45. Present Day – January
45
PRESENT DAY – JANUARY
JOSIE
S cott’s eyes darken. I love watching how his irises change in different lights, sometimes a deep brown with golden flecks. But right now, they’re like a dark coffee, smouldering, like an espresso.
He crowds me against the bar and reaches over to park his roller in the paint tray. I can feel the strain through his jeans as he pushes up against me.
Pointedly, he removes the paint brush from my hand and chucks that after his roller.
‘You might want to clean that up right away.’ I tip my head towards our messy gear. ‘You’ll regret it in the morning.’
He wraps his hands around my waist, his grip scalding me through my clothes. ‘I’m not gonna regret anything in the morning.’ His words rumble through me like some sort of power tool.
With a yank, he’s undone the last fastening on my dungarees. He steps back slightly as he watches them slither down my body to the floor. I secretly applaud myself for deliberately forgetting to put a bra on this morning.
Shaking my feet out of the legs, I trample on top of the clothing, then hoick myself up onto the bar.
‘Are you trying to desecrate my bar?’
‘Yes. You gonna join me?’
‘Josie, if I make love to you on my bar, I’m never going to be able to think about anything else while I’m in here.’
I shake my head slowly. ‘I can’t see any problem with that.’
‘You want me to think about you when I’m pouring pints for the old timer locals?’
‘Always.’ I pluck at his top and pout a little.
He grabs the back of it and pulls it over his head to appease me, his hair coming out tantalisingly dishevelled.
‘ And when you’re pouring shots.’ I tug at his flies and he obliges by unbuttoning them. ‘ And when you’re measuring out cocktails.’ I thrust his jeans down and pull him closer to me with my legs. ‘I don’t know if you’ve realised, but I kind of like it when you’re obsessed with me.’
His fingers thread into my hair and he leans in to kiss my neck, mumbling through his kisses, ‘I don’t know if you’ve realised, but I kind of am obsessed with you.’
‘Can you do something for me?’ I ask.
‘Pretty sure I’m gonna say yes.’
‘Fuck me. In your bar.’
He pulls away and studies me.
I can tell he’s going to argue, so I quickly say, ‘I loved how much care you took of me earlier. And you got new sheets for your bed and everything, but … please can you put fuck back into your vocabulary? I feel we need to claim every inch of this place. I want you to fuck me as well as make love to me .’ I bite my lip before I continue. ‘And I mean everywhere. We can call it Bull-riding. I’ll feel like a cowgirl.’
‘You really want to ride me in the bar?’
‘Yes, please.’
He doesn’t say anything else, but shakes out a clean dust sheet onto the floor, then scoops me off the surface and lowers us both on to it. He lies down, leaning back on his elbows, his cock pitching up in his boxers.
‘Well then, ride away, cowgirl.’
Scott insists on cleaning me up in the shower, and he meticulously combs over my body to help get rid of every last speck of paint. I love the way his huge hands are gentle, the way the feel of his gaze as he studies me is like a caress across my skin. I know it’s me he’s seeing, he’s not looking for someone he thinks I should be. When he cares for me like this, it makes me feel wanted .
Curled on his bed, we eat some of the leftovers from lunch before I notice the time.
I look up at him from where I’m half lying, cradled against his torso. ‘I’ve gotta get going.’
‘You sure you can’t stay over? Leave from here in the morning?’ He gives me a boyish grin.
‘I would love that, but I’ve got to get to Ella’s accountancy course.’ I make no move to actually get up. Too comfy. ‘It starts in half an hour.’
He kisses my forehead and murmurs, ‘I’ll miss you.’ The low rumble coming from his chest sends a thrill to my core and makes it particularly challenging to leave on time.
Only the thought of letting Ella down gives me the strength to pry myself away from Scott’s bed. As I pull my coat on, my phone pings with a text.
Mum
Still on for Sunday?
I suppress the urge to type, Of course I’m on for Sunday. We do this. Every. Week.
Josie
Yes. Can I bring anything?
Mum
How about your latest beau? You know your boyfriends are always welcome. As are Jamie’s.
Mum
Jamie’s girlfriends.
Scott lies back, hands behind his head, watching me.
I suck in a large breath as I try not to be too impatient with my infuriating mother.
Mum
Or his boyfriends??? YOU’RE BOTH WELCOME TO brING ANY ONE YOU WANT.
I sigh, blinking slowly, gathering patience.
‘Everything okay?’ Scott’s eyebrows are raised in question.
‘Just my mum being weird. Or her usual self.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ He pushes forward, squeezing a pillow under his arm to prop himself up.
‘Yeah. She’s obsessed with our Sunday lunches.’ I shake my head, rolling my eyes.
‘The ones where she wants you and Jamie to bring people?’
‘Yes.’ Hideous experience. ‘Like we’d actually put anyone through that, though.’
‘I’d do it.’ His face is completely flat.
He can’t be serious. I scrunch my brow. ‘I absolutely would not want to inflict my mother on you.’
‘I want to. If you want?’
He’d mentioned it before, and I’d dismissed it. But now I think about it, the thought of having him there — someone in my corner — makes my chest feel a little lighter.
A wide beam splits my face and I leap onto him. He lets out a grunt as I land and smother him in my arms and legs and coat and kisses. ‘You’d really come?’
He chuckles as he gasps for breath. ‘Yeah, as long as you don’t asphyxiate me before then.’
I go to get off the bed, but he pulls me down on top of him, rolling us and positioning me like I’d ridden him in the pub.
His strong, calloused hands hold me firmly in place. He looks at me, really studies my face, and his intensity knocks the laughter out of my breath.
‘I’d love to come to Sunday lunch.’
Memories of how I constantly disappoint at home flash into my head. ‘If you’re sure?’ My voice is laced with reluctance and apprehension. Not that I’m embarrassed of Scott. More embarrassed of myself. And I don’t want to put him through the gauntlet with my parents.
‘Yeah, it sounds tough. But I want to be there for you. Plus, I need to get over my fear of thinking your parents hate me.’
‘They don’t hate you. Of course they don’t.’
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said. That I’m projecting. That Marcus was never one to hold a grudge, so I shouldn’t be holding one against myself.’
I reach down and stroke his cheek.
He shuts his eyes for a long moment and then opens them. ‘I need to forgive myself. And it would be good to get to know your family again.’
I nod, mute, and we share a big breath together.
‘So.’ I waggle my phone to break the tension. ‘You in? Once I send this, there’s no going back.’
‘I’m all in.’
I roll my lips together to try to stop my ridiculous grin from streaking across my face, and pretend I’m focused on typing a message. My insides are squealing. If I could get away with lying back and kicking my legs in the air without being noticed, I would.
Josie
It’s OK Mum, I get what you mean. So, could we set the table for 5 on Sunday?
Mum
YES!
Oh, fuck, she’s still texting in capitals.
My phone starts going buzz, buzz, buzz as she sends through a string of emojis, smiley faces, streamers, praise hands, foods.
‘What’s happening?’ Scott asks.
‘Nothing much. Except, my mum’s sending me a peach emoji … and an aubergine. Jesus .’ I whisper the last bit.
His eyes bulge. ‘How much do you share with your mum?’
‘Don’t worry, I think this is her way of saying we’ll be having ratatouille and peach cobbler.’
Mum
Do they have any allergies? Do they have a NAME?
A smile tugs at my lips. ‘She’s asking if there’s anything you can’t eat … and what your name is.’
‘No dietary requirements here and,’ he quirks an apprehensive grin, ‘are you telling her by text?’
I clamber off him and snuggle down next to him, showing him the screen. ‘Sometimes these things be easier like that.’
With butterflies swirling, I type out a reply.
Josie
No allergies. It’s Scott.
‘That’s it?’ Scott playfully exclaims. ‘No build up? No explanation?’ He nuzzles a kiss to my head. ‘You’re just ripping that plaster off, aren’t you?’
‘Life’s short.’ I shrug.
Blue dots bounce as she types a reply at her end, and we lie with our heads together, watching the screen.
Mum
Well, that’s wonderful darling. You know I did wonder at New Year.
It’s like a little weight has lifted. Finally, it seems I’m doing something right.
Mum proceeds to send a string of messages confirming the menu and other details she’s already obsessing over.
‘You have no idea how relieved I am to know she’s not withdrawing the invitation.’ Scott rolls into me, propped up on his elbow and slides his free hand under my coat.
Another message comes through and I notice the time with a yelp.
‘Gotta go.’ I lean across and press a kiss to his wrist.
‘What? No mouth?’ He pouts, splaying his hand across my chest, trying to pin me under him.
‘Nope,’ I laugh. ‘Self-preservation. I’ll never get there on time if I let you kiss me.’
I slither out from under him and roll off the bed. ‘See you soon,’ I call as I streak off.
I can sense he’s getting up, but I thunder down the stairs and am out through the pub door before he can catch me up.
As I pull away, I wind the window of my car down and salute a ‘see ya’ as Scott waves from the pub door.