you here?’
‘Oh… Um… I’m with my girlfriend.’
Logan’s brow furrowed slightly but he kept smiling. ‘Sorry. I must have got the wrong story. I thought you’d split up.’
‘This is’ – he cleared his throat – ‘someone different.’
‘Oh.’ Logan looked happily surprised. ‘Well, that’s great.’
‘Yeah. I know it seems fast. But—’
‘When you know, you know.’ Logan smiled at Eleanor. ‘We pretty much fell for each other the second we saw each other. It happens.’
‘Ha. Doesn’t it just.’ Finlay knocked back almost the whole glass of prosecco. So far, it really hadn’t worked out that way for him.
‘Hi.’ Genevieve appeared at his side and took his arm. ‘Oh…’ She looked at Logan and screwed up her face like she was concentrating hard. ‘I recognise you.’
‘I’m Logan Ramsay. I own Heather Glen Campsite and Water Sports Centre.’
‘Ah, yes. I met you a while back. Gosh, ages ago actually. I came around with Dad. He was with his friends, the Langfords.’ She pulled a face and Logan nodded.
‘How could I forget? They were… interesting, shall we say.’
‘You don’t need to sugarcoat it for me. I think they’re as mad as a box of frogs.’
He laughed. ‘What do they do these days? Have they succeeded in their dream of moving up here?’
‘I honestly don’t know. Dad hasn’t mentioned them for a while.’
Logan gave a little shrug. ‘So…’ He looked between Finlay and Genevieve. ‘Is this your girlfriend?’
‘Indeed.’ Finlay slung his arm around her and pulled her close.
‘Do you two know each other?’ Genevieve said.
‘Uh-huh,’ Finlay said. ‘Logan and I are in the cycling club and tug-of-war team together. And this is Logan’s wife, Eleanor.’
‘I think I’ve met you before too,’ Genevieve said.
‘I was there the day the Langfords were looking around Heather Glen. It was before we were married.’
‘Ah, yes. Now I remember…’ Genevieve glanced at Finlay, her somewhat manic grin not totally hiding the panic in her eyes. ‘Well, we, um…’
Logan and Eleanor looked like they were waiting for her to finish or perhaps chat more about how Finlay and Genevieve had met – especially as Logan clearly knew about Elise and the breakup.
Finlay took a deep breath. Nothing much they could do about it. The cat was out of the bag now. Oh well. In a month, Finlay would be in Dubai. He wouldn’t see Logan or anyone from here for a long time. They could gossip about him all they wanted.
‘It’s like Logan said when you were at the loo,’ Finlay said.
‘What did he say?’ Genevieve glanced from Finlay to Logan and back.
‘If you know, you know.’ Finlay gave her a squeeze. ‘And we pretty much knew right from the minute we clapped eyes on each other how perfect we were, didn’t we?’
Genevieve’s mouth fell slightly open. ‘Um… Yes. We did.’
Logan chuckled. ‘You two are really cute.’ He gave Finlay a little wink and picked up a plate from the buffet.
‘Um, yes.’ Genevieve gaped at him.
‘Nice chatting to you,’ Eleanor said.
Genevieve lifted Finlay’s plate and beckoned him to follow her. She opened a door off the large circular room that led into a corridor. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Playing along.’
She slapped her hand to her forehead. ‘You’re mad.’ Her voice was a little raised but she looked ready to burst out laughing – perhaps hysterically.
‘Is that the loo?’ Finlay asked.
‘Yes.’
‘My turn. Grab us another drink, will you? We can go back out to the rose garden and eat. It’s quieter there, so it’ll keep us out of trouble.’ He nipped into the somewhat space-age toilet with blueish lighting and all the fittings built in with curved lines. Presumably this was a private bathroom and not the one the other guests were using. He washed his hands in the gleaming basin and headed out to find Genevieve.
‘Finlay,’ she called to him from behind and he looked back down the corridor.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Help me.’ She was beside an open door and looked like she was trying to lift something. ‘I’ve found a stash of real champagne. Let’s take a bottle or two.’
‘What if your parents are saving that for something?’
‘Ah, so what? They can buy some more. Honestly, they won’t even notice. If they do, they’ll think some old charmer like Alan found his way in and nobbled them.’
‘And here was me thinking you were a perfect angel.’ He took the two bottles she handed him and cradled them in his arm.
‘I am an angel, of course.’ She handed him his plate and batted her lashes. ‘You may add it to my résumé.’
‘Along with tantric temptress and all that other stuff.’
‘Precisement.’
‘Since when did you become French?’
‘A la now.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Are you drunk?’
‘Probablement.’
‘I’d say certainement.’
‘Mais oui, Monsieur. Definit-ement.’
He laughed and shook his head. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ As they crossed the circular room, Finlay kept his eyes forward. He didn’t want to bump into Geoff Harrington while he was making off with his expensive champagne. He could always tell him it was so Genevieve and he could celebrate their forthcoming marriage. If his earlier reaction to their being together was anything to go by, he’d be ecstatic.
Genevieve swiped two glasses from a passing server and they headed back to the rose garden.
‘If you go that way, it leads to the middle. We can sit by the pond,’ she said, pointing a glass towards a wide opening.
‘And pretend it’s a hot tub?’
‘Whatever tickles your fancy.’
‘Is that part of the tantric experience?’
‘Oh, ha ha. Aren’t you funny?’
‘You know… I think I’m drunk too. I feel a bit—’
‘Please don’t say nauseous. I hate sick.’ She screwed up her face.
‘I was going to say giddy.’
‘As long as it doesn’t lead to you throwing up.’
Finlay laughed and stopped to wait for her. ‘You know what?’
‘What?’ She gave him a pained look, possibly still fearing he might vomit all over her.
‘I think I do fancy you.’
‘What?’ She gaped. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Yeah.’ He laughed too. ‘Why not? You’re fun to be around.’
‘Wow. That’s like… Well, a really nice compliment. And…’ She turned a little pink and her smile suddenly looked a little less certain. ‘I always fancied you.’
‘Yeah right. We’re definitely drunk,’ he said. ‘But I’m not drunk enough to believe that. At least we’re happy drunks. Ah, look. This must be the pond.’ He peered around a trellis into a small, paved area with a sunken pond covered in water lilies; a fountain rose in the centre and water cascaded down the sides. One of the pretty wrought iron benches was at the opposite edge. He made for it, resting his plate on a low wall and putting the bottles on the ground.
Genevieve sat and he moved in beside her. She handed him a glass and they clinked them wordlessly then simultaneously took a sip. With an almost huffy exhale, Genevieve bent over and put her glass on the ground. ‘You know what?’
‘Tell me.’
‘I was telling the truth. I have always fancied you.’
He frowned, not sure whether to believe her or not. His head was so light he wanted to believe it but this felt like such an Elise-style game that he just couldn’t. ‘Ok, even though you’ve always been like the ice queen around me?’
‘I was embarrassed.’
‘Really? So… do you, um, want to do something about it?’
She eyed him over, then slowly nodded. ‘I’d quite like to sit here and kiss you.’
‘You would?’
‘Yup.’
‘You know how insane that is? Because we’re just messing about for the duration of this party, right?’
‘Fully aware.’
‘And you still want to…?’
‘I do.’
‘Well, how can I resist?’ He never bloody could. Dumping his glass beside his plate, he turned to face her. She seemed to move at exactly the same time, taking his face in her hands as he slipped his arms around her and their lips met.
A fairly drunk kiss ensued. Her lips were warm and tender, but they were both smiling, so the kiss was definitely lacking in finesse. It wasn’t screen perfect and wouldn’t win any prizes, but it was pleasurable. Genevieve let out a little moan and tilted her head, allowing the kiss to deepen. Suddenly it became hot. A bit too hot, maybe… or maybe not. His brain was addled by alcohol and happy hormones.
Whatever.
He relaxed into it even more and Genevieve let out a little sigh. The sound sent bolts of lust bursting through Finlay.
‘Genevieve.’ The word came out like a breathy growl sent from somewhere deep in his subconscious.
‘Yes?’
‘I think we’ve officially taken this too far. I mean… Well, no one’s even here. We don’t have to pretend.’
‘I wasn’t.’
Their eyes locked, and he wanted to kiss her again, but he didn’t. He turned and retrieved his glass. ‘This is madness. I’m not on the market, you know that?’
‘Who said I was? This is just fun, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes. But we shouldn’t really…’
‘Because you’re on the rebound.’
‘Not exactly. But I’m done with dating and complications. I’m leaving the country to get away from, well, everything.’ He gulped back his prosecco. ‘Let’s open that champagne.’ He lifted a bottle and started prising off the foil cork cover with the wire.
‘You’re leaving the country?’ She furrowed her brow. ‘I think Elise told me that. Is it Dubai?’
‘Sure is. I’ve had enough of being messed about.’
‘By Elise?’
‘She was the last straw.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Do you want to know why I proposed to her?’
‘Because you loved her?’
‘I wish that was the reason, but it’s not really. I liked her, and we ticked along together.’ He shrugged and ripped off the cork cover. Slowly he manipulated the cork with his fingers.
‘Haven’t you got one of those knives with the corkscrews?’ she asked.
‘No, but do you have a key?’ He fished in his pockets. Had they come in his car? He couldn’t even remember. ‘Here I’ve got mine.’ He pulled his keys from his pocket and as he did, he felt something else. A box. What is that? His mind slowly waded through memories. The ring. Christ, he’d shoved it in there earlier when Genevieve had picked it up. He had to remember it was there. That ring was too valuable to lose, especially when he was already guilty of defiling it.
He wound his house key into the cork.
‘So, why did you really want to marry Elise?’ Genevieve asked.
‘Call me sad if you like, but I just wanted to be normal. A guy with a wife and a couple of kids. I want to raise a family, take the kids to sports club and the park. I’m ready for it but… Well… You see what happened.’
He tugged on the key and with a soft pop, the cork shot out.
‘It didn’t work out.’
‘Yup. Story of my life.’