Best Mistake Ever

Chapter 10

10

JONAH

Dammit! How the hell did I read that so wrong?

I pace about, back in the cottage, cursing my bad judgement – again!

Clearly, I was high on adrenaline after feeling so relieved and positive about our performance – probably because it was the first time I’ve enjoyed performing in a very long time – and I misread the signals.

I could have sworn she was into me though. Especially after she tried to kiss me the other day. But it turns out she was just high on prescription drugs.

Or so she says.

That has to be bullshit, doesn’t it? It’s certainly the most far-fetched excuse I’ve ever heard. But then it might account for the change in personality I’ve witnessed recently.

Mightn’t it?

Flopping down onto the sofa, I put my head in my hands, my fingertips digging in to my forehead.

Argh! What’s she playing at? Is there something going on here that I’m just not seeing? I know I’m being completely paranoid, but does Tessa have some hand in this? But why would she? She’s not made contact with me at all since leaving and she has no skin in the game here financially. It was my money that paid for the place to be renovated and because we weren’t married and don’t have any kids, I don’t owe her any maintenance. Not that she’s ever asked for it.

So what’s going on then? Is this some kind of twisted game that Dee’s playing with me? First coming on to me hard, then backing off fast. Trying to get me hooked into something with her, something she can control? But why would she do that? It doesn’t chime with anything I’ve seen of her in the last few days.

Shit! What’s happening to me? Tessa did a real number on me when she ripped my trust to shreds and it seems to be having repercussions through my entire life. Am I destined to always read women and their intentions wrongly?

Jeez, I hope not.

But then maybe it’s not such a bad thing for me to be on my guard now. At least I won’t be taken for a fool again if I’m being vigilant for it.

Anyway, it seems clear I need to separate how I’ve started to feel about Dee recently from our working relationship. I don’t want to mess things up and lose a really good employee when I’ve only just found her. And on the surface, she seems keen on keeping things professional between us too.

If only my body would get the memo. I’m still turned on from kissing her, then not being able to take things further. I haven’t felt this level of need for sex in ages and now I’m supercharged with it.

I stand up and start to pace the room again, not sure what to do with myself. Only one thing for it: I need to take care of this incessant urge myself before I’ll be able to sleep. With that thought in mind, I pop the button on my jeans, slide down my fly and take my cock in my hand, picturing what I would have done to her amazing body if she’d not called a halt to things. I relive the feeling of her full breasts under my hands and the way her hard nipples pressed urgently into my palms. So fucking hot. I imagine how wet she would be for me when I slid my fingers inside her, finding the exact spot to give attention to, turning her wild and pliant under my touch. I imagine the expression on her face when she climaxes, moaning my name. I come hard, revelling in the blissful release as my body finally gets the relief from the sexual tension I’ve been holding at bay for the last few days.

In the morning, I wake up with another iron-like erection, having dreamt about Dee and our near miss, which my addled subconscious turned into a very definite hot hit.

I try to shake off the craving to make it real that’s got me by the throat as I scoff down some breakfast, feeling as though I’ve run a marathon already this morning.

Wandering over to the house, I find an early-morning yoga session in full flow on the front lawn. The attendees are contorting themselves into impossible-looking poses and letting out loud, visible breaths into the cool, morning air.

The sun has made another appearance today and it’s making the dew on the grass glint and shimmer as far as the eye can see.

As I walk into the house, I hear the sound of dance music pounding away, coming from the direction of the ballroom. Poking my head around the door to it, I’m amazed to see a large crowd of people dressed in full-on dance gear throwing themselves around to the beat, as if they’re all at a rave. I stand, dumbfounded, watching them, feeling a weird sense of displacement. It’s so strange to see people dancing like this in the bright, morning sunlight.

A guy in a furry, turquoise onesie squeezes past me into the room, giving me a grin and a nod of greeting.

‘Hey,’ I say to him. ‘Has this been going all night?’

‘No. It started at seven this morning. It’s a great way to start the day. The best kind of exercise!’ he says and dances away from me into the crowd, whooping and punching his fists into the air in time to the music.

I stay and watch the joyful revelry for a minute more, fighting another urge to join in with the fun. I really shouldn’t allow myself to be enticed by it. I’m here in a professional capacity and I can’t let myself get drawn into what’s happening here. I have my reputation – what’s left of it – to think of.

It occurs to me now that the festival has reminded me of how much I loved partying in my former life and that’s probably had some bearing on the way I acted towards Dee last night. I’m suddenly angry with myself for letting my dick get in the way of common sense.

I’d decided not to get drawn into a fling with her but I’d gone and let myself be side-tracked by the idea of it anyway.

I sigh and turn away from the dancing.

Some days, being an adult isn’t a lot of fun.

Outside, more people are milling around now, yawning and stretching in the soft, morning sunshine.

Feeling a sudden weariness descend on me, I turn back towards my cottage. I suspect I’m going to need strong coffee if I’m going to get through today.

Back in my kitchen, I make myself a double espresso and add two spoonsful of brown sugar to it before knocking it back. I wince a little as the hot liquid burns the back of my throat, but the warming sensation of it hitting my stomach gives my spirits a lift.

I should get back out into the sunshine and have a walk in the fresh air. Sitting inside my house and brooding all day about what happened last night would not be helpful.

So, I drag myself out again and take a walk over to the apple orchard, avoiding the lake – a place I’ve not been able to visit since the thing that happened there trashed my relationship and my reputation – and wander through the leafless trees with their twisted and gnarled branches standing stark against the grey-blue sky, drawing in deep lungsful of cold, fragrant air. It’s so peaceful here, even with the low-level hubbub of the festival waking up humming in the distance.

I had such high hopes for this place when I first convinced my dad to let me take it over, but it all ground to a halt when Tessa left and I’ve not quite found the impetus to get things going again. I was hoping Dee might be the one to help lead that, and I guess she might still, based on the effort I’ve seen her put in in the last few days.

In fact, focusing on that would be a good way to get past the awkwardness that’s bound to be there between us now. Feeling in a more positive mindset, I set off back to the festival to see if I can find her and clear the air quickly so we can move on from it.

Since I’ve been away from the site, the rest of the attendees seem to have emerged from their tents and are strolling towards the large marquees where the workshops are being held before lunch is served.

Outside each of the tents, there’s a blackboard with the name and a short description of the event written in white chalk on it. I walk past each one, reading, with increasing interest, about what’s about to take place inside.

There appears to be a ‘Cuddle-in’ in one of them.

Intrigued, I poke my head into the tent and see a large group of people sitting or lying around on a ground sheet covered with cushions and furry rugs, all hugging someone close to them. There’s nothing sexual about it – everyone is fully clothed, but there’s a lot of contented-sounding sighing going on.

My skin tingles at the thought of being held like that again. It’s been a long time since I cuddled anyone and after the aborted kiss with Dee last night, my body is back on high alert for physical contact.

Just as I’m about to step out of the tent again, the workshop leader calls out in a soothing voice for everyone to swap partners. There’s a big shift in movement as everyone untangles themselves from their cuddling partner and moves to wrap themselves around someone new, first asking that person’s permission. It seems, from the way they’re being so polite, that they don’t all know each other. It blows my mind for a second to see everyone so open to being that physically close to a stranger. It’s actually really cool though. If only this was a more common practice in the ‘real world’, there might be a lot less loneliness.

With that thought swirling through my head, I back away quietly and stroll over to the next tent, wondering what I’ll find happening in there.

It’s a shibari workshop.

People are sitting in a large circle, each with a partner, and with lengths of rope laid out neatly on the floor in front of them. The instructor is demonstrating on a volunteer how to safely tie someone up. They’ve already had their legs tied and are now having their torso bound in an intricate pattern of rope and knots, which looks a bit like a corset. It’s actually quite beautiful and I’m mesmerised by the skill of the person doing the tying.

Again, I back out quietly, feeling like a bit of a peeping Tom.

In the next tent, everyone is lying down on the ground while a couple of people walk slowly between them, playing percussion instruments like bells and gongs in overlapping, soothing-sounding waves. According to the blackboard, this is a sound bath. I’ve heard about these, how they can be good for stress, but I’ve never tried it myself. I’m not sure I could allow myself to sink into it enough to let it do me any good though. I’m definitely too strung out at the moment to lie still for long enough for it to have any impact on my rattled inner calm anyway.

I’d hoped, after moving here from the noise and chaos of London, that I’d finally start to find the peace that’s always eluded me – except when I’d been staying here at this house. But the stress only seemed to increase as I came to realise that Tessa wasn’t happy here.

A familiar sadness settles over me as I remember the good times we’d had together, mostly in my hedonistic, partying days.

I genuinely loved her and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with her. She was my ideal woman: smart, funny, charismatic and an incredibly fun person to be around. It always felt like an adventure, being with her.

But I guess I wasn’t enough for her. It seems it was my fame, or rather my dad’s fame, that drew her to me and kept her around, but as soon as it was just me and her, it became clear I wasn’t enough on my own. She needed more than I could ever give her.

And she definitely didn’t need quiet like I did.

In fact, I think she actually thrives on chaos and busyness and noise.

Coming out of the tent, I’m aware of that sense of restlessness from this morning has returned. It’s like there’s something else I should be doing, but I’m not sure what that is.

Then I spot a familiar figure in the distance, going into one of the other marquee tents and something in my brain clicks into place. I’ve been hoping to see Dee, to smooth things over, and here’s my opportunity. Perhaps if we talk and maybe get to laugh about what happened, it’ll be okay. We’ll be able to get past it and my sense of agitation will pass.

So, I stride after her and make it into the tent in time to see her being handed a hula hoop by a woman wearing an all-in-one sequined leotard and a headdress made of beads.

Dee has a quick word with her, then smiles and walks into the middle of the room where there’s a space between people already attempting to get their own hoops to stay up on their waists by rocking their hips in a thrusting, sort of circular motion.

It takes me back to my infant school days where our teacher used to try, and mostly fail, to get us to be co-ordinated enough to do this in a PE lesson. I was always useless at it and ended up getting sent to sit on the side when I point blank refused to do it. So, when someone comes over and tries to hand me a hoop, I wave them away and move to the side to watch how Dee fares with hers.

It doesn’t seem to take her long to get into the swing of it and as I lurk at the back watching her, I feel even more like a peeping Tom. There’s something quite erotic about the sight and I’m unable to drag my gaze away from her. She’s so graceful in the way she moves, as if her body is entirely fluid and one with the hoop. The small smile playing about her lips makes me wonder about what makes her tick in other situations: what makes her happy, excited, what turns her on…

I tug down the front of my shirt to hide the growing interest in my trousers. Dammit. I really need to stop thinking about her as a woman and concentrate on the fact she’s my employee and very keen to keep that line drawn between us.

It’s so hard to do that when she’s moving the way she is. With such confidence and abandon.

But I have to, because that’s what we agreed.

‘Hey, Dee. Can I talk to you for a second?’ I call over the music.

She doesn’t look round, just keeps on hula hooping.

I’m pretty sure she would have heard that; it’s not that loud in here.

‘Dee?’ I shout a little louder.

Still no reaction. That’s weird. She’s not ignoring me, is she?

‘Delilah!’ This time, my slightly aggravated shout gets her attention and she jumps and spins round to look in my direction, looking first a little shocked, then wary.

‘Can we have a quick chat?’ I call, in a less aggressive tone this time.

She frowns, as if she’s working out whether she really wants to join me right now. Then her expression clears and she gives me an awkward-looking wave. ‘Um. Yes, sure. Okay,’ she calls back.

Her uncertainty gives me pause. Is she worried about being around me now?

After letting the hoop drop to the floor, then stepping out of it and handing it to one of the people running the workshop, she strides over to where I’m standing. Is it my imagination or is she nervous? Her hands flutter at her sides as she picks her way between the people between us, then smooth down her thighs as if she’s trying to tidy the skinny jeans she’s wearing.

My heart sinks at the realisation that she’s probably going to be really uncomfortable around me now.

I silently curse my misunderstanding of the situation last night.

I still can’t believe I got it so wrong.

It makes me question what else I’ve got wrong recently.

Unease settles on me like a heavy blanket.

‘Let’s go outside,’ I suggest when she reaches me. I really don’t want an audience for this conversation.

She nods and follows me out of the tent and onto the lawn. Most people seem to be either in a workshop or still asleep so there’s no-one in our vicinity.

‘Hey,’ I say.

‘Morning,’ she says with a tight smile.

‘Enjoying yourself?’

Her face falls and she clears her throat, looking castigated. ‘I’m in the process of checking the workshop leaders have everything they need. I just stopped for a second to have a quick go with the hoop.’

I hold up a hand. ‘I didn’t mean to suggest you weren’t doing your job properly.’ Frustration rattles through me. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? Jesus, I hope not. ‘Look, I know I’ve made things awkward between us after what happened last night. I just wanted to apologise for that. I read the situation all wrong, clearly.’ I hear the gruffness in my voice and hope she doesn’t think I’m angry about it.

I’m not. Just embarrassed. And a little bit fucking frustrated.

‘No need to apologise. Seriously,’ she says. And she sounds like she really means it too.

I relax a little.

There’s an odd expression on her face that I’ve never seen before though and it stops me from feeling completely convinced that we’re back to where we should be. I guess we need a bit more time to regain our equilibrium.

There’s a muffled scream then a whump whump sound from the tent to the right of us and we both turn to look at each other with concern. That doesn’t sound good.

As one, we turn and hurry towards the tent entrance. I push aside the canvas door and enter the tent in a rush, intent on finding out what the hell’s going on in there, my heart thumping hard.

I come to an abrupt stop, with Dee nearly bumping into me, as I take in the sight of a large group of people, all armed with pillows. They’re swinging away at each other with them, aiming for each other’s torsos or legs, their faces showing a mixture of determination and elation. There are shouts and squeals of delight as they lay into each other, their soft weapons of choice making the gentle whumping sounds we heard from outside.

‘Pillow fight!’ Dee says on a gasp of relief and amusement.

‘Here you go,’ someone says to our right, tossing us both a pillow covered in a soft, cotton pillowcase. ‘Get stuck in!’

I turn to look at Dee to see what her reaction is to this bizarre instruction.

She grins back at me and raises her eyebrows in question.

Am I up for it?

Yes. I think I am.

And I’m determined to get the first blow in.

Without a word, I raise one eyebrow in a show of challenge, then quickly swing the pillow forward in a gently swiping motion, connecting with her left arm.

Her eyes widen in mock outrage and she swings her own pillow in a wide arc, catching me on the hip.

There’s a moment’s pause, where we stare intently at each other, then, suddenly, with tacit understanding, we go at each other properly, landing blow after blow on each other’s back, legs, shoulders. Shrieks and giggles escape from her as she takes a volley of soft thumps from my pillow, before retaliating with her own wide, on-point swing, that lands right in the middle of my back.

Even though it doesn’t hurt a bit, I let out a sharp exhalation of breath as it’s knocked from my lungs.

I turn to see her double over with laughter, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed.

It hits me, like another blow to my body, just how beautiful she is.

This has the effect of suddenly sobering me up and I lower my pillow, raising a hand in defeat, fighting back the renewed rush of desire I’ve been shoving away hard since waking this morning.

Dammit.

‘Okay, I concede. You win,’ I tell her, not able to look her in the face now. If I do, I’m afraid I might do something stupid, like try to kiss her again.

There’s a small pause, then out of the corner of my eye, I see her drop her own pillow onto the floor next to mine.

‘Excellent,’ she says, but I hear a hint of disappointment in her voice. It seems she was having fun, knocking seven bells out of me. ‘I suppose I’d better get on with my job.’

I nod, still not meeting her eyes. ‘Yeah, me too.’

We wave our thanks to the person leading the pillow-fighting orgy, leaving the rest of them still at it, and make our way back out of the tent.

‘One last tent to check on here,’ Dee says, heading towards the final one in the row. A thumping base begins from somewhere inside it. I glance at the blackboard next to the door and see that Lube Wrestling is written on it.

What the hell?

Intrigued and, if I’m honest, reluctant to walk away from Dee right away, I follow her, with some trepidation, into the tent.

There’s a big group of people all crowded round a large child’s paddling pool, its primary colours garish against the natural-coloured tones of the tent. In it are two people, one male, one female, both dressed in swimming costumes and nothing else apart from a single sock each. The pool appears to have about an inch of viscous-looking liquid in the bottom of it. From its thick, shiny consistency, I can tell it’s not water. It’s lube. And both people in the pool are covered in it. It shines on their skin, giving them the look of two seals fresh from the sea.

Except they’re doing something I can’t imagine seals ever doing.

They’re wrestling, attempting to pull the lone sock off the other’s foot, contorting themselves into impossible-looking shapes around each other’s bodies and sliding around the pool in their attempt to evade the grasp of their opponent on their own sock.

It’s the most ridiculous, hilarious thing I’ve ever seen.

The crowd are going wild for it, a chorus of cheers and hoots emanating from them as the music pounds away from a speaker nearby, driving the participants on.

‘Fancy having a go at that next?’ I jest, turning to quirk my eyebrow at Dee, then immediately worrying she might misconstrue that as a come on.

‘That’s a hard no from me.’ Luckily, she seems to have taken it as the joke I meant it to be.

I grin, sweeping a hand over my hair, feeling my earlier jitters returning. Time to go.

‘Okay, well, I’ll see you later at the party.’

‘Great,’ she says. There’s an awkward pause where she smooths her own hand over her hair, looking a little taken aback when her fingers reach the end of her bob, as if she wasn’t expecting it to end there.

Apparently, she’s still as nervous as I am about where our relationship currently resides.

‘See you in a bit,’ she mutters, before turning on her heel and striding away from me and out of the tent, her gait a little less graceful than usual on the uneven ground.