Chapter 9 #2
‘Will there be any other activities?’ Zara asks. ‘Is there a timetable?’
His eyes dart from side to side. ‘We’ll play today by ear. Happy to lead a walk if you want to explore the area? Or we can drive to the beach? I’ll serve dinner outside at about seven.’
Zara wriggles her shoulders up and down, placing a large, bulbous olive in her mouth as Ben gets up from the table, heading into the kitchen.
Jess stands up to pour herself another sangria.
My gaze follows Ben and I see him stop for a moment and rest his hands against the countertop, bending down and exhaling slowly.
I can’t quite read his expression but he looks thoughtful, tired.
I heave myself out of the pool and pull out a towel to dry myself, heading towards the large wooden doors of the kitchen.
‘Ben, I just…’ But as I push the door open, I see Ben in the process of taking his shirt off.
He’s still in his shorts so he hasn’t gone Miguel-level naked, but he turns.
Oh. Where the hell has that been hiding?
He has abs. Don’t stare at him like some piece of meat.
I shift my gaze to the giant hock of ham next to him.
‘Shit. Sorry,’ he says, turning around.
‘Why did you turn around?’ I say, laughing.
I can see his shoulders shaking. ‘I guess to appear more professional. You don’t go to a restaurant and see the ma?tre d’ just whipping his shirt off.’
‘Depends on the type of establishment you’re frequenting,’ I say, smiling. ‘We saw Miguel this morning so nothing can shock me now.’
He turns slowly. ‘It’s just bloody boiling. I was going to ask to get in the pool but I think that crosses a line.’ I notice his stomach shining slightly with sweat and I feel a gulp land in my stomach.
‘It’s a swimming pool, not a bath.’ I laugh. His face, for one small moment, relaxes and it’s a relief to see that. ‘Plus, we’re all in swimsuits so I don’t think modesty should be an issue,’ I say.
He nods slowly, scanning down at me in my swimming costume but then trying his best to avert his eyes elsewhere. ‘I don’t cook like this, I better clarify that.’
‘That’s good to know. I can think of someone on Instagram who does. He’s very popular.’
‘You sound like you know him quite well,’ Ben says, propping himself up against the counter. Don’t look at the waistband of his underwear peeking out from his shorts. Don’t look at the way his hair has curled in this heat. Look at that ham. It’s an impressive ham.
‘I follow him. For the recipes. Naturally.’
He laughs and it’s a pleasing throaty sound. There’s no doubt Ben is attractive but there’s also something satisfying about someone understanding the rhythm of your humour – someone who sees more of you than what’s on show. And I have a lot on show.
‘I actually came in here to apologise,’ I say.
He stands straighter and cocks his head to one side.
‘I think I arrived here on the defensive, strangely tense and not knowing what to expect,’ I explain. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve come across as a bit of a bitch.’
His eyes crease and he shakes his head. ‘Please don’t say that. Maybe I should have thought more about first impressions. You’re a single woman travelling on your own. You were right to have your guard up.’
There’s a moment of silence as I digest this. ‘We’re the first people to come on this retreat, aren’t we?’
A smile creeps across his face. He looks impressed that I’ve worked that out. ‘Maybe.’
‘There’s a lamp upstairs with a price tag on.’
He looks down and laughs to himself. ‘Nothing much gets past you, does it?’
I shrug. ‘I just like honesty, transparency, zero bullshit.’
‘And do I not give off those vibes?’ he asks, standing there with his top off.
I look at my watch. ‘I’ve known you six hours. I thought your name was going to be Lorenzo. There was a naked man in your pool when we arrived, and you drive a sunshine-yellow SEAT. I’m still working you out.’
‘Well, take your time, we’ve got all week,’ Ben says. He smiles at me. I’m not sure what that smile means. Is it vaguely smug? Does he think he can win me over? Not likely.
At that moment, a small, furry face appears at the kitchen door. It’s a tabby cat, mottled in about four different colours. Bright orange eyes look up at me, half its tail is missing.
‘Oh, SHIT…’ Ben says.
‘That’s a weird name for your cat,’ I try and joke.
He stares at the cat who looks deeply unimpressed. ‘That’s not her name; she doesn’t have a name.’
‘It’s probably why she looks so angry. Is this the cat you were telling us about?’ I ask.
‘Yes. This whole house was her domain when it was vacant, so I think she’s a bit pissed off I’ve taken residency. She always appears when I get my ham out.’
This shouldn’t be funny but it is. I stand there and giggle.
He raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Seriously, she is vicious. I tried to rehome her with the lady in the farm next door and she came right back.’ He makes a strange gesture, slowly reaching for the ham; the cat follows his every movement.
She edges towards him and hisses, baring her teeth and swiping at him with a paw.
He dodges it but hisses back. ‘See? I told you. Feral. Get out of here, you’re scaring my guests!
’ Ben stamps his foot and the cat almost laughs at him.
‘Well, not really.’ I go over to her and look her in the eye.
‘Hola, Senorita. ?Qué tal? She’s a Spanish cat, maybe you’re not speaking her lingo.
’ I reach for a tiny fleck of jamón on the counter and put it in my hand.
She comes and eats it out of my fingers, nuzzling her head against my palm.
‘You like the nice man’s jamón, do you? Is it tasty? ’
She purrs. I smile. I really hope you don’t have fleas or something more exotic like rabies. But I look up and Ben is staring at me, smiling. I look away, aware of my face flushing, resisting the urge to giggle. I return my gaze to his big hock of ham instead.