Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘And you wonder why I don’t want to get involved with anyone?’ I asked the next morning, as Katie and I unlocked the office door and let ourselves in.
‘Look, Popps,’ she said, gesturing for me to sit down opposite her at the desk. ‘From what you’ve said, it sounds to me as if both of your lives are a bit complicated right now.’
‘It has nothing to do with being complicated,’ I replied, my fingers tumbling over each other in my lap. ‘He goes on like he knows me, but he doesn’t. I’m not even sure why I’m wasting my energy giving him a second thought, anyway.’
Katie buried a knowing smile. ‘Because you like him. A lot. And he’s obviously very attracted to you, too.’
I tried to push away images of his chiselled face. ‘Yes, but not enough evidently, seeing as he’s been spotted with two other women.’
She propped her chin on her hand. ‘You don’t know. They might be work colleagues. Could be entirely innocent.’ She hesitated. ‘Do you know what I think?’
I jumped up from my seat and paced about in front of our noticeboard. ‘No, but I’ve got a feeling you’re about to tell me.’
Katie ignored my sarcasm. ‘You’re both wary of taking a chance. You’re actually more alike than you think.’
‘Rubbish!’ I swung open the office door, and a glow of sultry light felt its way in.
Katie raised one hand, her silver bangles rattling. ‘Is it? Right, you tell me how many dates you’ve been on since you got divorced. Go on, then. I’m waiting.’
I grimaced. ‘Er … there was that artist from the gallery who asked me out at the beginning of the year…’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Who was that? You never told me about him. What was his name? Where did you go?’
I could feel my cheeks flare with embarrassment. Katie pursed her red lips. ‘You didn’t go, did you? The poor sod asked you out, but you turned him down.’
I nodded reluctantly as I flipped our office door sign to read ‘Open’. ‘He was attractive, but I just thought it was too soon after all the mess with Nick.’
Katie’s mouth curled up at one corner. ‘But you and Nick the Dick got divorced about … what … eighteen months ago…?’
I grimaced. ‘Do we really have to trawl over my failed marriage again?’
Katie was indignant. She pushed up the sleeves of her gold lamé bolero. ‘It wasn’t your fault the marriage failed! He was the one cheating on you all the time, even before you got married, as it turned out.’
‘Yes. All right!’
Katie pinned on a welcoming smile as an older couple in sunhats and walking boots meandered through the office door.
She waited until they were preoccupied with one of our reservation price lists, before she spoke again.
‘You’ve got into the habit of living life too carefully, that’s all,’ she whispered.
‘Mooning after a dead highwayman is safe.’ She shuffled closer to my ear.
‘Next time an attractive man lets you know he’s interested, do something about it, okay? Throw caution to the wind.’
‘Yes, well,’ I faltered, ‘let’s see how things go with the cottages first, before I turn into Lara Croft, shall we?’
The weather improved during the day, bringing with it a steady stream of nosey locals and interested tourists, who were making use of the pretty walking paths.
The local paper write-up had definitely built a buzz around the cottages too.
We received two more bookings for weekend stays, this time at the beginning of June and September respectively.
Katie was charming a young Italian couple who were enquiring about Capercaillie Cottage, when an awkward-sounding cough attracted my attention.
Mason was filling the office doorway with an expectant face, Darwin was loitering beside him. ‘Stay there, boy,’ he instructed the dog.
Darwin plonked his shaggy bottom outside but didn’t appear happy about being relegated to where there was no food. He eyed our biscuit tin through the window with ill-concealed envy.
Katie spotted Mason and greeted him. ‘See what he wants,’ she whispered into my shoulder.
I let out a frustrated grunt.
‘Go on!’
I rose up from my office chair and eased past Katie, ignoring her knowing smile. ‘Hi,’ I managed. ‘How’s things?’ Don’t think about that kiss. It meant nothing. He was being a prat. But my stomach fizzed when I recalled the taste of his lips and the sensation of his mouth against mine.
Mason’s moonstone gaze matched the shade of his shirt. ‘Fine, thanks. Could I have a quick word, please?’
‘Everything’s fine here,’ ordered Katie, who’d been listening. ‘Off you go, Poppy.’
I widened my eyes at her in a silent appeal, but she just ushered Mason and me outside and returned to charming the Italian couple.
Patches of blue sky were seeping into the clouds, and below us, Port Starr harbour spread outwards like a teal carpet. The water murmured against the jutting rocks.
‘I’m sorry, Poppy,’ said Mason all at once, forcing a hand through his black hair. ‘I’m sorry for the way I acted last night.’
I set my expression into one which I hoped was casual acceptance. ‘Please just forget about it.’
‘I acted like a total knob.’
I pinned him to the spot with my eyes. ‘Yes, you did.’ I rubbed my bare arms, wishing I’d thrust a cardigan on over my lacey top. There was a pregnant pause. ‘Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.’
‘For what?’
‘For sounding flippant. Oh, and for going on about how wonderful Claude Duval sounded and how amazing I think the Scarlet Highwayman is. I didn’t mean to.’
‘I know. I was just being overly sensitive.’
We stood now overlooking Port Starr, with McKerron Castle observing us from across the waves.
His apology had caught me off guard.
‘If we work together, I’m sure we’ll crack the identity of the Scarlet Highwayman,’ Mason said finally. ‘I need you.’
His confession made my eyes spring open wider. What was he trying to say?
Mason cleared his throat. ‘Er, what I mean is, I need your enthusiasm and local knowledge.’
A sinking feeling pulled at my stomach. ‘Of course. Right. Yes.’ I waved one hand in the air. ‘I knew what you meant.’
Mason’s eyes rose to the skyline. ‘I was up late last night and then early this morning doing some more reading on local male residents of the Port Starr area around the late seventeen hundreds.’
‘And?’
‘And I’ve read more of Georgina’s diary.’ Mason stopped walking and rubbed Darwin behind his floppy ears. ‘How are you fixed for meeting up again this evening?’
‘Oh, I can’t,’ I answered in a rush. ‘I’m too busy.’ I couldn’t do that again – stand on the precipice and be on the verge of going over the edge. I had too much to lose. My self-respect for one thing. I had to step back from Mason.
He eyed me with a serious expression. ‘Look, I really am sorry for acting the way I did. I think we make a great team.’ He let his arms fall by his sides. ‘I really believe that together we can crack this story.’
My eyebrows flew up to my hairline. ‘So, what happened to the Lone Wolf then?’
He gave a megawatt smile that made my stomach jump. ‘Even a big, bad wolf needs his Little Red Riding Hood sometimes.’ Then his earnest stare was back. ‘Look. I’m so sorry I kissed you last night. Lines were blurred. It won’t happen again.’
I noted the deflating sensation in my chest, followed by a flare of defiance. Okay. Fine. If he could forget about last night and dismiss it as though it were nothing, I could too. It obviously meant diddly-squat to him.
‘Good! Great!’ I gushed, clapping my hands together. ‘That’s fine by me. Perfect.’
An odd expression took over Mason’s face.
‘That’s fine. Settled then.’ He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘It’s just that I’ve uncovered some really interesting facts about some of the local families,’ he continued.
‘And there are a couple of other things I really think you should see.’ He plunged both hands into his jean’s pockets.
This is not about you, anyway, Mason Cooper. This is all about getting to the truth of the Scarlet Highwayman.
I aimed to sound nonchalant. ‘I’ll meet you here again, outside the office, at five-thirty.’
Mason nodded. ‘Great. See you then.’
I gave my upper arms another absent rub and started back. I’d only got a few feet, when Mason’s voice called after me across the cobbles.
‘And it’s my turn to make us dinner this evening.’
What? At his flat?
I began to protest, but he held up one long-fingered hand. ‘I insist.’
What I failed to notice as I waved Mason goodbye was Alex Lapley’s pretentious sports car secreted around the next corner.