Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Bryce
Finally, it’s time, and I head back to see her on the front step, locking the door. She looks stunning, as usual, in a short black dress with billowy sleeves, a deep V of tanned skin at the front, her legs bare. I want to kiss her, immediately.
But at the same time, I feel awkward. I’m not used to this type of intimacy. But when Claire sees me, her ocean eyes lighting up, I relax. She practically runs into my arms, lifting her face for a kiss. Yeah, I could get used to this.
“Hey,” I say, once I lift my head.
“Hey.” She smiles, but there’s something in that blue gaze of hers, and as she presses against me, I can feel she’s tense.
“Everything all right?”
“It’s fine,” she says. “Shall we go?”
But as we head down the street together, hand in hand, she looks over her shoulder as though expecting to be followed. What the fuck is going on?
She’s back to her smiling gorgeous self by the time we sit down in the restaurant.
It’s on the main street, with views across the trees towards the water.
Cockatoos swoop like seagulls outside, stealing food from tables, shrieking and playing.
We order drinks and food, then the waiter leaves us alone.
The place is busy, but not super full, and there’s enough space around us that it feels almost private.
“How was your day?” Fuck. This feels weird.
I don’t do the dating thing very often, tending to just meet girls at parties or bars.
And Claire, her tits straining against the low-cut V of her top, is utterly distracting.
I feel as though I’m thinking with my dick, and I try to pull it together.
But there’s a fine gold chain hanging between her breasts and I just want to take it in my teeth, want to lick her, taste the soft skin there, see if it smells as good as the rest of her.
Maybe we need to fuck just so I can have an actual conversation with her. But that seems like a bullshit move, and not anything I plan on laying on her unless she’s into it too.
“Yeah, it was all right. Busy enough. You?”
“Okay. Had a couple of surfs.” I shrug. “Felt like a long day, to be honest.”
“Oh my god, me too.” The words burst from her, and she giggles. And then it all feels normal between us again. “Such a long day.” She rolls her eyes. “I was really looking forward to seeing you.” There’s a faint blush of pink on her cheekbones.
“Yeah.” I grin. “Me too.”
The waiter returns with our drinks. Soda water for me, and some sort of deep pink cocktail for Claire. I’m driving, and I don’t imagine she has a high opinion of drunk drivers. I also want to keep my wits about me.
Claire picks up her cocktail and takes a long sip through the straw, closing her eyes. She puts it down with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “I needed that,” she says. She glances outside, her fine dark eyebrows drawing together slightly.
“Hard work selling all those dresses to assholes like me?”
“Oh, there’s no one like you,” she says. “I don’t usually go on dates with assholes I meet at work anyway.” She softens the words with a grin.
“This is a date then, is it?”
“Isn’t it?” She looks troubled for a moment.
I reach across the table, taking her hand, my fingers playing on her smooth skin. “It is. I’m just messing with you.”
She narrows her eyes. “Maybe my initial assumption about you was right.”
I laugh, clinking my drink with hers. “I aim to please.”
The waiter returns with our food, putting it down in front of us. Claire and I just watch each other. I can’t take my eyes off her, the smile playing around her lips, the way her hair falls in smooth waves either side of her delicate face.
“So tell me,” she says, putting her napkin on her lap and picking up her knife and fork. “Where’s the best place you’ve ever surfed?”
“I thought you didn’t like surfing.” Delight curls through me.
“I’m coming around to it. Thought it might be worth finding out a bit more about it, now I’m officially dating a surfer and all. Just in case anyone asks.” She purses her lips, raising an eyebrow. “So, hit me with it. Best wave, or whatever you call it.”
I laugh again, and start telling her about the places I’ve been to, where I’ve surfed.
And as I watch her expressive face, her mouth as she talks, I want to take her to each and every one of them.
She interrupts me every so often, challenging me, asking questions about what makes one place better than the other.
But at the same time, there’s a wariness about her.
Not directed at me; rather, she keeps glancing outside, and every time the door swings open to admit more people, she jumps in her seat.
Just a slight movement, but I’m attuned to her enough that I notice it.
She doesn’t order any more cocktails, either, switching to soda water like me.
Like she needs to stay alert for something.
Finally, after the twentieth worried glance outside, I put down my knife and fork.
“What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” She dabs her mouth with her napkin, frowning over it at me.
“Something’s bothering you. I can tell.”
She stares at me for a moment, then looks away. “It’s nothing.”
“You keep looking outside as though you’re worried about snipers, and you flinch every time the door opens. And despite your many excellent questions about surf locations, you totally missed it when I said I wanted to kiss your naked body under a palm tree on Tahiti.”
She blushes, her mouth coming open in an “o” shape. “I did not! I just chose to ignore it.”
I threw that last part in to test her, simply because she seemed so distracted. Also because it seemed like a really good idea. And then I realise what the problem is. Or what it’s most likely to be. “It’s that asshole again, isn’t it? Simon?”
Her eyes glisten with a sheen of tears. Her throat moves, but she doesn’t say anything.
Anger rises in me, not at her, but at Simon. Last time he texted Claire, I told him in no uncertain terms to fuck off, but he doesn’t seem to have got the message. “What happened? Give me your phone, please. I’ll sort him out.”
“It’s not on my phone.” Her voice is a whisper. “I’m so sorry. I’m spoiling everything and—”
“Claire.” I take her hand in both of mine. “You aren’t spoiling a thing. None of this is your fault. Come on, tell me about it.”
She blinks, moisture gathering on her long dark lashes. I want to scoop her up and take her out of there, take her to where she feels safe. She reaches with her free hand into her bag, emerging with a rather crumpled looking card.
“He left me this. At the shop today.” She puts the card on the table. There’s a white skull stamped on the front of it, against a black background. Charming. I let go of her hand and open the card.
Rage. Pure and clean, like fire. I want to fuck this guy up so badly he crawls into his hole and doesn’t emerge again. I pull it back, though, not wanting to upset Claire.
“Was there anything else with it?” My jaw is tight.
“Dead rose petals. And a dead spider.” She shudders, then her face twists, like she’s holding back tears.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Really?” She lifts her shining gaze to me. “Sorry,” she says again. “I don’t mean to sound so keen to go home. But I’ve just felt like … like he’s watching me. All day. And I don’t want him to start hassling you as well.”
“He can try,” I growl, once again pulling my anger back with an effort. “And you don’t need to apologise for anything. You want to go home, I’ll take you home.”
I pay the bill and usher Claire outside, my arm around her.
She clings to me, only letting go to slide into the passenger seat of my car.
My heart is heavy as we start the drive back to her place.
I’d planned on taking her down to the beach to watch the sunset, then maybe continuing the evening at the pub.
But she’s obviously shaken up. We’ll have other opportunities to spend time together. For now I need to get her home.
Claire
I feel like such an idiot. I’ve ruined this evening, all because of Simon and his stupid note.
I hate him, I realise. I have done so for a while.
It’s such a strong emotion, and I’ve tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but seriously, if I could somehow wipe him off the face of the earth at this moment I would.
Yet I’ve still enjoyed being with Bryce.
Enjoyed hearing his stories of travelling around the world, his adventures across the globe.
Enjoyed watching him too, watching his lush mouth as he talked, the animation in his face, the beauty of his broad shoulders and high cheekbones.
I’ve travelled a little bit, mostly with my parents when I was younger, but I’ve not been anywhere since they died.
Hearing him talk lit that fire in me again, the desire to explore distant horizons, to write about far-flung places, to experience how other people live.
For a while, when I was young, I wanted to be a flight attendant, just to get all the free travel.
Now I have all the money I need to go wherever I want.
I heard what Bryce said, of course I did, about kissing me all over on Tahiti. I ignored it because I wasn’t sure if he was messing with me again, and I was also still distracted by Simon and the feeling of being watched. It made my skin crawl.
Now my skin is tingling in an entirely different way.
I watch Bryce’s hands on the steering wheel as we wind along the road back to my place, the muscles moving in his strong tanned forearms. He’s wearing cargo trousers and a black T-shirt, fitted across his shoulders and chest, looser over his abs.
I want to touch them, want to touch all of him.
He might be taking me home, but it doesn’t mean the night is over yet. I just need to get my head straight. I want to kiss Bryce, and more, but I want it to be for the right reasons, not some twisted way of getting Simon out of my head. I want Bryce for himself, not for any other reason.
He was obviously angry when I showed him the card, his strong jaw clenching, green eyes glittering.
But his expression, when it came to me, was soft.
As it is now, when he glances over as though wanting to make sure I’m okay.
He says nothing, though, and it’s fine. Just like the silence and space I gave him when we drove back from Torquay, it feels comfortable.
The sun is setting, the clouds over the ocean streaked with lilac and orange, the colours reflected in the water.
It’s gorgeous. I watch it stream past me, letting the undulations of the road and Bryce’s presence and the beauty of the sky wash over me, lulling me into a dreamy state, all thoughts of Simon slipping away.
I almost don’t realise we’re at my gates until Bryce pulls in. I click the automatic button on the control on my keyring … then remember I’ve left my car in Lorne. Shit. I was in such a hurry to get out of there I didn’t even think about it.
But as we head down the long driveway, I gaze at the sky once more, brilliant above the dark tattered shapes of the gum trees, and let the worry go. I can get a taxi to Lorne tomorrow. Or Bryce can drive me back there later.
He pulls up outside my house, turning off the ignition. He turns to me. “I’ve enjoyed this evening with you, Claire,” he says in his deep voice.
“It’s not over yet.” The words tumble from me. I can’t lie, though. I don’t want it to end yet. I don’t know what that means, or where it will lead. I just know it doesn’t end here.
He says nothing, and I know he’s waiting. You set the pace. I’ll just follow where you lead. I remember him saying that to me, in the surf. And true to his word, he’s letting me lead.
“Come inside,” I say. “Just for coffee. We can watch the sunset.”
And then see what happens.