Chapter 18
18
Boathouse Cottage, St Aidan
Crash mats and slim pickings
Monday
M y walk back to the cottage is more of a half-run. I should be jubilant for dodging the Net Loft bullet, but there’s a tiny voice in my head that’s telling me I might be disappointed I walked away.
I give Pumpkin a wave as I slip in through the gate and head for the French window which I usually leave off the latch, but when I get there, it’s locked. I jump the style and head to the door that leads through to the kitchen and is always open when there’s someone in, but that’s locked too. It’s only as I dig in the pocket of my shorts for my door key that it hits me: I did a last-minute change before I rushed out to Zofia’s this morning, and I’ve come out without it.
I’ve gone two entire weeks without getting locked out or losing my key. I’d meant to hide an emergency key in Pumpkin’s outhouse, and I’m kicking myself for not. I put down my carriers, pull out my phone, and cringe at the thought of asking Zofia to bring the spare. Then I remember she’s gone to Plymouth.
I head through the gate and out on to the lane. Miles’s car in the parking area means he’s off on foot, but if he knew I’d come out without a key he’d have a field day. I’d rather sit on the grass for a few hours with Pumpkin than have Miles rip into me for my immature behaviour.
I scan the windows along the lane and when I have no luck there, I go back through to the garden and check each opening meticulously. I’m about to give up and sit on the sun lounger, but as I climb the steps to the terrace, the height lets me see a crack at the bottom of a higher window towards the end of the house, which must open into the bedroom.
If I shove the outdoor table along, and put one of the benches on the tabletop, I might just be able to slide in through the window. I take two seconds to consider if it’s too great an invasion of Miles’s privacy to land in his bedroom, then I go for it anyway.
Scarlett having hewn oak outdoor furniture rather than Argos plastic means the job takes fifteen minutes rather than two. I wrench my stomach lifting the bench up into place but at least when I spring up onto the table my furniture stack is solid. I get onto the bench, reach across to the window ledge, and give a silent hurrah when the frame slips upwards far enough for me to climb through.
I throw my bag in ahead of me. Take a second to think head first or feet first, see a mental picture of myself in a neck brace, and opt for feet.
My thighs are in all the way to my bottom before I realise it’s going to be a squeeze. By the time my bum’s slipped over the inner sill, I’m committed. Then, thanks mostly to my shiny satin shorts, gravity takes over and I drop downwards. There’s a terrible moment when my boobs are so compressed by the frame I hear the fabric of my bra rip. Then something gives, and I’m arching down through the air, and landing in a heap of splayed knees on Scarlett’s hand-knotted bedside rug.
I’m checking all my limbs have come in with me, reminding myself this is a legitimate chance to take in the details of Miles’s bedroom when I hear a cough. My blood runs cold and when I slowly raise my head the face I’m looking up into is Miles’s.
‘What the hell happened here, Betty Eliza? I’d have come to the door if you’d knocked.’
It’s so like Miles to turn this on to me.
‘Since when do we lock the door when we’re home?’ One of the reasons Scarlett loves it here is because people can go out and leave their doors and windows wide open, and come back to find things exactly as they left them. It’s so refreshing to be able to trust people, and have neighbours who look out for you. Not that there’s much here to take, due to the empty look. Then my heart misses a beat. Of course Miles would lock the door if he was with someone and didn’t want me walking in on them.
I start to back track. ‘It’s completely understandable to lock the door if you were… entertaining people.’ The immediate stab in my chest is engulfed by a wave of relief for whatever scene I just avoided parachuting into here.
I pull my eyes into focus and see he’s naked except for a pair of jeans, which have the fly unbuttoned far enough to see there’s nothing underneath.
My throat is dry as I take in the view all the way down to his bare toes and back up again. Then my voice rises to a shriek.
‘What if I’d dropped through the window into the middle of a bonk fest? I’d have literally expired with embarrassment.’
There’s a twist to Miles’s lips. ‘It’s fine, you were nowhere near, she left ten minutes ago.’
‘What the hell?’
He’s biting his lip, holding back his grin. ‘I’m joking. I went for a shower, and decided if someone came and stole your clothes collection while I had my head under the rainforest spray you’d never forgive me.’
‘So there was no visitor?’
His eyes are dancing with amusement. ‘Nope. And no sex fest, either.’
I’m still on the rug where I landed, staring straight ahead at the shadow that’s pushing against the denim to one side of his fly buttons. Truly, this is not the time to remember how much I like sex or how much I’ve missed it since I gave up dating. I mean, I’ve often had that thought whispering at the back of my mind when I’ve seen him stretched out on the sun lounger, but this is the first time my brain has yelled and ordered me to do something about it. Considering who I’m staring at here, I’m out of order on every level.
When I finally force my gaze upwards to meet his, I find his eyes are locked on my chest. I brush an invisible speck off my dress, and stare down to find an extra-large expanse of cleavage where a button has ripped off my top.
As I clear my throat, Miles leaps forward and holds out his hand. ‘Let me help you up.’
I’m about to rearrange my legs so I can get to get to my feet when I hear my ringtone. As ‘I’m a believer’ echoes around the bedroom, Miles picks up my bag and hands it to me.
‘A call for you, Betty.’
I pull out my phone and lean my shoulder on the side of the huge double bed. ‘It’s Scarlett. I’ll take it down here.’
I watch Miles whisk around, and when he turns back around to face me again his jeans are done up and he’s pulling on a T-shirt. Then he heads off towards the bathroom and I accept the call.
‘Scarlett?’
‘Just checking in to see how you and your unexpected housemate are getting along?’
I aim for something that hides that we aren’t getting along. ‘Pumpkin is yet to be convinced, but I’m helping Miles with his latest project– giving him a youth insight.’
‘Really?’ Scarlett sounds surprised. ‘I hope he’s paying you well. He can certainly afford to.’
I swallow back my drool, remembering the toffee pastry melting on my tongue. ‘We have a mutually beneficial arrangement.’ I’m certainly not complaining, but I throw another thought in to move this on. ‘Miles is pretty upbeat considering his heart has been shattered.’
Scarlett sounds puzzled. ‘Tate never mentioned that.’
I give a shrug. ‘It must have been when you were super busy.’ Scarlett’s the one who usually worries about me, but for once I have to ask. ‘You and Tate are talking again now?’
Scarlett sighs. ‘Not exactly. So much has changed with the move, it’s hard to pinpoint what’s wrong.’
‘Too many hot dogs?’ I am not the right person to give relationship counselling, especially when it’s transatlantic.
She sounds hesitant. ‘It could be stress? He has a lot of responsibility with the expansion.’
There’s no point her asking me, but if we’re talking about people behaving oddly, this is very unlike Scarlett too. I’ve never known her stop to question before.
She carries on. ‘So long as you’re okay. That’s what I rang for. Give my love to Pumpkin.’
And then she’s gone, and as I scramble to my feet, Miles wanders back in.
He grins from behind the towel he’s rubbing his hair with. ‘It’s great you mentioned our collaboration. What did Scarlett think?’
I laugh. ‘She hoped my salary was adequate considering how loaded you are.’ I give a cough. ‘Feel free to listen in.’
‘You were talking so loudly I couldn’t help it, even from the bathroom!’ Miles frowns. ‘And why did you say I’m broken-hearted when I’m not.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever. It’s typically male to be in emotional denial.’
He frowns. ‘As there’s no way out of that, how are Scarlett and Tate?’
My loyalty is to Scarlett, but I don’t close him down entirely. ‘I don’t want to talk behind their backs… but I sense they’ve been better.’
Miles is close enough to reach out and squeeze my wrist. ‘We both want the best for them– and I’d say that’s a good summing up.’
Now I’ve got this far, I may as well go one further. ‘Scarlett knows there’s a problem, but she hasn’t put her finger on it yet.’
With my thoughts out there, I’m aching to see if Miles comes back with an explanation.
Miles raises his eyebrows. ‘Nailing things down is one of Scarlett’s super-powers. I’m sure she’ll sort it.’
‘Let’s hope you’re right, Miles.’ That isn’t what I was looking for, but I’m thinking back to his promise to bake today. ‘Have you been busy in the kitchen?’
He pulls a face, then looks at his watch. ‘I’m afraid I got called away. If you’re hoping to tap the tourist tasters, we’re probably too late for today.’
Damn.
He must have read my mind. ‘If you’re that disappointed, let me bake you a quiche for tonight? Or a homemade pizza? I can do both of those.’
I’m remembering the bag I left outside. ‘I’ve already shopped for dinner.’ Green beans and carrots with tops on, and a cheese omelette with freshly laid eggs will be less stressful than anything eaten with Miles.
‘Great!’ Miles sounds a lot less bouncy than he should, then he brightens. ‘I’ll bake tomorrow. That’s a definite commitment!’
I’m putting my own needs to one side here. ‘Or you could do it closer to the weekend when the beach will be busier?’
‘Good thinking, Eliza Bets. I’ll confirm later.’ He tilts his head to one side and stares up above my head. ‘How about the window? Can I close that now? But if ever you're planning a midnight entrance, let me know, and I’ll open it again.’
As I march off to drag Scarlett’s outdoor furniture back into place, I wave a finger at Miles to tell him where to stick his last comment. It’s only as I get back to the kitchen I suddenly realise: I was so caught up staring at the guy himself, I didn’t scrutinise his room at all.