Chapter 8
‘Wow, that’s the beach?’
After tramping downhill through the dry forest for ten minutes, the trees had finally started to thin, offering glimpses of cliffs and deep blue water. Now the forest gave way to jagged rocks and, far below them, a lonely little cove where the white heads of the water rushed over pebbles.
Toni was destined to be surprised over and over again this trip, it seemed. At least this one was a pleasant surprise. The wild view and the hot sun, the secret beach with turquoise water promised exactly the break she’d hoped for.
Cillian would have loved it. Her mum might have said she should stop thinking about Cilli and enjoy the relaxing rush of the waves, the mysterious basket of refreshments Gabri had packed and the chance to clear her mind and refresh her energy, but she liked the stab of regret that her son wasn’t there.
Perhaps she’d be able to bring him back here the following week – although not with Gabri.
‘I promise, you’ll be lounging in a chair under an umbrella soon,’ the man himself replied from four steps ahead of her, where he was negotiating a rocky path – if it could be called such, since Toni could barely make out where she was supposed to step.
She understood now why he’d insisted she wear her sneakers.
‘If you’d rather, we can go to one of the main beaches and hire you a lounger and buy drinks, but I thought I’d show you my beach first.’
‘Your beach?’
He looked back up at her with a grin. ‘No one else is here, yes?’
No umbrellas adorned the smooth, pale stones; cliffs protected the cove on both ends and even the landside was steep and impassable – unless you knew the hidden path Gabri was following. It was only the two of them and the blue-green sea.
‘I didn’t think this was possible in Italy in July.’
Picking her way after him, she slipped and slid down the final few feet over slanted rock, groping for something to hold on to but finding nothing.
‘Aspetta! Wait, let me help you.’
She would never have expected she’d hold his hand twice in one day, nor that she’d feel so disoriented by an excursion where she hadn’t taken responsibility for anything – not the destination nor the supplies.
As the pebbles moved under her feet with a pleasant clatter, she took a deep breath of the salty air and tried to find that reset everyone thought she needed.
Lounging at the beach – that’s what she’d suggested for their first day.
She had her e-reader, full of books she’d read half of over the years but never managed to finish.
Gabri had carried a lightweight lounger and a padded blanket.
The complete and utter peace of the view was… giving her the willies, actually. Quiet usually meant there was something she was neglecting. Neglect had been her biggest fear since the day she’d had to force Cillian into a world where his father was dead.
Trying to shake off the unhelpful thoughts, she toed off her shoes, tugged her summer dress over her head and made straight for the gentle waves, picking her way gingerly over the large pebbles.
Almost too late, she remembered she hadn’t applied sunscreen and made her way back to her rucksack.
‘Okay?’ he asked, as though her wobbly thoughts were written on her face. That was a frightening prospect.
Holding up the tube in overdone triumph, she smiled artificially brightly. ‘I don’t want to end the day a shrivelled radish.’
‘I like radishes.’
She blinked at him. He wasn’t looking at her, but out to sea. When he turned back, his expression was pinched.
‘Was that a strange thing to say?’ he asked.
‘Yes, but…’
He rubbed a hand over the back of his head, making his hair stand up in a wild tangle. She wanted to say something – anything – to relieve the awkwardness, but when she finally settled on something, he grasped the neck of his T-shirt and whipped it over his head, stealing the words away again.
‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I just like radishes. I mean, I like you, too – at least, when we’ve got to know each other again—’ He swallowed visibly, pressing his lips into a pout. ‘Should have kept my mouth shut?’
‘No,’ she rushed to assure him, a laugh building in her chest.
‘I’ve obviously been singing to myself for too long – I mean, I’ve been on my own a lot for a long time.’
‘Why is that? And don’t tell me it’s because you eat too many radishes?’ She smeared sun cream on her nose as she waited for him to gather up what looked to be a long answer.
He finally began with a shrug. ‘I live alone; I work alone.’
She moved on to her arms, the echo of things he wasn’t saying hanging in the air. ‘Why don’t you join a mah-jong group – or get a dog?’
‘So I can talk to a dog?’ He looked up from where he’d apparently been distracted by her application of sun cream.
‘No one would judge you for talking to a dog – except maybe your mother?’
His eyes were bright with amusement. ‘I chose this life, so I can’t complain about it.’
‘I didn’t choose my life – and I’m almost never on my own, even though I’m always alone, if you’re talking about adult company – but I still say you’re allowed to complain if you need to.’
He was silent for long enough that her skin prickled, his gaze so intent, she almost felt as though he were touching her. ‘That’s very gracious,’ he said softly. ‘I’m not sure I deserve it. I would never get a dog precisely because I like being on my own. I need to be on my own.’
‘Perhaps you’re right, you shouldn’t complain about it then,’ she said, studying his pained expression.
She tried to concentrate on her sun cream again, rather than the odd conversation that seemed to be skirting around so many topics, but she quickly encountered a problem: the plunging back of her swimsuit. She flushed just imagining him helping her, but she also didn’t see any other option.
She must have hesitated for too long because he peered at her and asked, ‘Allora, do you want me to put the cream on your back?’
Handing him the tube wordlessly, she was determined to feel nothing when his fingers touched down on her skin.
She even succeeded for a moment, distracted by the force of his hand, almost strong enough to make her stumble forward, but a moment later, the movement of his palm along her spine felt more like a massage, sending endorphins shooting through her nervous system, waking up receptors in her skin she’d forgotten existed.
He took his time, working the cream in. He was a full arm’s length away and didn’t take a step closer, which she appreciated, since she suspected the proximity would have awakened more than just her dormant need for touch.
It was divine, the way his fingers danced over her shoulder blades. She was out of breath, but also slightly woozy with the serotonin – and melatonin and the rest of the cocktail of natural chemicals suddenly rushing through her system.
She didn’t want to think about the last time someone had touched her like this.
‘Fatto,’ he murmured as his hand dropped away. Clearing his throat, he translated, ‘You’re done.’
‘Thank you.’ The words came out a scratchy squeak.
They said nothing as they set out the picnic blanket and parasol.
Toni’s head spun, thoughts of her life at home and this enigmatic, shirtless man who was trying so hard to be her friend mixing up together – and the striking blues, greens and golds of the cove punching her in the gut with their beauty every time she turned to look.
Perhaps her mum had been right: she was desperately in need of a relaxing holiday.
She was also uncomfortably warm now the sun was high in the sky and she’d spent ten minutes on the exposed beach. There was a convenient solution to both problems only a few feet away.
‘Last one in is a rotten egg!’
Bolting for the water, she felt him close behind her and upped the pace.
‘You didn’t give me any warn—’
The rest of his grumble was drowned out as she tripped and crashed into the waves.
The taste of salt touched her tongue and the sun-warmed water enveloped her.
Pebbles shifted as she flailed for purchase to push herself up to sitting position.
But she was buoyant – in her chest, if not the rest of her body. She came up laughing.
‘I think you received your punishment for calling me a rotten egg.’
She took his hand and let him haul her to her feet, refusing to think about those hands – that chest. Don’t touch the thistle.
‘That wasn’t an insult. It’s a childish dare,’ she explained. He was tanned everywhere, which only made her wonder how often he got about without being properly dressed, since being alone all the time would make clothing optional.
‘I would say the last one has to buy the drinks,’ he replied with a grin, before slipping into the water and heading out with strong swimming strokes.
Toni more than matched him, glad the muscle memory of cutting through the gentle waves in open water came straight back to her, even though she hadn’t done much serious swimming in years.
She followed him out to where the cliff faces tumbled into the sea, the stone smooth at the waterline.
There were hidden crevices in the rock, little cave entrances.
‘This feels like an adventure story,’ she commented.
‘We’ve been marooned on this deserted island with only our clothes and now we have to survive for long enough to be rescued.
’ Heat rushed to her cheeks as her brain supplied further twists in that story.
It would be a romance. Starting out strangers, they would learn to trust each other and then, when their clothes were little more than tatters, they would—
Thankfully, his contented smile didn’t indicate he had any idea of what was going on in her mind. ‘Luckily, I packed lunch,’ he said with a wink. ‘The rescuers might be a while.’