Eleven
Having kept my eyes trained on the front door of the restaurant, and having moved my chair again in order to do so, my heart gave a little leap each time someone came in. I checked my watch every minute or so but I think I can safely say those five minutes were the longest of my life. At least that’s how it felt. When Sam did eventually arrive and I watched him walk towards me, I wanted to run to him and throw myself into his arms.
Except that wouldn’t have been cool, and, to be honest, after three large glasses of white wine, I wasn’t sure I could walk properly, let alone run. I hadn’t eaten since around eight a.m. that morning, and I’d been so excited, and also slightly anxious about spending the week on my own, that I’d only had a banana … and several cups of coffee. The wine had gone straight to my head, and the remnants of the caffeine probably hadn’t helped.
I was having palpitations and it was as if Sam was walking in slow motion, his hair dancing around his shoulders with each step and his faded jeans and dark blue T-shirt hugging every muscle as he moved. The smile on his lips made my entire body go limp, and his eyes lit up as he finally reached my table, sending a surge of excitement from my head to my toes. I think I actually gasped.
‘Hi, again,’ he said, his voice soft and yet husky. He ran a hand through his hair and then he looked me in the eye as he gripped the back of the vacant chair. ‘I’d planned to play it cool.’ He laughed sardonically. ‘That lasted all of five minutes. Seeing you again was such a surprise. I felt … I feel … I didn’t want to wait till later. Does this sound crazy?’ He let go of the chair and took a step away, and then a step towards me and then he held up his arms as if he wasn’t sure what to do or say next. ‘It does, doesn’t it?’ He laughed again and shook his head. ‘I’ve imagined this so many times and yet, now you’re here, I’m behaving like a jerk. May I sit?’
‘Please do,’ was all I could say.
He sat opposite me and took a deep breath and then he stared at me for a second or two.
‘I still can’t believe it’s you. That you’re here. Especially after all these years.’
‘Neither can I.’
‘What made you come back? And why now?’
‘Erm.’ I wasn’t expecting so many questions, and after all the wine I’d drunk, together with the effect just looking at him was having on me, I couldn’t think clearly. ‘I booked a last-minute romantic break for me and Ted. My boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend, I mean.’ I shook my head in the hope that it would clear my thoughts. ‘Erm. I saw the cottage in Midwinter online, and I thought it looked nice.’
He furrowed his brows as he scanned my face. ‘Nothing to do with me then? With us?’
‘Erm.’ I must stop saying, ‘erm’. It really wasn’t helping. I met his intense gaze. ‘Us? I … I don’t think so. And yet...’ I shrugged. ‘Perhaps it was. I … I still think about that week … sometimes.’
‘Me too.’
‘Are you ready to order?’ the waitress asked Sam, startling us both, having appeared from nowhere. Or so it seemed.
‘What? Yes.’ He looked at me.
‘I’ve already ordered.’
‘Oh. I’ll have whatever my friend’s having. Thanks. And a bottle of white wine, please.’
‘Would that be a bottle of Sancerre, sir? That’s what your friend has been drinking.’ The waitress glanced at me, and at my, once again, empty glass.
‘Yes. That’s fine, thanks,’ Sam said.
She took my glass and walked away.
‘When did you break up?’ Sam repositioned the cutlery at his place setting, avoiding my eyes as he spoke. ‘Was the relationship serious?’
‘With Ted?’ Sam nodded, so I continued. ‘On Thursday night. And, yes and no. We’d been dating for more than a year but … something changed after the new year. I … I booked this break in the hope that it might bring us back together. But all it did was made us both realise we were drifting further apart. Ted asked me to cancel. I refused. So … he ended it. But it was sort of mutual. I’m not upset. Just, maybe, a little sad that another relationship hasn’t worked out. Sorry. I’m rambling.’ My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I hadn’t meant to say so much.
Sam shook his head. ‘Not at all. Is that what you want then? A relationship?’
I gave a small laugh. ‘Doesn’t everybody?’
Sam’s shrug surprised me. And yet, in a way, it didn’t. But his words did.
‘I don’t,’ he said, his eyes locked firmly on mine.
‘You don’t? Not at all?’ I laughed nervously. ‘Perhaps you just haven’t met the right woman yet.’
He frowned. ‘It’s just not me. Relationships, I mean. Don’t get me wrong. I like dating. I like having fun. But a long-term commitment isn’t on the cards for me.’
‘Oh. I see. I remember that’s how you felt ten years ago, but I thought you might’ve … changed your mind since then.’
‘No. Nothing’s changed.’
He was looking at me so intensely and I had a feeling he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.
‘And Jenna?’ I couldn’t help myself. I had to ask. Now it was me who felt the need to rearrange my own cutlery.
‘Jenna’s a friend.’
‘A friend you’re dating?’
‘No. But we did hook up for a couple of weeks last summer. Nothing serious.’
‘Because you don’t have relationships?’
His eyes scanned my face. ‘That’s right. But Jenna still does some work for me from time to time.’
‘Work? What sort of work? What do you do for a living?’ I tried to make it sound casual, but even to my ears it sounded as though I was giving him a grilling. ‘I seem to recall you saying work was a necessary evil, or something along those lines.’
He laughed. ‘That sounds like me. After that summer, I went travelling, as I’d planned. And you went to uni.’ He waved a hand in the air. ‘That was a lifetime ago. Anyway, I bought a bike.’ He grinned. ‘A motorbike. And I loved it, so when I came home, I opened a bike shop and garage. Adventure, Sport, Roadsters, Modern Classics, and Vintage. Starter bikes to top of the range. I buy, sell, and repair them all. New and used.’
‘Wow. That’s a surprise.’ I shot a look at his hands. He clearly took care of himself. The skin was smooth and his agile fingers didn’t look like those of a man who repaired motorbikes.
As if reading my mind, he said, ‘I have a mechanic. But I do like to get my hands dirty from time to time.’
I remembered how good those hands had felt on my body and I wished the waitress would hurry up with that wine.
‘And … how does Jenna fit into that? You said she does some work for you from time to time.’
‘Jenna? Yeah. She’s one of the models I use for my ads.’
‘Ads? You run ads? And have models? Crikey. You’re in the big leagues.’
Again he laughed. ‘I wouldn’t say that. But I do okay. The ads are for the local press, my website, and for the specialist magazines. They’re not on mainstream TV or anything. How about you? You wanted to be a wedding dress designer, I seem to recall.’ He licked his lips as though he was nervous. Perhaps, as he didn’t have relationships, the word, ‘wedding’ had that effect on him.
‘Yes. My young dream. I do design a few, but I’m not exclusively a designer. Mum and Dad split up and Mum owns a bridal shop in Kingston upon Thames. That’s where we live. I help her run the shop and we also have a thriving online business too.’
‘That sounds great.’
‘So … does Jenna lounge seductively on your bikes, then? In your ads? For all the guys to drool over her.’
He snorted with laughter and shook his head, pushing back a thick lock of hair with his hand. ‘Nope. She’s in the ads to sell bikes to women, not guys. Although I’m sure she does both. She’s a bit like the women in perfume ads. She’s there to sell the dream.’
He pulled out his phone, scrolled a few pages, and then showed me a collage of Jenna in black leathers, and Jenna in a dress similar to the one she was wearing today, astride a massive beast of a bike, and Jenna standing beside a gleaming and obviously expensive bike with a gorgeous hunk of a man standing behind her, but she was clearly the one in control. Jenna was already selling the dream to me.
‘Oh!’ I cocked my head to one side. I’d thought of perfume ads when I first saw her, so it was strange that Sam had used that comparison too. Or maybe not. ‘She’s good at her job. Would I look that sexy, powerful, and in control, if I bought a bike from you?’
He raised his brows and then a devilish smile spread across his mouth. ‘You don’t need to buy a bike to look like that, Lucy,’ he drawled.
‘Shall I pour?’ the waitress asked, appearing beside us with a bottle of wine and two sparklingly clean glasses. ‘Your meals will be with you momentarily.’
‘That’s okay, thanks,’ said Sam. ‘We’ll do it.’
The waitress placed the bottle and the glasses on the table, and Sam began to pour the wine as she smiled and walked away.
‘Where were you meant to be right now?’ I asked, having been wondering how he had managed to get out of whatever it was he and Jenna had planned to do when they had left.
He shot me a look but continued filling our glasses before he answered.
‘On a photoshoot, as it happens. But they didn’t really need me. My team know what I want. I dropped Jenna off at Elliot’s – he’s a photographer, and a good mate of mine, and checked everything was okay, and then I called you, having decided I’d rather be here than there.’
Before I could respond, the waitress had returned with our meals. She really had meant they would be with us momentarily.
‘Please let me know if there’s anything else I can get you,’ she said. ‘Enjoy your meals.’
‘Thanks,’ Sam and I said in unison.
He held up his glass and I did likewise and we clinked them together. Although I was still trying to get my head around the fact that he’d left a photoshoot to come and have lunch with me. And that he had ‘a team’. And models. And a photographer.
‘Cheers,’ he said. ‘Here’s to a great week.’
‘Cheers,’ I replied. ‘I second that.’
We both took mouthfuls of our drinks and then he looked at me as he put down his glass.
‘Do you have plans?’
‘Plans? Oh, for today, you mean? I’ve been invited for drinks with my neighbours around six-ish, but other than that, no.’
Sam narrowed his eyes a fraction and an odd sort of smile hovered on his lips. ‘For this week.’
‘Oh! Erm.’ I coughed to clear my throat. ‘Not really. No.’
I took another sip of wine, feeling even more nervous and self-conscious than I had before.
‘Would you like to spend it with me?’
I was so surprised by that question that I almost spat out my wine, but I managed to choke it back, and I somehow settled my glass onto the table without spilling a drop.
‘What?’
He shrugged one shoulder. ‘Feel free to say no. I won’t be offended. But … we had a great time when you were last here, didn’t we? I … hoped we could do so again.’
I could feel my jaw drop as I stared at him. Was he for real?
All I managed in response was, ‘Erm.’ Even that sounded more like a squeak than a word.
I grabbed my glass and took several more gulps. The last time I was here, Sam and I had spent most of the week having sex. Great sex. Fantastic sex. Mind blowing sex. But after that first day together when he taught me how to sail, we did little else but have sex. At least, nothing I could really remember right now. Is that what he was suggesting?
I shivered with anticipation, quivered with excitement, and tingled with delight at the very thought of it. All my dreams were coming true. And I’d only been in Fairlight Bay for an hour or two.
Well, perhaps not all my dreams. Sam had already made it clear that relationships still weren’t his thing. If we spent this week together it would simply be another holiday fling for him. Could it be merely that for me? Or would I want it to be something more? It had been ten years and I still wasn’t over him. Could I risk having sex with him all week, without risking my heart breaking, all over again?
‘Sorry,’ he said, shaking his head as he reached for his own glass. ‘I could’ve phrased that better.’ He had a quick swig and then he smiled. ‘What I meant was, it would be great to spend some time with you this week. If you don’t have any plans. I could show you the sights. Take you sailing. Have you sailed much since … then?’
I shook my head. ‘No. Erm. That would be nice.’
His eyes held mine. ‘Yes. It would. I could give you a tour on my bike. Do you like bikes?’
I shook my head again. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never been on one.’
‘Never?’ His look now was one of incredulity.
‘Everyone I know has a car. Apart from you. Do you have a car? Or just a bike?’
‘Two bikes and a car.’
‘Oh. Erm. A bike ride would be nice. I think.’
‘You’d be safe. I’d make sure of that. And we could do … other things. Anything you want to, really. I’m easy. What I mean is, I’m happy to do anything you’d like to do. I just … it would be great to … get to know you again.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That would be … great.’
Our eyes locked. My heart raced. Electricity coursed through every inch of me. But we were both avoiding talking about the one thing I was sure was on both our minds.
Sex.
‘Is everything okay, here?’ The waitress was back again.
‘Yes,’ said Sam, not taking his eyes off me. ‘Everything is…’
‘Great.’ I finished the sentence for him, but then I dragged my eyes away. ‘We should eat before this gets cold.’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I suppose we should.’