Chapter 11
Murray clearly knew what he was doing, even if he had just broken out a scarily accurate Jim Carey impression. Milly had to hand it to him, he had pretty good balance considering he was only wearing a towel!
Milly watched him as he edged along the wide, wooden planks. The mud beneath him kept making uncouth, farty sounds and she was finding it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face.
As he drew nearer, Milly spotted one minor issue with his cunning plan – by the time Murray reached the end of the makeshift bridge, Milly would be eye to… well… not quite eye with him. To put it plainly, she was about to find herself face-to-face with the towel-covered portion of Murray Eddington.
The heat of early-onset-embarrassment stained Milly’s cheeks, and the temptation to scrunch her eyes closed and pretend this wasn’t happening was almost unbearable. She could hardly change her mind and send him back for some clothes at this point, could she?! Anyway, ignoring the embarrassment-factor, it wouldn’t be the end of the world if the towel just happened to slip…
‘Milly – are you okay?’ Murray sounded worried… almost as if he’d been reading her thoughts. She really hoped that wasn’t another one of his hidden talents - along with celebrity impressions - otherwise she was in serious trouble.
‘What?’ she spluttered. ‘Why?’ Her discomfort somehow made her sink an extra couple of inches into the mud.
‘You’ve gone all red!’ he said, looking concerned. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine, fine… I’m fine,’ she blustered. ‘Just… well… sinking… and keen to get out of here…’
… preferably before she died of embarrassment!
Milly had been taking quite a bit of comfort in the knowledge that things between them couldn’t get any weirder - not after their bizarre first kiss in the carpark, followed by the weekend’s Great Wedding Disaster. But this? This trumped everything!
‘Here,’ he said, holding out a hand for her bag. Milly passed it over and he placed it on the far side of the planks. Then, shuffling his feet and bracing himself, he held out his hands out towards her.
Milly shot one last glance at his low-slung towel before fixing her eyes on his face.
‘Take my hands!’ he said
Milly did as she was told, doing her best to ignore the fact that every little hair on her body stood on end at the contact.
‘Ready?’ he said.
‘Not really,’ she muttered.
Murray tugged on her hands, but Milly didn’t budge. The angle was all wrong - and it just felt like she was going to yank him down on top of her if she wasn’t careful. She wobbled precariously and quickly let go of him, thrusting her hands into the mud to stop herself from toppling backwards.
‘Urgh!’ she muttered, flicking ooze from her fingers as she straightened back up.
‘Maybe grab the planks instead?’ said Murray, running his fingers distractedly through his damp hair before wincing.
‘You okay?’ she said.
Murray grunted and gave her the tiniest nod. He was clearly in pain. The poor guy would probably be a lot more okay if she hadn’t turned up out of the blue and forced him to stand around outside wearing nothing more than a towel while she played stuck-in-the-mud.
She needed to get out of there so that he could rest!
Milly quickly reached out and rested her palms on the rough wooden planks. If she could just shift her weight enough, she might be able to wiggle one foot free.
It probably wasn’t the best look as she belly-flopped forward onto the planks… but it seemed to be working. Slowly but surely – accompanied by a horrifyingly loud farting noise - the mud relinquished its grip on one leg and then the other.
‘Yes!’ she crowed in triumph.
‘Grab on!’ said Murray.
Milly did as she was told. Taking hold of Murray’s ankles, she wriggled and shuffled her way further onto the planks.
This definitely wasn’t the way she’d dreamed of feeling him up for the first time!
Now all she had to do was get to her feet without toppling straight back in again. Easier said than done.
Milly was about to bite the bullet and use Murray’s hairy legs as a human climbing frame when his hand appeared in front of her. She hesitated. By this point, she was covered in mud, and her hands were slick with the stuff. She’d already covered his ankles in gloop…
‘Take my hand!’ said Murray.
Milly sighed. Well… it couldn’t get much worse, could it? What was a bit more mud?!
‘Got ya!’ Murray cheered as he hauled her to her feet with surprising strength for someone who’d been in hospital all weekend.
‘Thanks!’ she gasped, finding herself eye-to-eye with him. ‘Erm… I’m sorry about all the mud!’
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, wiping his hand on the towel and giving her a knee-meltingly slow smile. ‘I’ll just have to get back in the shower again. I’m not complaining.’
A strangely strangled squeak came from somewhere, and it took Milly a couple of seconds to realise it had come from her own mouth.
‘Come on,’ said Murray, looking concerned again. ‘I think you’d better come inside and get cleaned up.’
Milly nodded. Right now, she was just grateful that he wasn’t demanding answers as to why she’d been loitering - knee-deep in mud outside his home.
Murray turned and grabbed her bag in his free hand. Then, without letting go of her hand, he led the way slowly along the planks. Milly wasn’t about to complain. The man of her dreams was right in front of her – practically naked - and looking decidedly edible. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was covered from head to toe in splatters of stinky mud, she might have thought she’d died and gone to heaven.
Milly took a deep breath, doing her best to quell the tingles that were busy running down her arm and spreading throughout her body. It didn’t help. She caught a waft of something deliciously citrussy… orange shower gel maybe?
Now she was shivering… but it had nothing to do with being cold and everything to do with the bare, muscled back in front of her, and the warm point of connection between her fingers and Murray’s.
As soon as they reached the deck, Murray dropped her hand and turned to face her. Milly met his eyes, suddenly feeling shy.
He looked… angry? In pain? Just plain confused?
She wasn’t sure which, but there was definitely something intense about his gaze and she had to look away after a couple of seconds.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, Milly glanced around, searching for something to say. She’d never visited the old trawler before. It was rusty and weatherworn, and she couldn’t quite believe anyone would choose to live all the way out here on such a wreck.
‘I think you’d better come in,’ said Murray, beating her to it. ‘You’re shivering!’
‘But I’m covered in mud!’ said Milly, turning back to him, still feeling slightly dazed. As keen as she was to take a peek inside, the last thing she wanted to do was leave sludgy footprints in her wake.
‘Hold that thought,’ he said, disappearing inside the trawler.
Milly shivered again and wrapped her arms around herself.
‘Here!’ said Murray, reappearing in a matter of seconds and tossing something at her.
Catching the damp towel on instinct, Milly widened her eyes as she realised it was the same one he’d been wearing. She glanced at him under her lashes. Sure enough, he’d pulled on a pair of shorts but was still deliciously shirtless.
Milly swallowed and eyeballed the towel in her hands. It was still slightly warm.
‘It’s already muddy,’ said Murray with a shrug. ‘Use it to mop your feet off a bit… then you can climb into my shower!’
‘Oh… I… okay…’ said Milly. The shivery feeling was now making her knees knock.
Sit down before you fall down, Mills!
Sinking onto the deck, Milly started to wipe as much sludge from between her toes as she could.
‘Okay,’ she said as soon as she was happy she wasn’t about to make a mess of his home on top of everything else. ‘I think I’m good.’
Murray held out a hand, and after the briefest pause, Milly took it and let him haul her back to her feet.
‘Come on in!’ he said, shooting a smile over his shoulder as he led her inside.
‘Wow!’
Milly came to a standstill just two steps inside the door.
‘You okay?’ said Murray, turning to face her.
‘Good, I’m good!’ squeaked Milly, staring around. She felt like he’d just led her through a wormhole. How could this be the rusty, tatty old trawler that had been stranded in the middle of Crumbleton marshes for years? This place was… stunning!
They were standing in a living room that seemed to glow with a honey-coloured warmth. The furniture was all beautifully crafted from sanded and polished driftwood, lending a natural, beachy vibe to the room.
‘You’ve got a wood burner?!’ she gasped, spotting a lovely old, enamelled fire at the far end of the room. Okay… now she was a definitely a little bit jealous!
‘My little bit of therapy,’ said Murray with a smile.
Milly nodded, her eyes still darting around trying to take everything in. There were fishing floats and shells and interesting stones all over the place. She’d somehow expected it to be dark, cramped and cold in here. Instead, it was light, bright and colourful.
‘Shower’s through there,’ said Murray, pointing towards a door at the far side of the room. ‘One sec…’ He rummaged in a cupboard and then handed her a huge, fluffy bath towel.
‘Thanks,’ she muttered, feeling awkward again.
‘Use anything you want and take as long as you need… I’ll make some coffee.’
‘Okay… thanks,’ she said again, sounding like a stuck record.
She knew she should explain herself. She needed to apologise – for the flowers… for being an idiot… for all the mud… but she wasn’t keen to start while she still smelled like a bog-monster.
‘Won’t be long,’ she mumbled. Cuddling the towel tightly to her chest, she legged it from the living room.
The door Murray had pointed her through actually led into his bedroom – and it was just as lovely as the living room. A massive, king-sized bed sat right in the middle of the space, illuminated by perfect beams of sunlight that streamed through a row of round portholes in the hull.
The head of the bed had been crafted into bookshelves, and Milly itched to check out the titles… but there was no way she wanted to get caught snooping around his private space!
Ducking her head, she hurried across the room and pushed open another door. Sure enough, this time she found herself in the bathroom… and it was gorgeous.
There wasn’t room for a bath, but the shower was huge and boasted a fancy head that promised a rainfall experience worthy of a spa. That wasn’t what made her jaw drop, though. The walls were tiled with thousands of pieces of perfectly smoothed sea glass. Acres of the stuff twinkled back at her, studded with lights that made the greens, ambers and blues glow.
Turning to close the door behind her, Milly quietly locked it and hung her towel on the back. Everything was a bit damp and misty, and there was already a bath mat spread out on the floor. Her calls for help must have literally dragged Murray out of the shower.
A little shard of guilt hit Milly in the chest. Not only had she invited herself over to his place on some kind of weird fool’s errand, but she’d managed to cause maximum carnage while she was at it.
Blowing out a sigh, Milly quickly stripped out of her muddy clothes and dropped them into a heap on the floor. She’d deal with that particular problem after a wash!
Reaching into the shower, she turned the taps and tentatively held one hand under the stream. For some reason, she’d half expected the water to be stone cold – but it was perfect. Stepping under the torrent, Milly closed her eyes and did her best not to think about Murray standing naked exactly where she was just a few minutes ago.
What was wrong with her?!
Shaking her head, Milly opened her eyes. As much as she was tempted to stand under this delicious waterfall and soak for hours, she needed to keep her head on straight.
Wash. Dry. Get out!
She didn’t dare outstay her welcome – not when poor Murray needed another shower thanks to her!
Quickly nicking a bit of his shower gel, Milly started to scrub at the muddy tide lines on her legs and the splatters on her arms and face.
Five minutes later, she climbed out of the shower - pink in the face and feeling so much better. She grabbed the towel and, after quickly rubbing herself dry and squeezing as much water out of her hair as possible, she wrapped it around herself like a toga.
‘Okay… clothes.’ She gingerly picked her jeans up with her fingertips and then screwed her nose up in disgust. There was no way she was going to put those back on - they stank!
Milly glanced at her jumper. It was big and baggy, she might just about be able to get away with it as a sweater dress… a very very short sweater dress. It was speckled with mud too, but it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as her jeans.
A light tap on the other side of the door made Milly jump.
‘Nearly done!’ she squeaked.
‘Cool,’ said Murray, his voice slightly muffled. ‘No rush. I’ve got some spare clothes out here for you if you want them – just a pair of shorts and a tee shirt. I’ll leave them on the floor by the door. Coffee’s ready when you are.’
‘Oh,’ said Milly, ‘thanks!’
There was no reply. Did that mean he’d gone back through to the kitchen? Milly pressed her ear against the wood, listening hard. It certainly sounded like the coast was clear. Turning the lock, she opened the door a crack – just wide enough to grab the neatly folded pile of clothes before closing it again.
Milly dressed quickly and then, running her fingers through her damp hair, she wiped the steam from the mirror and checked her face.
‘Nice!’ she laughed, swiping her fingers across the mascara smudges beneath her eyes until she looked a tiny bit less like a panda.
There… that would have to do.
Milly hung her towel on the back of the door and then padded back through Murray’s bedroom. She found Murray sitting at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. It took her a moment to get over the disappointment of finding him actually wearing a tee shirt.
Right… it was time to explain why she was there, ruining his Monday afternoon. She opened her mouth, but her words disappeared as Murray turned to her and grinned.
‘Coffee?’
‘Please!’ she squeaked.