Chapter 3 #2
Disappointment floods through me, as I’d been so looking forward to spending time with him, but I clear my expression immediately. “Why are you sorry? It’s a business, babe, and things happen.”
“Yes, but we were going to get our stories straight for the wedding.”
“What wedding?” I say blankly and then jolt. “Shit. I’d forgotten that.” For some reason, he looks pleased. I wave a careless hand. “We can do it tomorrow.”
“Isn’t that leaving it a bit late?”
It takes me a few seconds to work out what day it is. The wedding is tomorrow. It had seemed important in London, but now it’s fading into a hazy background the longer I’m in Devon. The day after the wedding, I’ll have to go back, and I already hate the idea.
“Nah. It’ll be fine.” I try to put on a bright voice. “So, you’re going into work?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to.”
The honesty is clear in his voice, and I smile at him as my belly warms. “Well, we’ve got tonight, as Kenny Rogers once said.”
He hesitates and then says, “You could always come with me.” I open my mouth, and he immediately rushes into speech.
“Ignore me. That was stupid. You must be tired. You can stay here and relax, and I’ll try to get done as quickly as I can.
” He looks at his watch. “That’s not usually possible, though,” he admits. “These tours can get really busy.”
“At a honey farm?” I say, astonished.
His lip twitches. “People around here do seem very passionate about honey.”
“So it seems.” Excitement fills me. “So, could I come with you? Really?”
“If you want to.” His smile is a little shy, and it makes me feel absurdly possessive of him. He’s always been too nice, and people used to take advantage of that.
“I absolutely do.”
“You sure you don’t want to rest, Georgie?”
“You know me. I don’t like sitting around.”
“I remember it well. Clive used to say you were like a cat on a hot tin roof.”
“How absurd. You know I don’t like heights.” I stand up. “I’ll just grab my jacket, and we can get off.”
I’m absurdly excited to look at this honey farm that he’s so proud of. For a second, I think of my ex and the wedding, but it’s unimportant when I’ve got much better things to do.
We take the Land Rover and a dirt track that I remember used to lead to the old barley fields. It offers a small peek of the sea. “Do you still have that old beach hut at Bier?” I ask.
He smiles immediately. “We do. We were going to sell it, but then Sophie got pregnant with Jamie, and we decided to keep it. We had so many good times there as a family.”
“I loved it. It was like a grown-up doll’s house. So cute.”
“It used to make my mum smile to see you opening and shutting the cupboards like a little housing inspector.”
“I was a very nosy child.”
“She said you had a bright mind and an inquisitive nature. She used to call you Sparrow.”
“God, I’d forgotten that. Was it a very polite way of saying I was nosy?”
I look at his big hands on the wheel. He drives like he lives—with a quiet assurance and steadiness. It’s very endearing.
He clears his throat. “So, Simon invited you to his wedding. You still talk, then?”
“Good god, no,” I say, startled. “I haven’t spoken to him since we split up.”
“Which time?”
I snort. “Good point. We did split up a few times.”
“Anthony and Cleopatra had a less chequered romantic history.”
I pinch him, and he chuckles, turning a laughing face to me that makes me catch my breath. He’s so handsome.
“Why did you split up the last time?” he asks.
“Eh?” I think back. It seems to take a while. “I actually can’t remember. Oh, shut up,” I say as he starts to laugh.
“You can’t remember?”
“Nope. I think Simon’s tantrums were a bit like switching a plug on and off. Eventually, my fuse blew. We were absolutely terrible together.”
He scratches his chin. “It was very tempestuous. You were the weekly entertainment at school. The teachers still remember when you cut up Simon’s clothes and threw them over the rugby pitch. I went to a school reunion last year and mentioned your name to Mrs French.”
“She never liked me after I set fire to my oven in Food Technology.”
“Well, she actually crossed herself this time.” I laugh, and he shakes his head. “I never knew why you were with Simon, to be honest.”
I grimace. “Neither do I. He was from a world I didn’t fit into.”
The car swerves slightly. “I beg your pardon?”
I spread my hands. “It’s the truth. I never quite fit in with his rich friends and family.
He was playing at being in a relationship, and even the dramas seemed performative on his part.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind a good argument, but there has to be a point to it.
Otherwise, it’s just hot air and screaming.
” I snort. “That could be the title of my life.”
“I agree with you on the relationship, but you’re wrong about one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
He signals to turn into a car park. “You would fit in anyone’s world, Georgie. You’re charming, funny, and exceptionally bright.” He parks neatly and turns off the engine. Putting one hand on the door, he looks at me curiously. “You coming or do you need rebooting?”
“Oh, shut up,” I say, smiling at him helplessly. As he goes to climb out, I catch at his shirt. “Thank you,” I say quietly.
His eyebrow rises. “For what?”
“For saying that. You always thought the best of me, regardless of the truth.”
He lifts his big hand, cradling my face in his palm, and I can’t help but nestle into his touch. His eyes flare, but his voice is steady. “That was the truth.”
His gaze lowers to my lips, and I feel a flare of heat. I may not have much school learning, but I know exactly what that look means.
“Zeke?” I can hear the breathlessness in my voice, which is a new thing. I’m not the type to get short of breath over anyone. Anyone except this man, it seems. Zeke has always been my exception.
He studies me and then sighs as a huge tractor trundles by, kicking up dust.
“Not the time,” I say and then very deliberately add, “Yet.”
His eyes slide closed for a second, and I look at his handsome face. This close, I can see the spray of freckles over his nose and a patch on his chin where he missed with the razor. These details seem incredibly important to me—like they’re a secret only I know.
He opens his eyes and smiles. “Come on, Calypso.”
“I’m not sure I’d like to have been her. Didn’t she imprison Odysseus on her island for seven years? I’ve never met a man I’d want to spend even seven minutes with.”
Except you, I think, as he laughs. I could spend seven centuries with you and never get bored.
We climb out, and I look around, trying to see the old familiar landmarks in a suddenly unfamiliar place.
We’re in a car park bordered by fields on three sides.
Then I spot the old oak tree, and my inner compass slides into place.
The tree is huge, and I vividly remember getting stuck in it the summer I was ten.
Simon had dared me to climb it, and going up was fine, but the coming down part was slightly more problematic.
Simon had finally given up on me and gone home for dinner, but then Zeke had appeared.
He’d taken one look at my tear-stained face and climbed the tree.
He sat on the next branch and patiently coaxed me down one foot at a time until we reached the ground.
Instead of mocking me, he’d smiled and just remarked that it was good I’d got down when I did, because we’d make it in time for supper at his house.
When I look up, he’s watching me, and he gives me his crooked smile that makes me want to kiss him.
So, I do.
Instead of second-guessing myself like I’ve done all my life with this man, I lift up and set my lips to his. His lips are full and soft, and I rest for a second, giving him the chance to move away or make it into a casual, friendly gesture.
Instead, his big hand comes up, and he cradles my face.
His fingers are so gentle and almost reverent, and the touch makes my eyes hot.
He pulls back to say, “Georgie,” softly, and then he kisses me, and the world starts to spin like a kaleidoscope.
His tongue sweeps over my lips before sliding in and tangling with mine.
One of us moans. I don’t know who—maybe both.
And then he drags me closer, so close I can feel every inch of him, including the good seven or eight inches of goodness pushing against my belly.
My own cock rises to greet him, and I press closer as we kiss hungrily.
I think even my hair crackles with the energy we’re generating, but then there’s the blast of a horn in the distance, and we fall apart, panting.
I cast a panicked glance around the car park, but the horn came from the main road beyond the fields. There’s no one around. When I look back, he’s watching me. His lips are full, and his eyes are hazy.
“So, you’re definitely gay, then,” I blurt. I immediately gasp in horror. “I’m so sorry. Why are you laughing?”
He gives a raspy wheeze that makes me laugh as well. When we finally settle down, he smiles at me. “I am.”
“Since when?”
He rests against the car, sliding his hands into his pockets. The movement tightens the material of his jeans, and I gulp at the prominent bulge there. “Probably since forever. I denied it for a long time. I thought my dad wouldn’t approve.”
I can’t help moving closer. He’s like my very own personal farmer magnet. “Did he?”
He shrugs. “Not at first. I think the problem was that he found out when I was divorcing Monica. It came as a huge shock to his world, because he’d presumed one thing, and I’d let him.”
“Is he better now?”
“Yeah, of course. I always knew he loved me. My mum was okay instantly, but you know my dad. He takes ages to adapt to changes.”
“True. I remember how upset he was when they changed the format of the Radio Times. He wasn’t cruel, though?” If he was, I’m going over to Spain to give him a piece of my mind.
“Good god, no. Just shocked. It was all rather embarrassing.”