Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
After two coffees and one enormous Herm cooked breakfast, which he had to put on a tab with Charlie, Dylan was itching to go back to Heron Cottage and get his phone. Lily kept offering to take him, but Frankie shut her down quick.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘It’s fine. I can take him. I need to finish the other cottages anyway.’ For some reason she was antsy. Restless. Desperate to get outside, despite the weather. Desperate to get this annoying stranger out of her hair and everything back to normal. Safe. Quiet.
‘Darling, relax, I think we’ve established there won’t be anyone arriving in this.’ Her mother waved a leisurely and perfectly manicured hand at the window, where the rain was now horizontal.
‘I know, but I prefer to get it done if possible.’
‘Not in this, surely,’ said Lily. ‘Take a day off while you can. Why don’t you look after our lovely Dylan here? At least get him settled in the hotel. You work too hard, darling.’
Dylan’s eyes were on her. She could feel it. Frankie refused to look at him but she knew her face was burning. ‘I don’t think that’s true, is it? I get plenty of time off.’ This through gritted teeth.
‘Do you?’ said Lily.
‘Yeah, do you?’ said Dylan.
‘You stay out of this,’ snapped Frankie.
Her mother smiled. ‘At least take a couple of hours off. Get this man some clothes. Help him get his phone. Then you can help Sally out at the hotel if you want. Maybe Dylan can even help you, he looks nice and strong.’ She put her hand on Dylan’s bicep, her eyes lingering on his for a split second too long before she got up and wandered over to the bar.
‘I like her,’ he said, his eyes following Lily’s hips as she sashayed across the room.
‘Of course you do. Everybody does,’ said Frankie, biting back the tinge of jealousy that was as familiar as breathing.
‘I mean, she’s got a point,’ he said, turning towards her. ‘You could use a day off from the sounds of it. Hey, how about you show me the sights?’ His blue eyes crinkled as he grinned at her.
She snorted. ‘Are you kidding? We’ll be lucky if the roof stays on this place.’
He held up his hands. ‘Sorry. Just trying to stay positive, Dunkirk spirit and all that. What do you do here anyway, Frankie? I mean, you know, do you live here?’ he asked.
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Not to me. Hungover, remember?’ He pointed to himself.
‘Sure. Well, yes, we live here and my family runs the holiday cottages. You know, like the one you commandeered without asking permission from anyone or even giving it a second thought.’ She peered at him and he had the grace to wince slightly.
‘Anyway, it’s my job to service them between visitors.
But we do loads of other stuff on the island, everyone pitches in. ’
‘And your dad? Is he around?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah, he’ll be about somewhere. Taking shelter at the moment, hopefully.’
At that exact moment, the door clattered open and Frankie glanced over, fully expecting her dad to be standing there. Hoping, really. She was a bit worried about him in the storm. But no. Not her dad. Not this time.
‘Hi, Jake,’ she said reluctantly as the fisherman approached the bar.
‘Frankie,’ said the new arrival, taking off his hat and shaking raindrops all over the floor.
Jake was a six-foot-two-inch Viking throwback with blond hair and green eyes.
He was an oyster fisherman and one of the only vaguely eligible men who regularly came to the island, if you could call him eligible.
Thankfully he usually smelled more of the ocean than the oysters.
‘Pint of your finest,’ said Jake to the barman, then turned to Frankie and Dylan, his green eyes curious. They were a shade darker than Frankie’s own. She’d always thought they suited him far better.
‘Who’s this, then?’ he said, putting out a hand to shake Dylan’s. ‘You’re gonna need a few more clothes, mate, if you’re going out in that.’
‘Thanks for the tip,’ said Dylan, crossing his arms across his chest, not for the first time that day. Then, to Frankie, ‘Fancy a proper drink, then? If you’re not working, that is?’
‘I’m surprised you could face one at this hour,’ said Frankie.
Dylan shrugged. ‘Hair of the dog and all that. Whatever the hell that means.’
‘Shouldn’t we go and get you some extra clothes first?’ she said, indicating his bare chest.
He grinned. ‘I thought you liked the minimalist look.’
‘Whatever gave you that idea?’
Dylan spread his arms so his waistcoat opened wider. He really was very well put together, she thought, purely objectively of course.
‘Tell me I’m wrong, then.’
‘I don’t think I ever said anything to that effect.’
‘It wasn’t anything you said.’
Frankie’s face was burning again. What was it about this man?
She cleared her throat, which only made Dylan’s grin wider.
Meanwhile, Jake was looking between them now.
When they didn’t take the hint, he gave a little cough.
Thankful for the distraction, Frankie turned to him.
‘Sorry, how rude of me. Dylan, say hi to Jake. Jake, this is Dylan.’
Jake was giving him a look that could cut diamonds, but he stuck out his hand and shook Dylan’s firmly. ‘Good to meet you, mate. Stuck here, are you?’
‘Yeah, I’ve had better mornings, I won’t lie,’ he replied.
‘Bad luck.’
Dylan glanced at Frankie. ‘Ah, I don’t know, it’s not all bad.’
Jake visibly bristled, and Frankie wanted the floor to open up and swallow her. What the hell was she going to do with this person in the middle of a storm? And why was it even her problem?