Chapter Twenty-One
I wake up, a large hand resting lightly on my shoulder, shaking me softly.
‘Ugh,’ I mumble, mouth dry, breath not ideal. ‘What time is it?’
‘Six thirty a.m.’
My stomach lurches in panic and I scramble up, completely disorientated. ‘Is Josie okay?’
‘What?’
It takes me a moment to realise where I am, who I am, who is here and who is not here. I clear my throat.
‘Oh, sorry. Nothing. I mean, is something wrong?’
River’s eyes narrow. ‘Why would anything be wrong?’
I grab my phone and hold it up to my nose. ‘Um, because it’s six thirty a.m.?’
‘I thought I’d let you lay in a while,’ River says, benevolently.
‘So, there’s not an emergency?’
‘What are you talking about? Of course there ain’t an emergency. You think I’d be standing here chitter-chattering if there were an emergency?’
I slide on my glasses to see River in high-definition and wearing clean clothes – a checked red and grey flannel shirt and one of the pairs of jeans in need of fixing, the one missing a back pocket.
His hair is tousled and slightly damp, stubble now verging on beard territory.
Without his Stetson and dressed in this specific shirt he looks like one of those TikTok lumberjacks who have a million followers (with not one of those followers actually interested in the wood that’s being cut).
He’s holding out a glass of water for me.
As I take it from him, I notice the light scent of coffee on his breath.
‘Wait …’ I croak. ‘How long have you been awake?’
River shrugs. ‘About an hour or so.’
I screw up my face. ‘Why?’
‘I slept in awfully late the last couple of days – I must have been exhausted, what with the whole where the fuck am I and how the fuck do I get back? thing. But usually I wake with the dawn. Why? Do you not usually wake with the dawn?’
I shake my head and thirstily gulp down the water he gave me.
‘No, I most definitely do not wake with the dawn. Especially on a Saturday.’ I place the empty glass onto the side table and sink my head back into the soft cottony pillows, covering a huge yawn with my hand.
‘I thank you for thinking of me, River, but I believe I will be going back to sleep now.’
‘Nope,’ River chides, plonking down onto the end of the bed, the weight of him meaning that I sort of bounce about a bit. I sit up with a huff.
‘Nope?’
‘Nope. We need to get to work.’ River folds his arms across his chest and lifts his chin. ‘Clearly, last night did not bring the success we’d hoped for with Henry.’ He indicates my presence in the bed with an annoying flourish.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and groan. ‘I already told you, River. Henry and I are more than sex.’
‘What about the holding of each other all night long you thought might happen? Didn’t pan out, huh? If you two had gotten back together, surely you’d still be in there, him stroking your hair, you stroking his palm.’
I flush red. Why the hell did I share such intimate details with him. Of course he’s going to use them to embarrass me. That’s what villains do! I open my mouth to protest, but River is right. Last night was a total failure.
‘After seeing you in action last night I’ve concluded that you need to practise your flirting skills,’ River informs me.
‘I’m sorry to say you are sorely lacking.
You have to cast Henry back under your spell, make him remember the early days of your hooking-up.
The hot, can’t-get-enough-of-each-other, let’s-fuck-on-the-side-of-the-road phase. ’
‘Let’s-fuck-on-the-side-of-the-road phase?’ I screw my face up. ‘Is that a thing? You mean, like people who pull over their cars to have sex because they literally cannot wait till they get home to have sex in the comfort of their own beds? That sounds so unreasonable.’
‘Oh Gertie.’ River eyes me with pity.
‘And anyway, even if Henry and I were the kinds of people who ever did stuff like that, I’m not the flirty type. I never was. And neither is Henry. It’s not what he responds to.’
‘I reckon Marisol Keats would disagree.’
I glance at him sharply. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘The two of them last night at the quiz. While you were in the restroom.’
‘What happened?’ Was Henry flirting with Marisol?
Is something going on with them? The mere thought makes me feel like I’m going to vomit with jealousy.
Marisol Keats is better than me in every conceivable way.
No. It can’t be that. Henry explicitly said last night that he wasn’t seeing anyone else.
‘Don’t have yourself a coronary.’ River holds his palms up. ‘All I’m saying is that maybe Henry is not as purely cerebral as you think.’
I tut. ‘So, what then? You’re going to teach me how to flirt, are you?’
‘I’m an expert flirter. You could learn a thing or two from me, sweetheart.’
His cockiness is so irritating.
I roll my eyes. ‘Has it ever occurred to you that people only respond to you the way they do purely because of how you look? That they fancy you in spite of your personality. That their googly eyes are because you’re …’
‘Because I’m what?’
‘Oh, you know. Big Cowboy Handsome Hunk.’ I wave my hand airily, cheeks pinkening as my words echo back at me. ‘You’ve got a massive head start.’
‘Big Cowboy Handsome Hunk?’ River’s mouth twitches with amusement. ‘Why, thank you.’
I adjust my glasses on my nose. ‘Hush. My point is that some of us don’t have the show-stopping looks to pull off flirting. Some of us would just look stupid.’
River’s face softens. ‘You’re very pretty, Gertie.’
‘You’re very pretty? Is this you trying to flirt? Well, it’s not working. I know your game.’ I sigh. ‘And anyway, I can’t change my entire personality now. Henry would be weirded out. He’d see right through it.’
‘Flirting isn’t about changing your personality. It’s about leaning into it. Taking what you already have and using it strategically to get the exact reaction you want.’
‘That sounds deeply unethical.’
‘Flirting is fun, playful, full of anticipation and second-guessing.’ River frowns then tilts his head to the side and fastens his eyes on to mine.
‘Sorry, hold on,’ he says, voice suddenly low and toasty as the strike of a match.
‘You’ve got an errant eyelash.’ He reaches out and, eyes not leaving mine the whole time, uses the pad of his thumb to swipe ever so slowly across my cheekbone.
’ He smiles warmly and to my extreme annoyance my heart starts racing in response to the unexpected intensity of his gaze.
I find myself smiling back at him dopily.
‘You wanna make a wish, Gertie?’ he murmurs, holding his thumb so, so close to my lips. ‘You can have anything you want.’
I nod, somehow suddenly hypnotised by the flecks of gold in his eyes, the melody in his deep lilting voice. ‘Yes. I do. I want to …’
River suddenly snatches his thumb back. ‘Well, you can’t,’ he says, his tone clipped. The twinkle in his eyes disappears like someone found the button labelled Charm and flicked it off. ‘Because there is no errant eyelash. I was making it up!’
‘What?’
‘And that,’ he stands up and spreads his arms wide, ‘was just me, performing some – rudimentary, I might add – flirting.’
‘My God.’ I twist my mouth to the side. ‘You are good at that. What were you doing with your voice? It was like you were casting a spell over me. And the eyelash thing? Very sneaky.’
‘You could have that same effect on Henry,’ River says with a quirk of his brows. ‘If you let me show you how.’
‘Fine.’ I rub a hand over the back of my neck. ‘I just need to relax, loosen up a bit. I’m so uptight and nervy about it all, it’s making me act weird. I can’t flirt if I’m all tense.’
‘That makes sense.’ River loops his thumbs into his waistband. ‘So what does Gertie Bickerstaff do to relax? And … is it something I can help with? To loosen you up?’
I peer at him. ‘Something you can help with to loosen me up? I can’t tell if you’re flirting again or it’s just your accent and deep voice making it sound that way.’
‘It’s just my accent and deep voice this time.’
I snort. ‘Good. Well, actually, there is something I think will relax me.’
‘Great,’ River says, taking my hand and yanking me out of the bed. ‘What is it? A walk? A run? You want to explore the grounds? Get in nature? Let’s get to it.’
*
I step into the spa pool area to find that River is already situated in the jacuzzi and looking not at all happy about it.
I edge carefully down the steps into the warm, soothing bubbles and I sit to River’s left, sinking down into the water, my shoulders immediately loosening with the soothing sensation of water dancing over my skin.
I take my phone and look up ‘Spa Music Track 1’, placing the phone on the little ledge behind me and pressing play.
The sound of pan pipes, flutes and tinkling bells starts to drift into the air.
I breathe in deeply, the scent of lavender and rosemary making me feel immediately sleepy. When I exhale it’s with a happy sigh.
‘I know it’s not your cedar tree in the meadow, or your horse Kenneth, but the bubbles – they feel good, don’t they?’
‘I don’t know,’ River says, wriggling about awkwardly. ‘Feels kinda like I’m trapped in the belly of a beast with gastric issues.’
‘Wait, is this your first time in a jacuzzi?’
‘I don’t exactly have time for jacuzzis.’
‘That’s a shame. They always zen me out. Josie and I used to go to one in London the morning after a night out. They’re a great hangover cure.’
‘I don’t get hangovers.’
‘Must be nice.’
River huffs. ‘So … what exactly do we do in the jacuzzi?’
‘We relax,’ I say. ‘Just … soak in the zen of the spa.’
He nods slowly and then, less than two minutes later, he sighs heavily and starts tapping his fingers on the side of the jacuzzi barrier. I side-eye him.
‘I’m sorry.’ He clasps his hands together. ‘I’m afraid I’m not used to “soaking in the zen of the spa”.’