Chapter Nineteen #2
‘Oh, I’ll happily oblige,’ River beams, swinging his arm around my waist and pulling me towards him so that his hand rests flat on my midriff.
I can feel the heat of him through the fabric of my dress.
My breath catches in my throat. He feels like a hot water bottle.
A sexy, rugged hot water bottle. The muscular enormity of his body elicits an annoying little thrill in me, something between danger and desire.
I immediately try to tamp down the sensation of it but my treasonous limbs start to pulsate in response, my mouth going instantly dry.
What the hell is happening to me? It’s not like I’ve never been touched by a handsome man before.
I just spent four years being touched by the handsomest man in the world.
Argh. It’s so hot in here. It’s too hot.
Panicking, I grab Zo’s pint of iced water and tip it back, necking the whole thing so quickly it dribbles down my chin.
To my horror, River immediately reaches out his forefinger and gently wipes an errant droplet off the corner of my lip before casually popping that very same forefinger into his mouth and sucking the water off.
‘Yum,’ he says, in a voice so low it’s almost a hum.
Oh. My. God.
I actually go dizzy. Am I … am I swooning right now?
Zo picks up the food menu and starts fanning herself with it as her eyes flick between River and me. Marisol touches her hand to her throat. Jim eyes Henry with worry and Sir Otto takes a huge gulp of red wine, eyes goggling at the indelicate display.
All the while, Henry is focused on River, the benign smile on his face betrayed by the rapid tapping of his hands on his knees, something he always used to do whenever he was annoyed.
When the waitress reappears, River takes his glass of bourbon, pauses to enjoy a brief sip, and closes his eyes in bliss. ‘Thank you, sweetheart. That’s a damn fine prairie dew, right there.’ The waitress flushes red with pleasure as she puts my cider down on the table.
‘So there I was at home in Texas,’ River continues, seemingly oblivious to the effect he’s having. ‘Skangling – I mean googling myself, as one does …’ He throws out a knowing grin at the crowd, eyes twinkling with self-deprecation. ‘Oh, come on now, don’t tell me y’all ain’t googled yourself?’
A gentle laugh goes up around the table. ‘I know you have,’ River teases Marisol. She grins and lifts her palms up in an admission of guilt. ‘And what do I find but pages upon pages of results about some character called River Oakley from a book series called Bedlam Creek.’
‘That’s my book series,’ I explain, not sure where this is going, but wanting, always, to look like I do.
‘River Oakley, a cowboy from Texas. Just like me.’ River chuckles raspily, taking another sip of his bourbon while smoothly topping up Jim’s glass of wine from the fresh bottle now on the table.
‘And I thought, now what are the chances of that? So I did a little more online research. And up pops Gertie on the image page, cute as a button, of course. The author of this Bedlam Creek series.’ He leans down towards me and I struggle to keep it together as he briefly plants his lips against my temple.
Once again I find myself instinctively leaning into it before sharply pulling away because this is supposed to be fake.
But also not look fake. Gah. It’s too confusing!
I peek up at River and try to psychically warn him to tone it down a notch, but it’s no use.
His eyes are firmly on his audience, entirely focused on the yarn he is so confidently spinning.
And it’s working. Now his bravado is dialled all the way up, they are transfixed.
‘So I emailed Gertie to politely remind her that any resemblance of her characters to persons living or dead ought to be entirely coincidental, legally speaking.’ He quirks an eyebrow.
‘And that I, being an American, was not afraid of litigation.’
The table laughs again. ‘Jolly good,’ Sir Otto booms, slapping his hand lightly against his tweeded knee.
‘We ended up corresponding online for a little while,’ River carries on. ‘And pretty soon, wouldn’t you know it, that email correspondence turned into … well …’ River reaches for my hand again. ‘Let’s see how the story ends.’
‘Marvellous,’ Sir Otto says. ‘How lovely. Books really are the great connector.’
‘Adore,’ Marisol adds. ‘Such an incredible coincidence, the name thing. Life is wild, right? Wow. It’s such an unusual name too. River.’
I sneak a glance at Henry, who is looking coolly at River.
His eyes slide across to me, hands still tapping lightly on his knees.
I avert my gaze, stomach starting to hurt with the guilt of lying to him.
But what else can I do? I can hardly tell him the truth, can I?
Hi Henry! Here is my surprise party guest, a completely imaginary cowboy character come to life from my book.
We are faking a dalliance in order to convince you to end our break and move back in with me so I can be happy again! Cool and totally sane, huh?
‘Okay then, guys!’ Zo cuts in with a glance at her wristwatch and a double clap of her hands. She picks up a blue rubber-encased iPad from the table. ‘It’s time to get quizzing! Arrange yourselves into two teams, please.’
‘Henry?’ I ask with a calm smile that belies my wildly skittering insides. ‘Want to team up on the quiz? For old times’ sake?’
‘Of course.’ He beckons me over to his side of the table, face softening as I meet his eyes.
Excellent. This is a good place to start. An opportunity to remind Henry of what a good team we once made, undefeated at our local Bloomsbury pub quiz, but also an excellent team in, you know, life. A team that should be a team forever.
‘I’ll join you two, if you don’t mind?’ Marisol adds plummily before I can make sure River is also on my team.
‘Of course!’ Henry says, shifting over so Marisol can sit next to him.
‘Welcome,’ I say shyly, trying not to act like a total fangirl, although it’s Marisol Keats and she’s an absolute genius and has the clearest skin I have ever seen on a human being.
‘I’m going to buy your books immediately,’ she says, taking a sip from her glass of wine. ‘I read the Outlander series last year. My first ever foray into romance novels and I loved it.’
‘You read Outlander?’ I gasp. From the corner of my eye, I think I see Henry roll his eyes ever so slightly.
She nods. ‘Yes. The writing was spectacular. It’s appalling that romance gets so overlooked by the critics.
’ She lowers her voice, while Henry stands up to grab a pen from Zo.
‘If men were writing these big, expansive, deeply emotional love stories about the female experience, you can guarantee they’d be winning awards all over the fucking place. ’
My eyes widen. ‘I agree!’
Zo clicks her fingers to get everyone’s attention.
‘All decided – Jim, Otto and River on team one, and Marisol, Henry and Gertie on team two.’ It takes a moment for everyone to get settled into their new places around the table.
I try to throw River an apologetic look for not having made sure he’s on my team – something to let him know that he need not worry about not knowing any of the answers in a literary quiz – but he’s already settled in and whispering something to Sir Otto which makes Sir Otto’s mouth open in shock before he bursts into loud laughter, slapping his thigh in mirth.
I feel slightly embarrassed for suggesting that River couldn’t hold his own with this group.
He’s already doing a better job than I ever did when Henry and I were together.
Zo taps purposefully onto her iPad.
‘Ready, guys?’ she says with the enthusiasm of a prime-time TV presenter. ‘Let’s quiz!! But first, the rules …’
As Zo tells us the rules of the quiz and everyone else listens politely, Henry leans over to me, his voice low, breath tickling my neck. ‘You look lovely tonight, Gertie.’
‘Oh.’ I touch my chest self-consciously. ‘Thank you. As, indeed, do you.’
‘I actually wanted to talk to you.’
‘Oh?’
‘After the quiz. You’ll come by my room, yes? I believe it’s next door to yours?’
He wants me to go to his room? My eyes widen. Has it already worked? Has the mere presence of River already pushed Henry into realising that he can’t bear to see me with anyone else?
I turn to Henry, pure hope and relief making me grin stupidly. ‘I’ll be there.’