Chapter 17 Shannon #2
“This is it,” he announces, dropping my hand to spread his arms out wide.
The air cools instantly. He’s right, it’s the perfect spot and what would be a painter’s dream.
Birds call overhead, mixed with the rustle of damp leaves, and the earthy smell of wildflowers and woodland.
The grounds scattered with bark and flowers.
It makes me feel proud to live in a place as beautiful as Ashbourne, it truly is the best place for a glamping site.
We reach the stream. The sun breaks through the trees, glistening off the water, sparkling like glittering diamonds.
Wesley lays the blanket across the fallen tree, taking a seat and leaving a space beside him.
He pats the spot, an invitation I certainly won’t be turning down. I want to know everything about him.
“So, this is your spot, hey?” He stretches his long legs out, thighs brushing against mine. He sets the bag down, then picks up a fallen branch and starts poking at the dirt. I get why he needs something to do with his hands.
“Yeah. Growing up, we’d always come up here.”
I glance at him. “We?”
“Me and Tristan. We’d spend hours up here when we were kids.
” He draws circles in the dirt. “But when I got divorced… I started coming up here more.” There’s a sadness in his voice; it says more than his words do.
I know his wife cheated, but I don’t know the full extent of the story.
Maybe one day he’ll tell me, but he doesn’t have to.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I say softly, not wanting to drag up a part of his life he’d rather forget.
He presses the stick deeper into the soil, then glances over at me. “I didn’t bring you up here to talk about that shit, Shannon. Sorry.”
I reach out, rubbing his shoulder. I want to know everything about him. “It’s okay, I mean, we’re here to get to know each other, right?” I say, searching his face.
He blows out a breath before continuing. “Yeah, and I’m failing fucking miserably.”
I shake my head. “No, no you’re not. I want to know everything about you,” I say. “But you don’t have to tell me anything you’re not comfortable with.”
He dips his hand inside the carrier bag, pulling out two baguettes and holding them out to me. “Right, we’ve got BLT and cheese salad.” I grab the cheese salad from him, wishing I had crisps to stuff inside it.
“Thanks, this looks so good.” I groan, tearing open the paper bag, like I’ve been left to starve.
“You know what this needs?” Wesley announces before taking a huge bite.
“What?”
He swallows down his food then answers. “Crisps.”
I smile wider because those are my thoughts exactly.
“How long have you and Talia been friends?”
I wipe my mouth free of crumbs. “God, we’ve been friends since we were kids; she’s a huge part of my life.”
He nods in agreement. “Same as Tristan and me then.”
We both hide a laugh behind a smile because we know that those two have already been acquainted, but we don’t comment on it. Talia hasn’t shared much about the night but I know she didn’t regret it.
“Okay, here’s one for you. Your perfect day, what would it be?”
He thinks about the question. “You know when it’s pissing down and cold out, I love a log fire and a good film, with a cheeseboard selection.” He rolls his eyes, “I mean we all know I can’t cook, but I can decorate a charcuterie board.”
I snort at his chosen word. “You mean a posh man’s cheese board?”
“Hey, I’m trying to impress you.” One day he will realise that it doesn’t take a fancy name for a cheese and ham tray to impress me.
“I’d eat what you described off a paper plate,” I say, and something flashes in his eyes.
He asks, “So you’re not a fancy cutlery type of girl then?”
There’s something behind his question; it sounds like he knew someone like that once.
“You didn’t notice the mug you had this morning? Some of my best plates and cups have more chips and cracks than your plastering.” My comment earns me a scowl.
“I’ll have you know my plastering skills are second to none, sweetheart.” I feel my cheeks flush at the endearment. “What about your day? What would you do?”
It doesn’t take me long to think about it. “Pyjama days where you do absolutely nothing, just lounge about and it’s snowing outside.”
He chuckles. “So Christmas?”
I shove him. “No, not just Christmas, but I’m not made for this type of weather in the UK.” I wipe my head with a paper napkin.
“You want to try working outside in it.” He scoffs.
“At least you can whip your top off.”
His eyes drop to my chest. If I wasn’t looking at him, I’d miss it, but I don’t miss the pink tinge on the tips of his ears when he realises I caught him in the act.
Wesley swiftly changes the subject. “Anyway, you only get a cupcake if you finish the whole thing,” he says around a cheeky grin.
“Are you challenging me, Wesley?” I shoot him a look just as I take another bite.
He’s got a lot to learn about me. I don’t hide the fact that I like food, I’ll take this challenge and win.
He faces me at the same time as my mouth wraps around the crusty edge.
I catch a flicker of pink on his cheeks as I widen my mouth around the rest, yeah, there’s nothing my mouth wouldn’t be able to accommodate. Yes, I’m talking food.
“Challenge accepted, Shannon.” He’s doing that thing again where he tastes my name. We sit in comfortable silence with the low noise of the birds singing and the stream moving fast, while we finish our food.
Wesley takes the rubbish and puts it back in the bag once we’ve finished in record time. Food is definitely a joint favourite between us. He hands me a bottle of water.
“Thanks, you’ve thought of everything,” I say, taking a long drink.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck this up again,” he replies, letting out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Shan, for being an arsehole to you.”
I set the bottle down, and swing my leg over the fallen tree so I’m straddling it, and Wesley does the same so we’re facing each other.
“Well, if we’re being honest with each other…” I click my tongue. “There’s something I want to ask you about the night of our first date.” I dust off the dirt from my thigh, and Wesley straightens his back, folding his arms in front of him.
“Okay,” he says, tilting his head slightly.
“This sounds stupid, asking you now…” He lets his arms fall, hands settling on his thighs, broad and strong. It’s impossible not to stare at him, he’s just so big. I don’t think he realises he’s built to ruin me. One can dream, right?
“I just want to know…” I wave a hand between us, because it sounded way better in my head and I’m dragging it out. “Did you have second thoughts about turning up? You were late.”
He rears back, and I knew I should have swallowed it back down, but he quickly answers, “I didn’t.” He rubs his palms on his jeans. “I’m going to be completely honest with you, I wasn’t late.”
Now I’m the one confused. “What do you mean?” I just can’t help myself. “You were twenty minutes late.”
He shakes his head, his lip curves into a smile.
“I watched you through the window, Shannon,” he says, honestly.
“You were wearing a blue dress, your hair down, the waiter was standing next to you tapping his pen.” I lose him for a moment, but then he smiles, his eyes soften, and I can’t look away from him.
“I looked at my watch and realised I’d been staring at you for twenty minutes. You had so much confidence.”
A breeze picks up, blowing a strand of hair into my face, he reaches out gently, tucking it behind my ear. “Fuck, I hadn’t been on a date in forever, then there you were, sat waiting for me.”
I level with him, fixing him in place because he needs to hear this. “I wore that dress for you, Wesley,” I say softly.
“You looked fucking beautiful in that dress, Shannon.” I sense a warning in his tone; he means it. There was no way a man ever looked at me the way he did… does.
“I’m sorry I doubted you.” This time, he leans in, takes both my hands in his, like he’s holding something fragile.
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, his sheer size and strength alone give off the impression he’s not someone to be messed with, and he proved himself last night by socking bloody Barney across the chops.
I’m glad we did this. We both had things we needed to say.
“Don’t apologise. I could’ve put a stop to it, but I was just as shocked as you were.”
He lowers his head, “I’m hoping you give me a chance to show you I’m not a complete bastard.”
I squeeze his hand, pulling his attention back on me. “I know you’re not,” I tell him.
Wesley stands up and offers his hand. We gather our rubbish and head further along the small stream that runs into a pond with a small, pebbled area. Lying the blanket down, we settle into the sunny spot, and this feels like a good time to tell him about my glamping site.
“Did you always want to be a builder?” I ask, easing my way into it.
He gazes out over the pond, picking up a small, flat pebble and skimming it across the surface. We both watch as it bounces over the water, towards the other side.
“Yeah, my dad was a builder. He used to take me along at the weekends,” he says, smiling at the memory. “I always wanted to be on site. I loved getting my hands dirty.” He turns to face me. “But it’s more than that. Seeing something and thinking, I built that.” There’s real pride in his voice.
He nudges me gently. “What about you, Shannon Newton? What are your dreams?” He pulls up his long legs, resting his arms on his knees, his biceps flex, more defined with the way he’s sitting.
“Growing up, we had one day every weekend set aside for family time,” I say, smiling at the thought.
“This one day, we were supposed to go strawberry picking, only my dad took a wrong turn.” My eyes roll because Dad was always adamant, he knew the way.
“My dad is useless with directions.” Wesley grins.
“He drove us down a lane, and we ended up outside the bungalow,” I tell him, waiting for him to work it out.
“You mean my old place?” He’s properly smiling now.
“Yeah, I took a picture of it and stuck it in my scrapbook.” I glance around, the sunlight bounces off the water. I catch the look in Wesley’s eyes, bright blue, ringed with a darker edge. He looks ridiculously handsome.
“I told my parents I’d have a house like that one day.” He reaches over and gently tucks another strand of hair out of my eyes. “And they made it happen.”
“You made it happen, Shannon,” he whispers. I bite my lip. “At first, I was planning to go into IT. I passed my level three.” I clear my throat. “Actually, I passed my computer driving licence before my car.”
Wesley smirks, clearly amused.
“But erm, there has been another dream since then.”
He regards me, dragging his fingers through his beard. “Tell me, I want to know everything about you,” he says.
“I want a glamping site.” His eyebrows draw together. “Wait, not a big site, just enough for two pods.” Waving my hands in a panic, I should tell him about the plane, but I need to break that to him gently. He needs the time to come to terms with my glamping idea first.
By the look on his face, he hates it. But I carry on. “It would be in the small garden at the side of my place, out of your view and mine.” Wesley’s quiet for a minute.
“I should have told you sooner, I know.” He nods, but I still can’t read him, so I push on. “Please say something.” He blows out a breath.
“Shannon, it’s not something I want on my doorstep.” He shakes his head.
“I know,” I whisper as I drop my head. Trying to look anywhere else but at him, because I’m not ready to see disappointment on his face, not since we’ve just started to open up to each other.
But I should have told him earlier, maybe it was a bad idea.