Nine
‘Sam!’
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Or my luck.
Of all the restaurants in Fairlight Bay, of which there were several for such a small town, we had both chosen, Freddie’s Fish and Chips, today.
‘It is you,’ he continued, looking so pleased to see me I almost threw myself into his arms. ‘My god. It’s been ten years and yet you haven’t changed a bit. You look … fantastic.’
His eyes travelled the length of my body from top to toe and back again and then that devastatingly gorgeous smile I remembered so well, spread across his generous mouth sending tingles of delight – and of lust – right through me.
‘You look pretty good yourself,’ I said, not having intended to say that aloud, as I struggled to drag my admiring gaze away from his body. The way his dark blue T-shirt hugged his chest beneath that jacket left little to my imagination, and once again, all those memories came flooding back. His body had been firm and toned and pretty damned hot ten years ago. Today it looked twice as impressive. And oh so appealing.
I coughed to try to regain my self-control.
‘Thanks,’ he replied, his eyes twinkling mischievously. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘Waiting for a table.’ I couldn’t think of anything brilliant to say, as usual.
He grinned at me. ‘I meant, here in Fairlight Bay.’ And then the grin broadened, and a hint of something danced in his eyes. ‘Are you here on holiday?’
For a second or two, silence filled the narrow space between us, as my eyes bore into him, and his eyes seemed to bore right into my soul.
Were we both remembering my last holiday here, ten years ago?
I know I was.
‘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 wild and 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 a lot more 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.’
Sam looked relieved, but again, I might’ve been imagining that. Wishful thinking is a powerful thing.
‘Sorry,’ he said, sounding anything but, as he smiled at me.
‘No need,’ I replied. ‘It was amicable. We’re still friends.’ Why did I keep saying that? Ted and I were unlikely to hang out together now that we had split up.
‘Sam,’ said Jenna, tugging his arm with hers. ‘We’ll be late. Come on.’
‘Table twenty-four,’ the waitress called out. ‘Your table’s ready.’
‘I’ve got to go,’ said Sam, his gaze fixed on my face.
‘My table’s ready,’ I replied, standing in his way.
‘It was so good to see you again, Lucy.’
‘It was good to see you too, Sam.’
He lingered for a moment and then he smiled and stepped to the side of me.
‘And I’d love that drink,’ I quickly added. ‘If you still want to catch up.’
‘I do,’ he said eagerly, beaming at me, as Jenna glowered at us both.
I suppose I shouldn’t have sounded quite so keen. But what was the point in pretending? I’d told myself over the years that if I ever did see Sam again, I’d act cool and uninterested. I’d be aloof and mysterious, or some such rubbish like that. Instead, I’d jumped at the first opportunity to spend some time with him. I didn’t know if he was single, dating Jenna, or even married. Maybe I should’ve asked. And perhaps I should’ve felt guilty, but I didn’t. I reeled off my number and he tapped it into his phone. I just hoped, if we did meet for a drink, he didn’t bring Jenna with him.
‘I’ll call you later,’ he said.
‘I can’t wait,’ I replied.
‘Sam!’ Jenna snapped.
He sighed. ‘I’ve got to go, Lucy. Enjoy your lunch. I’ll see you soon.’
‘I hope so, Sam.’
And once again, as I had done ten years ago, I watched him walk away from me – but this time he had a stunningly beautiful woman hanging onto his arm. A woman I could never compete with.
And yet, this time there was more than a smidgen of hope in my heart, especially when he turned to look back at me and he smiled that devastating smile, before Jenna literally dragged him out of the door.