Chapter 43
Bea
It had taken all the willpower Bea had to even temporarily forgo the chance to get into the hot tub with Cal, particularly as he’d mentioned he would start off naked.
But she had her principles, and it would take her a little while to get used to the fact that he was treating her to all this.
With the promise that they would go Dutch from now on, some of her worries were assuaged, but she needed time to let things sink in.
Josh had accused her – albeit subtly – so many times of being a freeloader that it was part of her psyche now.
Cal had assured her that he didn’t see her that way and that was important.
It mattered for her self-respect, it mattered for her dignity.
But did it matter for another reason? Was Cal’s opinion of her integrity important because of her desire for something more sustainable?
For goodness’ sake. Bea’s inner critic piped up again.
You have to get it into your head that only thing sustainable about this will be the memories.
And the words you put on the page. The rest will have to be throwaway because you are going back to the States: Cal knows it; you know it.
This house was never built on anything but sand.
Speaking of sand, this beach was not the softest underfoot… Oh yeah, she was on a beach.
Cal must have noticed Bea emerging from her daydream.
‘So not only have you not picked a single pebble, but you haven’t said one word to me either.
’ He was standing on the shoreline, eyes to match the backdrop of green mountains, the gentle sun sending shimmers to his dark blond hair, and in his hand was the basket he’d got from reception: a basket which now contained several pebbles.
‘Where did…? Did you pick those?’ Bea gaped at the basket.
‘Aye. Lucky one of us is here to do what we said we would cause your mum is going to be disappointed otherwise.’ He winked at her.
‘Sorry,’ Bea’s heart bounced like a skimming stone at his gesture. ‘I was miles away. Thanks for getting those. They’re so pretty.’ God, he was lovely. Few men could carry a Red Riding Hood basket full of pebbles and still be completely sexy.
‘No bother,’ Cal swung the basket gently. ‘Want to talk about it?’
‘The pebbles?’
‘Beatrice! Come on now. You know I don’t mean the pebbles.’
Bea whipped her eyes up from the basket to meet Cal’s. His calling her by her full name sent unprecedented frisson right through her. Wow! Well, two could play at that game.
‘You got me there, Call-um.’ She savoured the word. It was rich around her tongue and she wanted to enjoy every syllable. And what fun in paralleling his gesture.
Cal raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you getting cheeky, Mrs Butler?’ He grinned as he referenced the receptionist’s error from earlier.
Well, that was it. No one man was allowed to look as gorgeous as Cal Butler did, standing by a loch with a basket full of pebbles that he’d collected for her, then address her as if she were his wife.
No such man was allowed to do that to Bea Gracie without being kissed hot on the mouth right this instant.
She stepped towards him knowing that entering into this role-play was dangerous, but being powerless to resist.
‘Is that going to be a problem, Mr Butler?’
Cal dropped the basket, came to meet her, and took her face in his hands.
‘Not for me,’ he said. ‘No.’