Sunrise on the Coast: The perfect feel-good holiday romance (Island Romance Book 1)

by Lilac Mills

  She let his voice fade out as she concentrated on where she placed her feet and tried not to let the darkness beyond the torchlight frighten her. It was extremely disconcerting to think that if those batteries failed, they’d be in utter darkness, and anything could be lurking in these tunnels. Anything!

  To her surprise, though, once she had a grip on her totally rational fear, she found the experience utterly absorbing. Once again, Alex proved to be a great guide, explaining things to her and making everything sound incredibly interesting.

  There was one moment, however…

  ‘I’m going to turn the torch off in a second,’ he said. ‘You might have experienced what you think is total darkness in the past, but it’s nothing like you’re about to experience now. Don’t be frightened, I’ll hold your hand so you know I’m still here, but I want you to try to be as quiet as possible and let your ears and your nose take over. Ready?’

  Sophie gulped. No, she wasn’t ready for this, but she nodded anyway, even though she knew that if she told him she didn’t want him to turn the torch off, he would leave it on. She didn’t want him to think she was a wimp and afraid of the dark, even though she most definitely was. Normally darkness didn’t bother her, but the thought of being trapped down here with absolutely—

  ‘Eek!’ The light had gone out and they were immediately plunged into the most complete blackness Sophie could ever imagine.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked, and she felt his hand slip into hers and close around it, holding her in a firm grip.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, although she wasn’t; not really. This must be what it was like to be blind, she realised, lifting her free hand up to her face and seeing nothing. Eyes open as wide as they could possibly go, she strained to see something, anything, but the darkness was absolute.

  Heart hammering, she tried to be quiet as Alex had suggested, but all she could hear was her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

  She could smell him, though, she realised. His usual citrus aftershave. Soap too, and the washing powder she bought. She could smell another scent below them, and that was the scent of Alex himself. He smelt of the outdoors, of wide open spaces, of the sea. It was his own unique smell and it sent a wave of longing through her.

  She could feel him too. His hand held hers, warm and strong, and she absent-mindedly rubbed her thumb across the back of his, his skin feeling smooth to the touch. She wanted to let go and run her fingers up his arms, to caress the fine hairs that she knew were there.

  Then she noticed she could feel the heat emanating from him. Even if he hadn’t been holding her hand, she would have known he was there. Finally, the sound of him breathing softly could be heard and the tiny rustles of his clothing. For a moment, she was sure she could hear his heart beating.

  ‘I’m going to switch the torch back on now, so you may want to close your eyes for a second, so you aren’t blinded,’ he said quietly in her ear, and the sound of his voice made the skin on the back of her neck tingle. She knew his lips must be inches away from her ear, as his breath fanned her cheek, and she itched to turn her head and discover what they tasted like.

  Obediently she closed her eyes, just as he switched the torch on, and light flooded her eyelids in bursts of orange, red and yellow.

  Cautiously she opened them again to discover she was right – his lips were awfully close to her own. And she did exactly what her head was screaming at her not to do. She pushed her helmet back slightly, tilted her chin, closed her eyes again and waited for his kiss.

  It seemed a long time coming.

  His sharp intake of breath and the way he tightened his grip on her hand told her that he wasn’t going to pull away. His warm breath was soft on her cheek and the scent of him filled her completely until her senses swam and she felt giddy.

  All this, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

  At first, she wasn’t sure whether she was imagining it, because his lips were so light on hers, a feather-light touch, barely there. Her pulse soared and she parted her lips, tremors coursing through her.

  He needed no further encouragement and his mouth claimed hers, the kiss deepening as he let go of her hand and his arms came around her, pulling her into him, his helmet bumping against her forehead before he pushed it back.

  She went willingly, eagerly, tasting him, moulding herself against him, her heart swooping and her head spinning until she was utterly lost in him.

  It could have been one minute, it could have been an hour, before they broke apart. She’d lost all track of time. God, she’d lost all track of herself.

  Had she really kissed him so passionately, so ardently, the same way he’d kissed her?

  Cocooned in the darkness, with the torch only a tiny circle of light, the real world seemed very far away indeed. Light years away.

  Slowly she opened her eyes, her lips still tingling from their kiss, the scent of him still on her skin, his arms still encircling her, to find him gazing at her with an expression in his eyes she couldn’t read. She saw desire and hunger there, but she saw something else too. Was it sadness?

  Yes, that was probably it. He was already regretting kissing her and… But if that was true, why were those delectable eyes coming closer, and why could she feel his mouth on hers once more?

  Lost again, she surrendered to the undeniable feelings consuming her, and it was only later, when they emerged blinking into the early evening light, that she realised she’d be doing her own weeding and watering.

  And she found she didn’t mind, not one little bit.

  Chapter 23

  Despite the smile, despite her somersaulting heart and the butterflies dancing in her stomach, and despite knowing that if she had to live those moments over, she’d do exactly the same again, Sophie couldn’t help wondering if Alex had kissed her on purpose in order to win the bet. Not that it was a bet exactly, because she hadn’t wagered anything, and she hadn’t lost anything either, but she still wondered if he might have cheated.

  If he had, it was quite a gamble on his part, she acknowledged, because she could have just as easily rebuffed him and given him a piece of her mind.

  But she hadn’t. She’d practically thrown herself at him, and she wasn’t entirely sure who had made the first move anyway. She had a feeling it might have been her, with her closed eyes and her face lifted towards his in a blatant invitation to be kissed.

  And he’d certainly done that. Several times. And with a great deal of skill too. And ardour. Don’t forget the ardour. He’d wanted to kiss her as much as she’d wanted to kiss him. Six of one and half a dozen of the other, as her mum used to say.

  The atmosphere on the drive home was subdued, each of them lost in their thoughts. Sophie’s were mostly of the self-doubt and beating herself up variety. As usual, she had no idea what Alex was thinking, as he didn’t say very much and his expression was guarded. She hoped he wasn’t regretting what had happened and she prayed that his last couple of days at the villa wouldn’t be awkward.

  She desperately wanted to discuss it, yet she couldn’t work up enough courage to broach the subject. Then her thoughts led her to the conclusion that it didn’t matter anyway because his life was in Iceland and hers was… well… nowhere. On Tenerife for the time being, but after Hugo no longer needed her then it was probably going to be back in the UK, unless she made the decision to stay. Even that was easier said than done; she still didn’t know how she felt about leaving her family, and she had yet to find a job and somewhere to live, which would be hard enough in England where she could speak the language. Over here, it was an impossibility.

  To her relief, Hugo was up and about when they got back, oblivious to any awkwardness between her and his nephew, and she spent the time preparing the evening meal telling him what she’d seen and learnt, hopefully in a neutral tone of voice and without excessive references to Alex.

  Alex, for his part, had a quick shower, then retired to his room. In between chatting to Hugo, she caught the sound of hi
s voice and guessed he must be on the phone. She wondered who he was talking to. It could be anyone, but…

  It was only then, hearing his occasional murmur, that she considered the possibility that there might be someone anxiously awaiting his return to Iceland. Someone special. Someone who he was on the phone to right this very minute, keeping his voice low and intimate.

  Suddenly she felt sick. Had he been playing with her? Was she just a passing amusement to him?

  It would be so easy to do – she would be long gone by the time he returned, and who would know? Even if Alex’s girlfriend were to meet Hugo and Sophie’s name was mentioned, it would be purely in the context of employee, the woman who had been paid to look after him.

  The sound of the front door shutting as Alex left the villa made her jump, and she glanced up from chopping an onion to find Hugo studying her.

  ‘It’s the onion,’ she said unnecessarily as she used the back of her hand to dash away the tears which had gathered in the corner of her eye and were threatening to spill over. Hugo uttered a noncommittal grunt, which she chose to take for agreement. Because what else could those tears be but a reaction to her butchering of the poor onion on the chopping board?

  ‘I am happy you enjoyed your afternoon,’ he said after a while. ‘It is many years since I walked on El Teide.’

  ‘Now that you’ve had your hip done…’ she began, but Hugo shook his head.

  ‘My days of climbing up that mountain are over. I am too old, too tired.’ He brightened. ‘I bet Alejandro told you the science and did not tell you the story of the true heart of the volcano. Do you want to hear it?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ Anything to take her mind off Alex, the phone call and whether he’d return to join them for dinner.

  ‘A people called the Guanches lived on these islands before my ancestors came here,’ Hugo began. ‘They said the volcano held up the sky. They also said El Teide was the way to the world below… I am not sure how you say it…?’

  ‘Hell?’ Sophie offered, fascinated.

  He shook his head. ‘That’s not it.’

  ‘The underworld?’

  ‘Sí, the underworld. That is the word. OK, long ago Guayota, the devil, locked Magec, the god of light and the sun, inside Teide, and this made the world turn to night. There was no sun, no light, and the Guanches were afraid there would never be another day. They prayed to the god of gods, Achamán, to bring the light back, and so Achamán, he fought Guayota. Achamán threw the devil into the volcano and put a… what do you call that?’ He pointed to a bottle of wine on the counter.

  ‘Wine?’

  ‘No, the top. It stops the wine from coming out.’

  ‘A cork?’

  ‘Yes, a cork. He let Magec out and put a cork – not a real one, but one made of rock – in the top of the crater to keep Guayota in. The light came back to the land, and from then on, the Guanches lit big fires outside when the volcano erupted, to scare Guayota and keep him in the underworld. It makes sense, no? The world was dark because of an eruption and the old people thought it was because of the devil. I love this story. It is better than the science. Science is so cold; there is no heart to it.’

  Oh, I don’t know about that, Sophie thought, recalling Alex’s passion for his subject and his passion when he kissed her.

  ‘Alejandro, he does have a heart, but he keeps it deep inside here.’ He thumped his chest. ‘Like Guayota, hidden from the world. I had thought…’

  Despite her better judgement, she felt compelled to ask. ‘What?’

  ‘That you might set his heart free. I have seen the way he looks at you.’

  ‘You have?’ She gulped and her knees felt a bit wobbly.

  ‘Sí, I have.’

  ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed,’ she replied. ‘You’re probably imagining it.’

  ‘Perhaps yes, perhaps no.’ He sighed. ‘Ignore me. I am an old man. I make mistakes.’

  ‘You’re not that old,’ she pointed out and he smiled sadly at her. ‘Thank you for the story, it’s definitely more romantic than magma chambers.’ Then, feeling the need for some fresh air to clear her head, she announced that she was going to water the vegetable patch and, leaving Hugo to keep an eye on dinner, she headed outside.

  She loved the terrace with its wonderful views, but this little area of garden was her peaceful place. Under her care the vegetable patch was thriving. It took a lot of work, admittedly, because not many of the things that she grew liked being so near to the sea, and she had to water both the plants themselves and the soil in order to dilute the salt from the spray caused by the waves. It was a daily task and one she found quite therapeutic.

  Not this evening, though, as her thoughts churned in her head. Hugo must be mistaken. Alex did not look at her in that way. He hardly looked at her at all.

  What about those kisses? a treacherous voice asked, and she shook her head to get rid of it. They were a mistake, an accident. All of them? A one-off, she said to herself. Never to be repeated. People kissed all the time without it having to mean anything.

  It meant something to you, her heart insisted, and her brain crossly told it to shut up.

  Eventually, after she’d watered everything in sight, twice, she turned off the tap, picked a sprig of parsley and went back inside.

  Then she spent the rest of the evening and long into the night waiting for Alex to come home and feeling incredibly annoyed for letting herself get into this position. The sooner he left the villa, the better, as far as she was concerned, and she could try to forget those kisses had ever happened.

  Chapter 24

  ‘I’m popping to Mrs Tiggywinkle’s while you’re at the hospital,’ Sophie called to the villa in general. ‘Do you want anything?’

  ‘You English, you do a lot of “popping”,’ Hugo teased, coming into the hall, and she noticed that he wasn’t using his walking stick.

  ‘You’d better take your stick with you to the hospital,’ she advised, avoiding Alex’s eye as he joined them, hovering behind his uncle. ‘They might tell you that you have to keep using it for a while.’ She moved towards him and kissed his whiskery cheek. ‘Good luck, not that you’ll need it. You’re doing brilliantly.’

  Hugo pulled a face, but she could tell he was pleased.

  ‘Right, I’m off. I’m taking Paco, in case you get back before me and wonder where he is.’

  ‘It doesn’t take that long to walk to Playa de la Arena,’ she heard Alex mutter, but chose to ignore it.

  If she wanted to stop off somewhere for a pastry and a coffee, then she bloody well would, and she didn’t have to answer to Alex either. Although she actually didn’t intend to be too long, because she didn’t want to leave Hugo on his own for any length of time in case Alex had plans for after the hospital appointment.

  It was another glorious day (when wasn’t it?) and she basked in the feel of the warm sun on her back and the salty tang in the air as she strolled along the path. The sea was on her left, the neglected fields on her right, and she couldn’t help staring at them as she walked past. It was a pity something couldn’t be done about them – and she didn’t mean building a whopping great hotel on them. If those walls were taken down, and the dying plants removed, then the land could perhaps be allowed to return to nature. Or, and here was an idea, the whole area could be landscaped like the stretch of coast where Alcalá began. The authorities had made a start with the paved coastal path, but they could take it one step further and do something with the land; if they were willing to buy it, which they probably weren’t. And if they had the funds, which they probably didn’t.

  Thinking of funds led her to think about Hugo’s predicament. She knew he couldn’t be receiving any income from the banana fields, and she wondered if he was living off his savings. Or maybe a pension – he was old enough to have one.

  Once again she was filled with dread and incredible sadness at the thought of the villa being torn down and replaced by a fancy bar to service the new beach that no
doubt would be constructed once that Russian conglomerate got their greedy hands on the property.

  She imagined a bear of a man, smoking a cigar and speaking with a heavy Russian accent, as the face of this nameless organisation, and she shuddered.

  ‘Why so glum?’ Dominic asked as she stepped into Mrs Tiggywinkle’s.

  Although she’d visited the shop several times since she’d had lunch with him, she hadn’t seen him in there. ‘Oh, this and that,’ she said. ‘Long time, no see.’

  She was struck once more by just how good-looking he was, with his open expression, clear blue eyes and longish hair, which was bleached by the sun and falling over his forehead. He was dressed in a T-shirt with a wave emblazoned on the front, a pair of navy shorts and sliders on his feet, looking every inch the surfer dude.

  ‘Yes, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?’ he agreed.

  ‘I’ve listened to your show a few times.’

  His face lit up. ‘You have?’

  ‘Yep, so I feel as if you’ve been in my kitchen on a regular basis.’

  ‘I wish I had been,’ he said, giving her a meaningful look.

  ‘Are you flirting with me, Dominic Tiggywinkle?’ she demanded, and he threw his head back and laughed.

  ‘Yes, and I’m not ashamed of it either,’ he replied. ‘I was going to give you a call, but I remembered you said you’d be busy looking after Hugo. How is he?’

  ‘Doing really well, thanks. He’s walking without a stick now, although I do think it might be a bit too soon.’

  ‘That’s great news. Does it mean you’ll have some free time for that surfing lesson?’

  ‘Not just yet, but I could manage a coffee.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘I’m free now, but I can see you’re working.’

  ‘Actually, Mum and Dad have just arrived back from the wholesalers, so if you give me ten minutes to hand over the reins, I’ll be with you.’

  ‘Great. I’ve got a spot of shopping to do while I wait.’ She wandered up and down the little aisles, picking up a few items and popping them into her basket. Robinson’s marmalade, yum; she’d have that on toast in the morning. And she added Heinz baked beans to the basket too. Hugo didn’t see the attraction, but she loved them with a jacket potato and some cheese. Then there was real honest-to-goodness British chocolate, which she simply couldn’t live without. Spanish chocolate was lacking somehow, and didn’t taste half as good. She put a couple of bars in the basket and went to the counter to pay.