Chapter 29
‘Good Old Devan,’ said Alyssa, realisation hitting.
‘That’s what I implied, wasn’t it?’ She clapped a hand over her forehead as they stepped through Devan’s front door.
It was a relatively new-build Cotswold stone house, and Alyssa could already tell from the neat, fresh-smelling hallway that Devan was still the tidy sort.
‘I’m sorry. I mean, you are a great guy, but I wasn’t implying that’s all there is to you – like you’re dependable, but a bit dull. ’
They took off their shoes and moved to Devan’s main living space, which was decorated mainly in neutral shades, with a dark green feature wall and tan leather furniture.
There was a big-screen TV and various laptops and hints of technology dotted around, though it was surprisingly well ordered for what she guessed was now his bachelor pad, and she spotted at least three houseplants that looked reasonably well cared for.
She should ask Jess to hook him up with some macramé plant hangers.
‘Thank you,’ he finally replied. ‘I guess that’s why I went a bit quiet back there. That, on top of our chat about you being what the police might call a flight risk,’ he added wryly. ‘You might lure me in and leave town again.’
‘It’s entirely possible.’ She winked at him. ‘But it’s better to have loved and lost.’ It was OK to use the L-word, as long as it was a cliché.
‘Ouch.’ He seemed to think for a moment. ‘And as for the G-O-D thing. It’s not that I don’t want to be reliable. I actually do. But one day, maybe I’ll get to be more than just that dependable guy to someone. You know?’
Oh – he wanted to be the hot guy. Perhaps she should scrap the macramé idea, or he might get a complex.
‘I know,’ she replied, resisting the urge to tell him he was definitely morphing into the hot guy. In fact, she was trying not to imagine him hotly stripping off that ‘I’m Sow into You’ T-shirt in a welcome re-enactment of the shared garden task.
Wow, tiredness was doing dangerous things to her. Or maybe in a bizarre twist of technology, ’Appy Together had thrown them exactly the right task to help them open up. And now that they had …
‘Erm. Coffee?’ He pointed towards the open door of the kitchen.
‘I am tempted by that incredible-looking coffee machine,’ she said, making her way to the kitchen with him, curious to see more of his home. ‘Though coffee would wake me up, and I could do with sleeping.’ Her nose crinkled. ‘And maybe having a wash?’
‘You always smell good to me,’ he said, flicking the kettle on.
‘Though you’re welcome to use the shower if you want to de-pig before you sleep.
You can take my bed, because the sheets are clean.
I’ll make up Emmalina’s or nap on the couch.
And if I was being Good Old Devan – which I’m not – I’d wonder whether you fancied hot chocolate instead of coffee.
And then I’d suggest pre-bed Penguin biscuits, which are particularly good for dunking. ’
Alyssa felt her stomach rumble. ‘Please tell me they’re orange flavoured?’
‘You’ll be happy to know I stock all flavours.’ He gave a small bow, his easiness starting to seep back. ‘I don’t disappoint.’
She raised her eyebrows, stepping towards him. ‘Oh, you are good. Though if you want to shake off your image and channel your inner bad boy, you’ll have to be less accommodating.’
‘What, like offering you crap biscuits and making you sleep on the couch?’
‘Oh, that would be bad.’ She laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek, sitting on one of his high breakfast bar chairs, before she got the urge to touch him again, or whisper where she’d really like to spend the night.
They sat drinking hot chocolate, dipping Penguin biscuits and debating the best way to eat them.
They both enjoyed nibbling the top off first, although Devan admitted he only did that when Emmalina wasn’t looking.
Alyssa loved how he wasn’t self-conscious about drinking hot chocolate with extra squirty cream and glittery pink sprinkles.
They talked easily about the things Alyssa had thought would be difficult, like his life with a young child, and having to pretend he and Sylvie were a couple to onlookers, though neither of them had ever felt that way about each other.
Then moving out and not seeing Emmalina every day was still tough for him too.
Alyssa could see more traces of his pre-teen girl in the kitchen, even though she mainly lived with Sylvie. Heart mugs, and the odd beaded bracelet and hair scrunchie. They were a nice contrast to his organised space.
By six a.m. they were both yawning again. And though the rest of the town would be getting ready to wake, they had hardly slept, and Alyssa really did want that hot shower.
‘Can I?’ she asked, pulling at her clothes like she wanted to get out of them. ‘Get clean, I mean.’
‘Yes, of course.’
After a quick tidy-away she grabbed her things, and Devan showed her upstairs to the bathroom, Alyssa only briefly imagining an only one shower situation, before telling her brain to behave.
‘When you’re ready to sleep, take my room.’
He pointed to an open door where Alyssa could see a double bedroom.
A large bed with clean, inviting sheets sat in the middle of a room that was painted in grey shades with deep blue accents that she might have said matched his eyes, if she’d been there to appraise things.
Though she was a little too sleepy for that.
Alyssa showered quickly, wrapping herself in Devan’s deliciously soft white towels that smelled of fresh linen, and went to Devan’s room to dry her hair.
She sat on the bed as she ran the dryer over her messy pink waves, her body sinking into the comfort of the mattress.
Devan had lit the fireplace, which was built into the wall and looked like real flames.
It gave the room a cosy glow and a burst of much-needed warmth.
She could hear the shower running again and blinked away the thought of Devan naked inside it, water cascading down him.
She wondered how that might look now, remembering again how he’d yanked off his top at the allotment and she’d noticed a whole lot of gym muscle he hadn’t had at nineteen.
She was willing to concede he probably wasn’t the sort of poser who dried his pubes with the changing room hairdryer, after all.
As though the universe was answering her, she heard the bathroom door open, and Devan stepped out, a long bath towel around his lower half, his top half bare.
Her eyes devoured what she saw, even though she knew it was rude to stare.
In that moment, she couldn’t help it. When they’d been gardening, she’d been too busy being annoyed by his bravado to notice the light smattering of brown hair, or the deep shade of his now-hard nipples.
And she definitely hadn’t had chance for an eyeful of the sweep of hair that led from his navel to his substantial bulge, which was quite frustratingly hidden by a layer of towelling.
‘Oh, sorry.’ Devan looked up to notice the bedroom door was open and her gaze was fixed on him.
Or more accurately, her eyes were sizing up his manhood, with her mouth slightly ajar. She clamped it shut and mumbled an apology back.
‘It’s your house,’ she said meekly. ‘You’re welcome to …’ She waved an arm, trying to convey that he could wander around half naked on his own landing, if he wanted. The words had somehow escaped her.
‘I was miles away,’ he muttered back. ‘A hot shower can transport you. Erm. Yeah. I’d better make up the other bed.’
She could see he was shivering, and not at all full of the semi-bare swagger she’d seen on the allotment task. He’d suggested that had just been nerves. Was he nervous now? Seeing him step out of the shower room had certainly given her butterflies.
He opened the only other door on the upper floor, and she heard him sigh. Craning to see, she spotted a pink-painted room with a single bed piled high with clean washing, boxes of board games, and other random items that looked like they needed putting away.
‘So that’s where you keep your mess.’ She chuckled. ‘I was beginning to think you were superhuman.’
‘Everyone has their secret junk piles,’ he answered, still shivering, his torso not properly dry. ‘And pre-teens make a lot of mayhem.’
As much as she was enjoying his rear view, she couldn’t leave him standing there.
‘This is no time to be sorting out your ironing. Come and sleep in with me.’ She could feel her own heart racing at the thought of it, even though it was surely just sensible logistics.
‘No, it’s fine. Honestly. I’ll pull out the duvet and sleep on the couch downstairs. I can’t invite you here and then pull an only one bed situation – especially after the incident when we only had one sleeping bag. I’m not that guy.’
He’d turned to look at her, his eyes honest. She knew he wasn’t that guy. He was a good one. Though parts of her longed to encourage a bad streak.
‘And for the avoidance of doubt, you’re one hundred per cent off duty now. My love app business is not paying you to be in my bedroom.’
She had to smile at that.
Alyssa patted the bed next to her. ‘I insist. It’s your house, and we’ve slept together before. I mean, not actually slept together. But, you know.’ She was waffling again too.
And he was still shaking. She jumped up and pulled him by his hands into the warm room, shutting the door behind him. She took a spare towel from the radiator and placed it around his shoulders, rubbing some heat into his upper arms.
‘There. At least we don’t have an only one towel situation.’ She nodded to the one wrapped around his waist. ‘If you remove that, my poor eyeballs won’t know where to look.’
He smiled, gazing down at her, their faces getting closer with that inexplicable pull. ‘Then I’ll be sure not to remove it.’
There was a cheeky tease in his voice, and she couldn’t resist returning it.
‘That seems a shame,’ she replied, hooking her fingers over the waist of his towel and pulling him in closer.
She heard his sharp intake of breath as the tips of her fingers touched his lower stomach, dancing dangerously close to what lay beneath.
His sudden powerlessness to her touch gave her a thrill.
She hadn’t been planning this, as she’d been yawning and drying her hair, thinking absently about his muscly pecs. But now …
‘Oh God, Alyssa. I’d honestly better sleep downstairs if you don’t want this to go any further. I don’t think I can be here with you, like this, and not want to …’
She put a finger to his lips. Because if he said throw you on the bed and do hot things to you, she might just explode.
He moved her finger away, his face coming down to hers. Their lips found each other, touching gently at first, as though neither of them could quite believe this was happening again. And this time, they wouldn’t be interrupted by a hoofed hog called Nicole Pigman.
She felt his lips twitching into the biggest smile, before something like lust must have taken over him too.
Then their mouths moved together, his groaning with a deep at last pleasure, hers falling into a trance that felt oh so familiar.
She knew this kiss, she remembered every part of it.
Maybe not this exact one, but the memory of how it felt to kiss him properly was flooding back.
She’d dreamed about it more times than she cared to admit, but the reality of it felt so instinctive, she didn’t even need to think.
It wasn’t long before they fell into Devan’s fresh, white bed, kissing deeply, arms wrapped around each other, like they had forever to remember the way.
As much as she’d imagined him naked in the shower, now their bodies were entwined, soft towelling still between them, there seemed no rush for anything.
It was as though they didn’t need anything more, in that moment, but to hold each other and let their hearts and bodies reacquaint.