CHAPTER SIXTEEN
In the taxi, I quickly phoned Mum and explained I wouldn’t be home until the following day at some point. Then I called Wyatt.
It rang for a while before he answered with a cheery, ‘Ah, hello!’
‘Hey, how are you? I’m feeling a bit bad that I couldn’t have dinner with you last night. And now I’m down in Jane Austen’s part of the world, in Alton would you believe? And I’m investigating an historical mystery.’
‘Sorry, what did you say? A mystery?’
‘Yes. Look, I’ll tell you about it when I get back, okay? How about we go out for dinner on Saturday night?’
There was a lot of rustling going on at his end – and panting? – and I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. ‘My treat?’ I added, speaking a little louder.
‘What?’ He laughed and said something I didn’t catch.
‘Wyatt, can you hear me? What’s going on?’
‘Oh, we’re rehearsing.’ Clearly focused elsewhere, he raised his voice to a deafening pitch, shouting, ‘And it’s Caitlyn Fox, looking absolutely splendid as she mounts Rob Roy!’
Rob Roy? What on earth was he talking about?
It suddenly clicked. ‘Oh, the horse.’
‘Of course the horse.’ Wyatt gave a bellow of laughter. ‘You didn’t think Caitlyn was having it away with the stable boy, did you? I think she has rather better taste than that.’
‘Caitlyn’s back, then?’
‘What?’
‘Caitlyn? She’s back from Paris?’ I clenched my teeth. He really wasn’t interested in what I was saying. He hadn’t even asked about why I was in Alton and what was the historical mystery? He was far too busy showing off to the lovely Caitlyn!
‘Never mind. I’ll call you when I get back.
Have fun!’ I called, my tone heavy with sarcasm.
Then I ended the call. Sometimes, Wyatt was so infuriating.
He was fun to be with and I was in love with him, of course.
But sometimes I got the distinct feeling that Wyatt loved Wyatt more than anyone else. Even more than me.
I plastered on a smile as I paid the taxi driver and got out.
Bugger Wyatt!
He could take Caitlyn out for dinner on Saturday night for all I cared!
‘Are you going back to the hotel?’ asked the driver. ‘I need a break so I could wait here for you if you like?’
‘Oh. Well, yes. That would be great. I’ll be no longer than half an hour.’
He nodded. ‘Perfect.’ He pulled out a foil-wrapped package from the glove box, which I assumed contained his sandwiches, and settled back into his seat.
I shut the door and looked up and down the high street.
The taxi was parked right outside the small but rather exclusive-looking boutique Elouise had mentioned, and I hesitated outside on the pavement for a moment.
It would probably be eye-wateringly expensive and the outfits in the window looked rather fussy and ‘mother-of-the-bride’.
I’d probably have to take out a small mortgage to even afford a set of underwear!
But in the spirit of spontaneity, I shrugged and pushed the boutique door open.
What choice did I have if I wanted to dress in fresh clothes after my shower, rather than getting back into my work outfit?
Dan would no doubt have one of his many suits in that weekend bag.
He was probably getting the hang of the trouser press right now!
I didn’t want to let him down by turning up for dinner looking like I should be serving the dinner rather than eating it.
But I couldn’t spend too much time browsing. I needed to make sure I had time to nip into the chemist and buy anti-perspirant as well.
I took a deep breath and walked inside.
If it was too expensive, I’d pretend to be interested (walking around and nodding agreeably at a few price tags) and then I’d leave.
Or maybe I’d be ejected from the shop as soon as I went in – just like Vivian in the movie Pretty Woman . . .
*****
By the time I got back to the hotel, clutching my designer label carrier bags – and feeling very much like Vivian – it was almost six o’clock.
I smiled at Elouise on the way through reception, and catching sight of my reflection in the lift mirror, I noticed how flushed I was.
Probably because I’d been out in the cold.
But also because I was feeling a scary sort of thrill at having spent a small fortune on an admittedly gorgeous dress and shoes (and some sleekly expensive underwear).
And then there was the thought of having to go to Dan’s room to collect my key . . .
I was feeling ridiculously nervous as I approached the Riverside Suite. What if he was relaxing? Or having a shower? Or worse, out of the shower and walking around in just a robe?
A little shiver ran along my spine. I didn’t stop to think about why this particular scenario would be worse. Sometimes it was best not to examine your thought processes too closely . . .
He opened the door fully-dressed – still in the clothes he’d travelled down in, minus the coat, shoes, jacket and tie.
‘Get everything you needed?’ he asked, dangling the key to the Forest Suite in front of my eyes. ‘I was about to shower and shave then I remembered you’d need your room key.’
‘Er, yes. I did.’ I held up my bags and took the key from him. ‘And thank you for this.’
‘No problem. See you in the bar for a pre-dinner drink in an hour or so?’
‘Yes. Good.’ I was feeling awkward with him all of a sudden, which was annoying.
I supposed it was because it was all feeling quite intimate, this discussing of showers and shaves and drinks and dinner.
We’d been virtual strangers until today.
And now we were about to have dinner together?
And I’d bought a new dress specially? That was something I’d usually only do for a first date.
It all felt weird.
And I suddenly wondered what Wyatt would think about it all.
Would he be jealous?
But I brushed this thought away. Of course he wouldn’t be jealous!
First, Wyatt was confident and self-assured, and he just wasn’t the jealous type. Second, he trusted me, just like I trusted him.
And thirdly, there was absolutely nothing for him to be jealous about!
‘Right. I’m just going to . . . get in the shower myself.’ I pointed in the direction of my room.
At that, Dan reached over and gently took hold of my hand.
I stared up at him. His hand was warm and my heart was suddenly racing at his touch. A million conflicting feelings were coursing through my body.
He smiled. ‘I think you’ll find it’s that way,’ he murmured, turning my ‘Peter pointer’ finger in the opposite direction.
Still drowning blissfully in my trance, it took me a moment to realise what he was telling me.
Then reality hit, like a bucket of cold water in my face, and I snatched my hand away.
‘Right. Yes, of course.’ I laughed to hide my stupidity. ‘I was never very good with directions.’
He wasn’t holding my hand at all. He was actually informing me that my own suite was situated to the left of his, not to the right.
End of.
Oh, hell, earth swallow me up!