It wasn’t that he’d had a bad evening. In fact he would go as far as to say it had been fun, even knowing he’d gained an octogenarian assistant partial to gin, sausages and ribald humour. But having spent so much of the evening sitting next to Lottie, his thigh brushing hers, his eyes transfixed by her animated face, he was desperate to get her alone.
He glanced behind at Chewie, who was watching him warily from the back seat. Okay, aloneish.
‘One more stop,’ he said as he re-started the engine. Immediately her head turned to stare out of the passenger window and a niggle of worry wormed through him. Had she changed her mind about spending the night with him? He tried to recall their conversation … something about her having Chewie. Maybe she’d never actually agreed to him staying over?
‘It was kind of you to take on Audrey,’ she said into the silence. ‘She was made up.’
His anxiety increased when she didn’t meet his eyes. ‘It was a business decision. She might help attract more young-at-hearts into the shop.’
Lottie slipped him a smile, but it seemed strained. ‘We both know that’s not why you agreed to hire her.’
She was quiet for the rest of the short journey.
‘No van?’ he asked as he pulled up into the place in front of her house where she usually parked it.
‘No. It’s poorly. It’s in the garage.’
‘Damn. Can they fix it by Monday morning for you?’
She twisted her hands in her lap, another indication that something was up. ‘Mum said I can borrow her car, so I’ll be okay.’
He wasn’t sure if it was the van, or him, but one of them was upsetting her. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
Lottie sighed. ‘It needs a new head gasket.’
‘Ouch.’ He whistled. ‘That’s expensive.’
‘Exactly.’ She gave a quick shrug of her shoulders. ‘So I need to scrape together some funds before I get the garage to repair it.’
He watched her carefully. ‘Is your mum’s car big enough to carry your tools? And, of course, your helpful canine assistant?’
Lottie huffed out a laugh. ‘It’s a Mini.’ She turned to face him. ‘Just in case you were going to offer the loan of this ridiculously snazzy car, the answer is no. I’d be terrified to drive it and besides, the customers would think I’m ripping them off if I turn up in a Jag.’
He could see her point, just as he could see borrowing her mum’s car wasn’t a great solution either. But if he offered to lend her the money to fix the van, she’d not only turn him down flat, she’d be embarrassed. ‘What if I told you I had a van I could lend you?’
Her eyes rounded in surprise. ‘I’d say either you were playing a trick on me, which I’d have to immediately discount because you’re not that mean, or you’re suffering some weird memory lapse, because no way does Matthew Steele own a van.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong.’ Or she would be, by Monday morning. ‘I bought one to help with the move here,’ he bluffed. ‘And to set up the shop. I kept it on to help me with large deliveries.’ Ironically, if he had done, it would have been bloody useful – more so than the F-Pace. Still, in his book, luxury would always win over practicality, though he suspected the opposite was true for Lottie.
‘Are you being serious?’ She looked like she was scared to believe him.
Years of working in the city had taught him to bullshit with confidence. ‘Absolutely. It’s yours for as long as you want it.’
‘But won’t you need it? You know, for the deliveries.’
Ah yes, the phantom huge deliveries. ‘I’m sure I can manage with this ridiculously snazzy car for the time being.’
‘Wow, well, that’s great.’ A smile split her face, and she looked more like the Lottie he knew. ‘Thank you.’
For a few beats silence echoed round the car and it was then Matt realised she wasn’t going to invite him in. He tried to rein in his disappointment. Maybe she was just tired. Maybe she’s just not that interested in you.
‘Look, I—’
‘Perhaps I should—’
She bit into her lip. ‘You were going to suggest you went home.’
‘I thought that was what you wanted,’ he answered carefully.
‘It’s not.’ She looked back up at him. ‘God, look at you, all debonair and gorgeous, and that’s even without factoring in what you’ve just done for Gira and Audrey. Of course I don’t want our night to end yet, it’s just…’ She sighed and nodded over to her house. ‘My place is an embarrassment, Matt. I’ve managed to sort the living room so I can just about invite people in for a drink without cringing, but as for the rest of the house, including my bedroom…’ She groaned and briefly buried her head in her hands. ‘It looks like something out of a 1930s time warp. The wallpaper is peeling, the carpets are brown and probably growing fungus in places. The bathroom has cracked tiles, the shower should be renamed dribble because that’s all it does, and then there’s the mould, which I’ve tried to remove but remains stubbornly of the won’t-budge-despite-what-you-squirt-on-it variety. The place isn’t fit for overnight visitors, especially the type who drive ridiculously snazzy cars.’
He stared at her, bemused. ‘You think I care about any of that?’ He cupped her face in his hands. ‘Do you honestly believe I’ll see anything but you?’
Her eyes blinked, and when they looked back at him they glistened. ‘Crap, now you’re making me cry.’
He trailed his thumb under her lashes, capturing the tears. ‘You can come back to mine, you and Chewie, if that’s what you’d prefer. Or I’m happy, make that very happy, to take my life in my hands and stay with the mushrooms and unkillable mould.’
Her smile wobbled. ‘Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you try and take a dribble shower tomorrow morning and a tile falls on your head. Then you slip on the mould.’
He bent to kiss her, finding her lips soft and welcoming beneath his. ‘I’ll take it as a win if you and Chewie allow me to stay the night.’
Chewie barked, clearly hearing his name, and Lottie went to pat his head. ‘Matt is going to stay over,’ she told him. ‘So no funny business.’
Matt glanced down at his shoes and sent up a silent prayer that his brogues would survive the night.
As she gave him a brief tour a few minutes later, Matt realised she hadn’t been exaggerating. The house had bags of potential but was currently quite a way off realising it. Yet as he followed her up the rickety stairs, all he could see was the way her buttocks glided beneath her short summer skirt. The shapely legs.
When she opened the door to her bedroom, he couldn’t have told anyone what state the carpet was, or how busy the wallpaper. He could only gaze into her eyes and feel his heart go into freefall.
Hands moved to undress, to touch, to glide across heated skin, and as he eased her back onto the bed, as he sank into her, he knew this was no longer a bit of light fun, not for him.
‘Thank you for tonight,’ she said softly a long while later, her head on his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
He smiled against her hair. ‘You don’t have to thank me for taking you to bed.’
She elbowed his ribs. ‘I didn’t mean for the sex, though okay, that was pretty stellar.’
‘Only pretty stellar?’
‘Fine, it was unbelievably stellar.’
He chuckled, mollified. ‘Better.’
She shifted to lie on her front, eyes looking up at him. ‘I’m trying to be serious here. Thank you for what you did for Gira. The flowers, how you treated her. You gave Gira her dignity back.’
The shame he’d tried to push away all evening slithered back into his gut. Had Patricia been as twisted up over his late nights as Gira? Had she agonised over whether he was cheating on her? Had she discussed him with her friends?
Soft lips pressed against his chest. ‘Stop torturing yourself. You made mistakes, but you weren’t the only one. Gira chose to fight for Ryan. Patricia chose to betray you.’
Some of the weight lifted from his shoulders at her words. He would always carry guilt for the break-up of his marriage, but perhaps Lottie was right. Perhaps not all of the burden was his to bear.
His gaze found Lottie’s and as he saw her compassion, her fierce determination to defend him, he felt his chest swell.
‘I wasn’t expecting to find this, to find you,’ he whispered through the tightness of his throat.
Her expression softened and she leant up to kiss him. ‘Me neither.’
Once more he lost himself to the heat of her mouth, the lush plumpness of her lips. His last remaining thought was how he could stop himself falling in love with her.
And whether it was already too late.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Monday morning, and Lottie stood back and let Chewie jump into the back of Matt’s Ford transit. Only one year old, complete with Sat-Nav, it was like driving a Rolls-Royce compared to her bone-shaker.
She’d really got lucky. And she wasn’t only talking about the van.
‘Even you’re starting to like him, huh?’ Chewie stared at her from beneath his shaggy fringe and wagged his tail. ‘He kind of grows on you, doesn’t he?’
He was certainly growing on her. She’d bragged that she was an expert at light, yet her feelings felt anything but light as she recalled the weekend. What had he said? I wasn’t expecting to find this, to find you.
He’d taken the words right out of her mouth.
How wrong she’d been to worry about him seeing her house, to assume a man who wore a Rolex and Ralph Lauren polo shirts would turn his nose up at damp walls and mildew. She was used to men being straightforward; what you see is what you get. Matt, though, continued to surprise her. And God, to delight her.
She grinned as she recalled Saturday morning and his face when he’d seen her cooking bacon.
‘When was the last time you had a bacon butty?’ she’d asked as she’d pushed the plate towards him.
He’d stared down at the white-bread sandwich, grease dripping onto the plate. A healthy eater’s nightmare. ‘School.’
‘Okay.’ She’d shrugged and grabbed an apple from the bowl. ‘If you’d rather have this, go ahead. Your loss.’
He’d squared his shoulders, like he was about to tackle something horrendously difficult. ‘You made it for me. It would only be polite to eat it.’
She’d struggled to contain her laughter as she’d watched him stoically make his way through the butty. When he’d finished it and she’d asked him what he thought, he’d smiled. ‘I’m happy to eat bacon sandwiches every morning if it means eating with you.’
Her heart had gone into total freefall.
Then there had been Sunday morning when she’d felt the bed dip and Matt had slid in beside her, smelling of shower gel, his hair damp. ‘You’ve been for a run,’ she’d guessed. He’d murmured yes, then spooned against her, letting out a deep, contented sigh. When she’d asked why he was getting back into bed, she’d felt his smile against her nape. ‘I didn’t want to miss waking up with you.’
‘He’s such a charmer,’ she murmured to Chewie. ‘I don’t know how to defend myself against him.’
She was about to start the engine when her phone rang. Hoping it was Matt, she lunged for it, only to let it slip through her fingers when she saw who was calling.
‘Shit.’ He never phoned, only ever emailed or messaged. After scrabbling around on the floor, she snatched at the phone. ‘Henry?’
‘Hey, Goldilocks. How’s things?’
Emotion washed through her at the sound of his lazy drawl. ‘Good, thanks. Is everything okay?’
‘Everything is hunky dory.’ He paused and she could imagine him sitting back on his sofa, one leg crossed casually across his thigh, mouth smiling. ‘Have you got time to catch up with an old friend who happens to find himself back in England?’
‘Oh wow, of course.’ She wasn’t sure how she felt; excited, shocked. Numb. ‘Are you over here to see your parents?’
‘Well sure, I’m going to visit them but actually, I’m back for good.’ Lottie’s hand tightened on the phone as she tried to absorb his words. ‘I’ve got a job in London, working for The Times.’
‘That’s amazing. Congratulations.’ She remembered the young journalist who’d started life on the local gazette before heading off to LA where connections had secured him a job on the Daily News. This was yet another step up and she felt genuinely delighted for him.
‘Thanks, I’m pretty chuffed.’ He paused again, and this time his voice was softer. ‘I really want to see you, Lottie.’
Dazed, that’s how she felt, as if someone had knocked her on the head. Henry was in her past. She’d spent the last eighteen months coming to terms with that and was only now coming out the other side, enjoying life again. Enjoying it with Matt. She didn’t want all the old feelings for Henry stirred up again, complicating things. She’d moved on.
Yet this was Henry. A man she’d once loved. ‘I’d like to see you too.’
She heard his long exhalation over the phone. ‘Thank God for that. I was half afraid you’d say no. That you’d found someone else.’
An image of Matt’s face hovered in her mind and her heart twisted viciously. ‘I am seeing someone.’
‘Oh.’ She could hear both disappointment and … was it surprise? ‘How long has that been going on?’
Was it judgement? ‘It was your choice to move abroad,’ she reminded him tartly. ‘You left me.’
‘Yes, yes, I know. Shit, Lot, I didn’t mean you should still be pining away for me.’ He drew in a breath. ‘I guess I’m just gutted. And jealous as hell.’ There was a beat of silence. ‘Is it serious with this guy?’
It was the million-dollar question. ‘I don’t know.’
Another breath, followed by a rustle of clothing as she imagined him sitting up straighter, phone clamped to his ear. ‘Okay, I’m driving down to you today. We’ll grab dinner tonight. I’ll sleep on your couch.’
‘Whoa, hang on a minute.’ She felt like she was on a merry-go-round that was going faster and faster. She wanted to jump off, but was too disorientated to work out how. ‘Yes to dinner, but no to the couch.’
‘Come on, Lot, you’re not going to make me stay in a hotel, are you? We’re mates. Your boyfriend will just have to understand. Message me your address and I’ll be there around 6 p.m.’
He ended the call before she had a chance to disagree, or to tell him six o’clock might not be convenient.
He’s anxious to see you.
More confused than ever, Lottie pressed Call on the one number she knew she could rely on for honest, no-holds-barred advice.
‘A Monday morning call?’ Sally’s voice came on the phone. ‘That means either your weekend went spectacularly well, or spectacularly badly.’
Lottie leant forward, head resting on the steering wheel of the van she was borrowing from the guy she’d started to fall for. ‘It isn’t about the weekend.’ She went on to tell Sally about the call from the man she’d once been head over heels in love with.
‘Oh shitting heck.’ Lottie heard a shuffling sound in the background. ‘Hang on a minute, I need to get Freddie in his playpen so I can focus.’ There was a pause, then the cute sound of baby babble. ‘Okay, I’m sitting down now. Wow.’ She blew out a breath. ‘It’s raining men, huh?’
‘God, Sally, what do I do?’
‘Duh, you see Henry. Sounds like you won’t get much choice in the matter anyway. Typical of the guy,’ she added under her breath. Sally and Henry had got on, but there had always been an underlying niggle between them. ‘I presume you do actually want to see him?’
‘Of course I do.’ Henry had once been the most important person in her universe. ‘It’s just these last few months, spending time with Matt…’ She closed her eyes, picturing his face, those earnest brown eyes. ‘I can’t remember a time when I’ve been happier. I think … crap, Sally, I think I’m falling for him.’
Sall
y’s tone softened. ‘That’s not crap, Lottie, it’s good. I like him.’
‘But what about Henry? What if when I see him, all those feelings come back?’
‘Then maybe you’ll have a choice to make. But that’s a way down the road yet. All you’re doing tonight is having dinner with an old friend.’
‘You’re right.’ Lottie sat back up, feeling calmer. The call from Henry had blindsided her, but there was no reason to get all weird about it. It had been two years since Henry had left, it would be good to see him.
Once again she pictured Matt’s face and her chest tightened. The light, casual affair she’d wanted had felt like it had taken a different, deeper turn last weekend, for both of them. Their feelings were still so new though, and largely unspoken, the relationship in its infancy. She couldn’t help but wonder if Henry’s arrival was the worst possible timing for them.
Matt watched Amy fill up the sugar pourers as he helped her get the café ready for opening. Mondays were slow, but while nobody was in a big rush to buy books, there were a few elderly prom walkers who liked to dive into the café for a pot of tea after their stroll.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked after she’d sworn for the third time, once again spilling sugar over the table.
‘Sure.’
He sighed heavily and went to stand next to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. ‘Talk to me,’ he said softly. ‘Please. You never know, your big brother might be able to help.’
She snorted. ‘Right.’
He swallowed his hurt as she turned away and went to unscrew the lid of the next sugar pourer. That’s when he saw her hands shake. Silently he took the container from her and placed it on the table. ‘Is it Shaun?’ he asked quietly.
She gave him a teary-eyed glance. ‘How did you guess?’
‘I figured it was either him or me who’d upset you.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Selfishly I hoped it was Shaun.’
Her breath hitched and she sat down on the nearest chair. ‘He wouldn’t let me come back with him on Saturday night after the pub. Some excuse about having to get up early on Sunday. Then he never phoned and when I called him, it went to voicemail.’
The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5) Page 20
