Chapter 21 Cherry
Cherry
Ten days later, the squawking of Kinshore seagulls drew Cherry into Monday wakefulness.
Last night, the bedroom was too warm, so she’d left the window open, and now a refreshing breeze feathered her skin, her legs tangled in the bedsheets as if her dormant self hadn’t known if she was too hot or too cold and opted for half and half.
The hot half being the part that dreamed of her husband.
Every night, there he was, moving around her subconscious in some form or another, and it took mere moments before he appeared in her waking thoughts, too, making barely noticeable the transition between sleep and consciousness.
Cherry slipped out of bed, tugging down the long white t-shirt that hung barely below her backside.
Not that it mattered since Sean was on his way to London.
She missed him already. It had been over a week since their ‘almost’ moment after dinner at his mum’s, and she’d done nothing but think of him.
She padded down the hall to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water and worked her toothbrush around, before making the detour that was becoming something of a very bad habit.
Although Sean’s bedroom remained a constant – the solid oak floorboards, the trusty surfboards leaning on the wall, the sweet, woody scent of his pillow – one thing kept changing.
Cherry’s feelings.
With every day that passed, she hugged his pillow tighter, inhaled deeper, ached harder.
She was pining so hard for the man she lived with. The man she was married to.
As she did every day he wasn’t here, Cherry sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hands down the duvet, grasping it in her fist, imagining doing this with Sean buried between her legs. Remembering the time he was.
So good. It was so good. He was as dextrous with his tongue as he was with those cask-crafting hands.
Closing her eyes, Cherry tipped her chin to the ceiling, inhaling hard, her mouth tightening briefly before she let out the breath.
Firmer, she pulled the pillow against her breasts, imagining him yanking her t-shirt off, pushing her back onto the bed, his impressive cock springing free from his underwear.
It was an arresting sight, the image of it soldered into her mind from the cooperage.
‘Fuck, Sean,’ she intoned.
‘Aye. What can I help you with, Paradise?’
Cherry’s eyes flew open and shot to the location of the voice, where – what did you know? – there was her husband, leaning on the doorframe all scrubbed up in jeans and charcoal t-shirt. Oh, holy shit! He was meant to be on his way to London.
Sean ran his hand through his clean, shower-damp hair. Amusement teased her while he waited for an answer. But what could she say? Cherry had styled out a lot of embarrassing situations, and this was going to be difficult to troubleshoot.
Nothing would wash.
Nothing.
So, honestly, why bother?
‘Morning, Butler.’ She threw him a smile, still holding onto the pillow as if all she’d been doing was changing the pillowcase. ‘How goes it?’
‘Aye.’ Sean nodded, swimming into her flow and moving into the room.
‘It goes pretty great, thanks. Forgot my phone, but don’t let me disturb whatever it is you’re doing.
’ Retrieving the handset from the top of the chest of drawers, where she should have seen it, Sean slid it into his pocket and stood facing her. ‘You missing your teddy bear?’
Cherry stifled amusement. ‘By teddy bear, do you mean an actual teddy bear or is the teddy bear in this instance you?’
He laughed that joyous laugh that she loved. ‘I’m not sure. I’d say it’s you who needs to clarify that to me, seeing as you’re the one in my bedroom cuddling my pillow.’
‘I’m not “cuddling” your pillow.’
‘No? My bad. What are you doing? Taking its pulse? Checking the thread count?’
‘Don’t be daft. I mean, “cuddling” is a bit much. I’d say I’m hugging it.’ Cherry held steadfast to the pillow as if shame was never an option.
‘Aah, okay, hugging. Fine. Listen, Jamie’s giving me a lift so I’ve got to go, but I have to ask before I head off… Are you okay?’ Sean tapped at his temple, sparkle in his eyes. He was humouring her.
‘Yes, of course. I’m absolutely fine.’ Cherry blew her fringe up and hopefully her cares away with it.
‘I’m going to get going in a minute.’ Extracting the pillow, she placed it back where it came from, raising her arms above her head before remembering her lack of underwear and stretching the t-shirt down her thighs.
‘So stiff today.’ She deflected a bit more with some twists.
Sean watched with the same subtle amusement as before, biting his bottom lip. Damn, he was a sight and a half for morning eyes.
‘Anyway, I’d best get on and get a shower,’ she announced as if he were the one delaying her.
He reached down. ‘Need a hand up, seeing as you’re a bit stiff?’
‘Thank you.’ She slipped her palms into his – large and calloused with strong, thick fingers that had explored the most intimate parts of her body – gaze darting to the corded muscle of forearms flexing under his tattoos as he hauled her towards him.
She could smell him from here – so clean and fresh.
So fuckable.
As she rose, something flickered in Sean’s eyes before he raised that summer-rock-pool-gaze to meet hers.
It dawned on Cherry immediately. No bra + white t-shirt + morning breeze + sexy-as-fuck-husband = tight little nipples poking through the fabric for sexy-as-fuck-husband to see.
She’d been so worried about her pussy being on show she’d forgotten about the other stuff.
‘Oops.’ She didn’t move a muscle, in an ever-ludicrous attempt to style this as nothing out of the ordinary.
Sean smiled. ‘I’ve had worse oopses.’
‘Glad to get things off to a perky start for you.’
She could have sworn that, as he was about to leave the room, Sean stopped for a moment, deliberating over coming right back to her and slamming that gorgeous mouth into hers.
And if she was honest with herself, she was half hoping that he would.
But all he said was: ‘Aye, anyway, I’d better get going. Have a good few days without me. And behave yourself.’
Cherry sipped her coffee and regarded the jungle that was Sean’s garden. The grass was so long it was doubling back under its own weight; wild foxgloves danced unchallenged with stinging nettles and gangs of rebellious weeds. It was wild and rich and teeming with life.
And a complete state.
But it was a project that Cherry relished. Visions of how she could change it were already bubbling in her brain. About what could go where. And if she worked really hard, she could have it done by the time he got back from London.
His face would be priceless.
Showering away the morning’s embarrassment and dressing in khaki shorts and a black vest with her usual high tops, Cherry drove five miles to the garden shop on the outskirts of Campbeltown.
She bounced through the door, optimistically clutching a list of plants she hoped she could find at least half of.
Inside the shop, her mind was blown.
Lush greenery spilled from every shelf, bracket and inch of space.
The fragrant aroma of lilies, verbena and orchids filled the air.
Cherry closed her eyes, cast back to her small childhood garden with her dad, playing her favourite game of identifying the flowers from their smell, picking out the subtlest tones from so many overlapping and intermingling layers.
‘Morning!’
She opened her eyes.
‘Oh, hi.’ It was no wonder she hadn’t noticed the assistant sooner.
In her floral blouse and green overalls, blonde hair spilling out from the confines of a brightly coloured scarf, earrings resembling hanging baskets, she was like a plant in motion.
Peering at her badge, Cherry could see that her name was – fittingly – Summer.
For a hot, fleeting moment, Cherry wanted Summer’s life. The seemingly easy existence of pruning and misting plants in a garden shop on a peninsula on the west coast of Scotland. Of not having to worry about winning or losing at work, about tells, bad hands, poor decisions.
Of course, appearances meant nothing; she was well aware of that.
‘Is there anything you’d like help with today?’ Summer asked.
‘Yes, I’m overhauling my husband’s garden, and I need all the things on this list.’ Cherry held out the piece of paper to Summer, who scanned it quickly.
‘We can do most of these. Come with me.’ She began pushing a trolley through the centre with fluid efficiency, placing things in or asking Cherry if this thing or that thing worked for her.
In went potting compost, garden tools, geraniums, impatiens, lavender, pansies, sweet pea, honeysuckle, jasmine.
Plants and flowers that were bright or smelled intoxicating and divine.
Cherry threw in additional items as she saw fit – a bird bath, feeders and seed, and wind chimes.
As they moved around the shop, Summer chatted away. ‘Do you live in Campbeltown?’ she asked with a vibrant inquisitiveness, which Cherry liked. She craved an easy-going female friend to talk to.
‘I’ve just moved to Kinshore, actually. Married a local.’
Summer swung round, her eyes even brighter than before. ‘No way! You’re not Sean’s wife, are you?’
‘Yes.’ Cherry raised her palms. ‘Caught red-handed.’
Summer laughed. ‘Sorry, sorry, that came out a bit stalkerish. I didn’t mean to alarm you.
I’m friends with the Butlers, and since Nate told me about the wedding, I’ve been dying to meet this amazing woman Sean married.
I’m Summer.’ She tapped at her badge. ‘As you can see. Right, I think we have everything now.’ She swung the trolley back towards the checkout.
‘How do you know the Butlers?’ Cherry asked as they settled into a rhythm at the till – Summer scanning and Cherry packing things into boxes.