Chapter Seventeen
On Monday morning, Roo hurried in through the rear office door and immediately flopped down in her chair with a dramatic sigh.
‘I bloody hate the school run. Almost late again, Freddie was moaning, and I’d forgotten Sierra’s lunchbox so we had to call at that rip-off deli for healthy stuff. I can’t wait for the holidays.’
Zennor grimaced in sympathy. ‘Sounds like a nightmare. How is Freddie?’
‘He’s OK. He thinks he’s on the mend and can start bowling but his doctor says absolutely not. So I bailed from the painting party and we all went for a run around and a burger.’
‘Poor boy. It must be gutting to sit on the sidelines.’
‘It’s not for much longer – hopefully – and I can’t police what he’s up to when he’s in the playground.
’ Roo shuddered. ‘Don’t even want to think about it.
Now, I’m going to make us a drink in our fantastic new kitchenette and then I want to hear all about the painting party and the bands. How were they?’
Zennor’s spirits rose instantly; she loved spotting and nurturing new talent and was always excited to find it.
‘Actually, good. The first lot are older and their repertoire is mainly swing and the Great American Songbook. We don’t have anything quite like them on the books and they had a great rapport with the audience.
The lead guy has a good line of banter and I think they’d be ideal for the more mature crowd at parties, quirky stuff and vintage festivals. ’
‘OK, let’s sign them up!’ Roo said. ‘What about the function band you saw at White Rocks – Driftwhatsit?’
‘The Driftstones.’ Zennor smiled. ‘I’d expected just another average five-piece covers band but they were a cut above.
A great repertoire, lots of energy – they’d suit a broad age group plus the female vocalist, Marielle, is excellent.
She could go solo if she wanted. It was hard to believe that this was only their first wedding.
They’ll go down a storm at the big hotels – New Year’s Eve type stuff – and corporate events. ’
‘Sounds like you hit the jackpot. It’s so depressing when you see five acts in a row and they’re all meh. Do you want to speak to both bands and make the arrangements to sign them up?’
‘Love to. I’ll make coffee.’
Zennor sent an email to both bands, crossing her fingers that she would be able to snap them up before another agency spotted them.
Later that week, Zennor found herself alone in the office with Matt. She flicked the switch on the desk fan to full and the air stirred to life but it did nothing to cool down the real source of the heat.
Her eyes kept fixating on those tanned calves and it was almost impossible not to sneak a peek over her laptop at his muscular butt in the board shorts or admire the way his muscles shifted and flexed.
Worried he’d turn suddenly and notice her watching him, she hammered away at the keys, typing a string of gobbledegook in her email just to look busy.
Her thoughts turned over his comment about never singing again and how sad that was. At one time, she would have thought it served him right that he’d never sung again. Now? That felt small and petty.
She had been trying – without even realising it herself at the time – to tell him she’d forgiven him.
He strode into the office with a screwdriver in his hand. ‘Is it OK to test the circuit breakers? It means the power will be interrupted momentarily so you might want to save what you’re doing.’
Zennor hastily closed down the email with VSlakdlwlfiwfoewpgofeofe/fo typed in the middle of an offer to the Driftstones.
‘It’s fine but shouldn’t the electrician be doing stuff like that?’
‘Yeah, but I always like to double check just to make sure everything’s OK and the tenant’s happy. Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon.’ He drank deeply from his water bottle.
She wasn’t completely convinced by his reason for being at the office but she let it pass and decided to use the opportunity to get a weight off her mind. ‘OK. Matt. The other day at the club. There’s something I need to say.’
He pulled the bottle away from his lips and took a second before replying. ‘Why do I think I’m not going to like this?’
Her hackles began to rise. ‘Then maybe I won’t bother.’
‘No, no. Look, sorry, go ahead.’ He walked close to the desk, peering over the top of her laptop like some blond god. ‘I’m an arse. Speak up.’
She twisted her lips and sighed. It was high risk to say what she thought but now she had to go for it. ‘It took a while for me to come to terms with you turning up and accusing Trev at the wedding. Obviously, I was angry for a long time.’
‘You don’t say?’
‘Hear me out, please. You said those days are behind you. Well, they are for me too. I want to say that I – I am sorry if you decided to stop singing only because of what happened that day. I wish you would go back to doing what you used to love.’ You were so good at it …
‘Thanks,’ he said a little spikily before softening his tone. ‘I appreciate you’re being kind, but I don’t want to sing any more. It’s part of the past. I have another life now. I’m a—’
Was he going to say different person?
‘Like I said, that part of my life is behind me.’
Zennor felt her olive branch had been politely but firmly pushed away. Perhaps he was still bruised after she’d walked away from him so abruptly at the painting party.
‘Is it OK if I cut the power now?’
‘Give me a minute,’ she said.
Matt went back through to the kitchenette and a short while later, the fan came to a sudden halt. The sun’s rays fell directly on her desk, and without the cooling effect of the fan, the air was instantly oppressive.
A few moments later, the fan started up again but Zennor was already overheated. Sweat trickled down the small of her back. She opened her laptop and was about to move it to Roo’s desk in the shady part of the room when a shadow fell across the keyboard.
It was Matt blocking out the sun.
‘Look, I didn’t mean to be such an arsehole about the singing. This – everything lately – has been a difficult time for both of us.’
Zennor stared at him.
‘It’s baking in here,’ he went on. ‘Why don’t we go out for some air? I could do with a chilled Coke or something.’
‘Well, I ought to carry on working, really …’ she said, still processing his apology. ‘I’m on my own.’
‘Then close the office.’ He spoke firmly, but not arrogantly. ‘You deserve a break and I need one. It can’t be worse than sweltering in here, winding each other up.’
This was his olive branch and Zennor realised it might be the only one he would ever offer. Given that she’d been watching him work in the heat in an atmosphere that was a tinderbox for so many reasons … a cooldown would probably do them both good.
She nodded. ‘OK. Just for half an hour, mind. I’ll lock up.’
The Wharf was crowded and hot, so they picked up cold drinks and walked over to Porthmeor. There the air was fresh and the surf was crashing on to the creamy sands.
It felt natural to gravitate to the tideline where a skein of shells and sea treasures had washed up. The breeze cooled her hot skin and the surf spray spattered her with cold droplets. She drew in lungfuls of the fresh air, body and mind cooling and easing.
She took off her sandals and carried them. ‘This was a good idea,’ she admitted to Matt.
‘Glad I finally did something right,’ he joked.
Zennor said nothing because there were too many responses she could have made. She ventured a little closer to the sea and let the frilly edge of a wavelet reach her toes before it retreated.
He joined her at the edge, having left his work boots on the dry sand. ‘Shame we haven’t brought our swim gear.’
‘It’s a good job we haven’t.’
‘Why’s that?’
Zennor ventured in a little further, enjoying the bite of cold water. ‘Because I really ought to go back to the office …’
The tide was coming in and a wavelet ran over her feet and halfway up her calves. It felt deliciously cool and sensual. The last thing she wanted was to go back to work. They’d unexpectedly made a step forward today.
Matt waded in ahead of her, up to his knees. A wave rolled in and soaked the hem of his shorts.
‘You’re getting wet,’ she said, stating the obvious.
‘When has that ever bothered me? Or either of us?’
‘Never.’ She shaded her eyes because the sun was behind him, obscuring part of his face and creating a halo around his blond hair. A halo he had never deserved, thank goodness. Desire rippled through her body. They could have been two teenagers messing about in the water.
With his back to the sea, Matt grinned at her from a few feet away. ‘Go on, come in. I dare you …’
A wave rolled in, gathering pace. She could let him be drenched or she could warn him. As the wave rolled closer, she braced herself and smiled.
A second later, the wave smacked into him from behind, catching him completely unaware. He staggered forward. ‘Argh!’
Zennor just had time to realise that the wave had joined another and was going to knock her over too. She heard the dull roar of water and then the crest broke over her, pitching her forward.
Water filled her eyes, ears and nose; she staggered to her feet and found Matt next to her, holding out a hand.
‘Urgh. I’m drenched!’
‘Join the club!’ Matt laughed as he helped her to her feet. He was blurry through her stinging eyes but she knew he was grinning.
She let go of him and stumbled out of the waves and on to the firmer sand.
‘Never turn your back on the sea. I should have remembered that,’ he said once they were out of the water.
‘It’s n-not funny,’ Zennor said, shaking droplets off her hands. ‘Thank God I left my phone behind in the office.’
‘Thank God I put mine in my boots,’ Matt said.
He stood with his hands on his hips, his vest stuck to his chest like a shrink-wrapped Neptune who’d emerged from the ocean into the twenty-first century.