Snowflakes at Lavender Bay

by Sarah Bennett

  She had a meeting with a mortgage broker next week and was trying to be confident about her chances of success. With her dad planning to give her half the proceeds of the sale, her intention was to apply for a mortgage worth about seventy per cent of her best guess of the market value for the property. It was a bit of a shot in the dark, given how tight-lipped Mick was being over the deal he’d struck, but she hoped it would give her enough money to compensate him and have a little bit left over to invest in her plans. Trying to ignore the little voice in her head telling her she was wasting her time, she turned her attention back to the spreadsheet she was working on.

  Lost in a sea of numbers, the sharp snick of the door latch opening took her by surprise. Hand over her racing heart, she swivelled in the captain’s chair to face the door as a rosy-cheeked Owen let himself in. He stopped dead. ‘Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here.’

  Feeling like an intruder, she unhooked her legs from inside her baggy jumper and leaped up. ‘Sorry, I thought you were going to be busy at Subterranean all day.’

  After shutting the door against the brutal wind outside, Owen sank onto the edge of the bed. ‘No need to be sorry, we’ve done as much as we can do until the seating arrives, so I thought I’d get some paperwork sorted.’ He glanced at the laptop behind her. ‘Looks like I’m not the only one.’

  Needing to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks, Libby tucked her nose into the loose neck of her jumper as she sank down in the old captain’s chair beside the desk. ‘Just fiddling around with a few ideas, nothing important.’ She felt stupid for not just telling him the truth, but she was still worried he’d pull some white knight act and offer to do something ridiculous like buy the shop.

  Her tummy did a funny twist. Perhaps he’d just shrug, tell her it was time to move on, maybe even use it as a way to persuade her to follow him to London. If he was even still thinking of them in that kind of way. She just didn’t know.

  Their heartfelt declarations to each other after Noah’s accident on the beach hadn’t moved things forward in the way she’d hoped, and she wondered if Owen was experiencing the same doubts now plaguing her. They’d fallen into this semi-casual routine, snatching a few hours here and there together, and he’d still given her no firm indication of his mid- to long-term plans.

  Once the last of the fit-out works were completed and the restaurant was up and running, there would be no need for him to spend so much time in the bay. He still had his business in London to run, and though she’d been sincere in her declaration they’d work things out, in the cold light of day she just couldn’t see how. His life was there, hers was here.

  Perhaps it was time to stop pretending and accept the fact theirs was a romance with a limited shelf life. A delicious, decadent treat to be savoured and enjoyed, something they could both look back on with fondness. She swallowed a sigh. That might be possible for him, but not for her now she’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with him.

  ‘A penny for them.’

  Blinking, she realised she’d just been sitting there staring at him like a gormless twit. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

  ‘Not anywhere nice from the look on your face.’ He moved from the bed to squat beside her, his broad palm engulfing one of her knees. ‘What’s the matter, Libs? You look as rubbish as I feel.’

  Uncurling herself from the chair, she slipped down into his lap, curling her arms around his neck. ‘Nothing, really. I’ve just got a few things I need to sort through.’ Tilting her head back, she petted his cheek, noted the grim tightness around his eyes and mouth. ‘Never mind me, are you okay?’

  His brows drew closer together. ‘I don’t like it when you put me off like that.’ She opened her mouth to respond, but he pressed his thumb down to stop her. ‘Don’t mind me, I’m in a shitty mood and looking for a fight where there’s not one to be had. I thought I might have a lead on my mother, but it didn’t pan out.’

  ‘Oh, Owen, I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?’

  He shook his head. ‘Nothing to talk about, really, just me jumping the gun. I thought it didn’t matter, that I’d put the idea of looking for her behind me. It shouldn’t matter this much. I hate that it matters this much.’

  The raw pain in his voice cut her like a knife. Reaching to cup his face, she tried to stroke some of the tension from his jawline with her thumbs. ‘Tell me what I can do to help.’

  ‘Distract me.’ His lips closed over hers to give her one of those slow, teasing kisses which sent her pulse fluttering and all thoughts flying from her head other than the beating need to be with him, under him, around him. She knew they should stop, that they were both using sex as an avoidance technique, but she just wanted to escape for a little while.

  Owen eased back, heat and laughter sparkling in his eyes. ‘If this was a romance movie, I’d perform some feat of acrobatics and be able to stand up with you in my arms and carry you over to the bed.’

  Giggling, she pressed their foreheads together. ‘It’s all about equality these days, so maybe I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you instead.’

  His lips found her ear, sending delicious shivers through her which had nothing to do with the chilled air in the hut. ‘Or we could stay right here.’

  ‘Mmm, that sounds like a much better idea.’

  With lots of pauses for kisses and caresses which warmed her blood and sent her senses spiralling, they managed to divest each other of their jeans and underwear. Owen’s hands snaked beneath her jumper to cup her breasts. ‘I love how you fit me,’ he murmured against her throat. ‘Like your body was moulded exactly for my hands.’

  Sighing into his touch, Libby let her head fall back as she let Owen chase all her worries away in a rush of heat and tenderness. Whatever might be wrong in her life, being here with him like this worked. There was no effort to it, no hesitation anymore after so many moments spent together learning the patterns and rhythms of each other’s bodies.

  A partnership, he’d said, and in her head she added another word—lovers. She’d shared a bed with men before, but Owen was her first lover. The first to put her pleasure before his own, as she did for him, together building something beautiful, and breathtaking, and right.

  Head on his shoulder, hips still locked around his, Libby tried to catch her breath. Owen’s hand played over the outside of her thigh raising a trail of goose bumps in his wake. A tiny aftershock rippled through her, everything still sensitised until even the light dance of his fingers felt like too much. Another shiver, a third, and she lifted her head as it slowly dawned on her that it was now the cold sinking into her bones rather than anything else causing them. Reality hit in a wave of discomfort, from the ache of her knees pressed into the wooden floor beneath them to another blast of wind sneaking through a gap in the boards of the wall behind her. She shifted, causing Owen to stir and they staggered up to crawl under the mountain of quilts on the bed.

  ‘I’ll be glad when we don’t have to do this anymore,’ she said as she snuggled into his side.

  Propping himself on one elbow, Owen raised a quizzical brow. ‘That’s not exactly a vote of confidence.’

  With a laugh, she reached out to cup his cheek. ‘Don’t worry, it wasn’t a critique on your performance, just the location. Dad’s going away for a few weeks to see my aunt and uncle, so I’ll have the place to myself.’

  Owen’s eyes lit up. ‘Are you trying to seduce me with promises of all this and central heating?’

  ‘Is it working?’

  His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom. ‘Oh, yes.’

  Little bubbles of excitement filled her. It wasn’t just the thought of getting to spend a whole night with him, it was all the other stuff that usually went with a relationship. They’d be able to curl up on the sofa and watch rubbish on the television or sit at the kitchen table and share a bite of supper as they talked about their days. ‘I could cook you a proper meal, no more picnics and takeaways.’

  Settling o
nto his back, Owen tucked her in closer to his side. ‘Or, I can cook for you. As long as you like either spaghetti Bolognaise, chicken curry or bacon sandwiches because that’s the extent of my kitchen repertoire.’

  ‘Tell me again why you’re getting involved in the restaurant business?’ She was teasing, and he picked up the lightness in her question from the grin on her face.

  ‘I’m in it for the money and the girls.’ Turning his head, he claimed a kiss. ‘Sam’s invited us round to the flat for dinner tonight, if you fancy it? He was going to give Eliza a call, see if her and Jack are free.’

  The six of them together sounded good. More than good, it sounded like they were a real couple. It was the kind of thing she, Beth and Eliza had dreamed of when they were young, before life had taken two of them away. They were back together, finally fulfilling those girlish plans. ‘It sounds great. I’ll have a word with dad, but I’m sure he can spare me.’ Things were winding down in the shop. Now the tourists had gone home they were back to relying on the locals for trade, so it didn’t take two of them to manage an evening shift. He’d be more than happy to give her a night off before he left her to handle everything on her own. Probably be glad to escape the horrible tension that had built between them.

  If she could get some joy from the broker, maybe she should seize the initiative and make a start on the conversion works whilst her dad was away. They often closed for a few weeks before Christmas to deep clean the shop and carry out all the maintenance jobs they’d put off during their busy time. If she could show her dad something tangible, surely he’d see how serious she was about making a go of it. Until the moment he handed over the keys, there was still a chance to change his mind. She had to hold on to that belief.

  ‘Come in, come in, it’s so good to see you.’ Beth met them at the back door of the emporium, engulfing Libby in a huge hug.

  Laughing, Libby squeezed her back. ‘You saw me yesterday, silly.’ Releasing Beth, she edged to one side to give Owen room to bend down and peck a kiss to Beth’s cheek.

  ‘I brought wine, as instructed.’ He held up the bottles held in each hand.

  ‘See, I knew there was a reason I liked you,’ Beth teased. She stretched her left hand out to take one of the bottles and that was when Libby saw it.

  ‘Oh. My. God. What is that on your finger?’

  The glittering band was almost eclipsed by the sparkle in Beth’s eyes. ‘It’s just a ring.’

  ‘Just a ring?’ Their eyes met and suddenly they were clutching each other and shrieking at the tops of their voices. Tears stung the back of Libby’s eyes as she grabbed Beth’s hand for a better look. ‘It’s beautiful, and perfect for you.’ Instead of a central gemstone, a delicate pearl nestled in a filigree flower studded with diamonds. Unique and stylish, it was exactly the thing her friend would’ve chosen for herself. ‘The boy done good. I suppose you’ll have to keep him now.’

  Blinking tears off her lashes, Beth giggled. ‘I suppose I will. Come on up, Sam’s banished me from the kitchen, so I was starting to get lonely.’

  They were just stepping over the threshold when the back gate swung open to admit Eliza and Jack. In a matter of moments, they were screaming and crying again as Beth flashed her ring at Eliza.

  ‘I think they might be like this for a while,’ Libby heard Owen say to Jack. ‘Maybe we should leave them to it.’

  ‘Good idea.’ The two men edged their way around their group hug and wandered upstairs to the flat Beth and Sam now shared.

  ‘Right, now they’ve gone you must tell us everything,’ Eliza said as she made enough room in their huddle to lift Beth’s hand to study the ring. ‘Oh, gosh, it’s perfect.’

  Libby nodded. ‘I said exactly the same thing. I assumed you must have had something to do with your brother’s sudden outbreak of good taste, and was going to yell at you later for not letting me in on the secret.’

  With a laugh, Eliza shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with me. Somehow my lug head brother managed to get this right all on his own.’ She gave Beth’s hand a little shake. ‘Come on, spill the beans.’

  Beth blushed. ‘He asked me this morning. Well, asked might be stretching the truth. He’d put the ring box on the bathroom sink before we went to bed last night. Normally he’s up and about first thing so he can get out for a run, but this morning he was just lounging around in bed. I couldn’t work out what was going on until I walked into the bathroom and saw the box. My hands were shaking so badly, I nearly dropped the ring down the plughole!’

  ‘Well, he would’ve been able to impress you with his plumbing skills—that is how he won your heart,’ Libby said with a grin. Not long after Beth had inherited the emporium and the flat above it, she’d had a near disaster with the kitchen sink and Sam had happened to turn up just in time to save the day.

  ‘He certainly has his uses.’ The expression on Beth’s face was so saucy, Libby couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

  Eliza pulled a face. ‘Oh, yuk! That’s my brother, remember? Come on, let’s get out of this wind and get some wine open so I can wash that image out of my head.’

  They found the three men gathered on the landing outside the kitchen door, clinking bottles of beer together. ‘If you’d given me a proper hint, I’d have brought some champagne,’ Owen was saying. ‘And you were so casual about the dinner invitation, we nearly didn’t bother.’

  Sam took a quick mouthful of his beer, his eyes fixed on Beth. ‘My fiancée made me promise not to breathe a word about it.’

  Damn, if Libby was ever on the receiving end of a look like the one he was giving Beth, she’d likely melt into a puddle of goo. She glanced at Beth, who was looking ready to swoon, or grab Sam by the hand and drag him off to the bedroom. Raising her hand, Libby waved it between the two of them. ‘That’s enough of that, thank you very much. I’m only here because I was promised food.’

  Sam raised his beer to his brow in a little salute. ‘Yes, ma’am. Owen, do you want to open one of those bottles and pour a drink for our ladies?’ Our ladies. A throwaway comment, but it gave Libby a funny little feeling in her stomach. She caught Owen’s gaze, and oh, boy, goo didn’t even begin to describe it. There was a seriousness to his expression, a promise in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. Blushing, she broke the eye contact before she did something stupid like ask him when it might be their turn. It was too much, and way too soon for her to even be thinking like that.

  Libby allowed the others to usher her into the living room, grateful to escape. She soon found herself perched on the arm of the sofa, as Beth and Eliza chattered a mile a minute about possible dates for the wedding. When Owen approached with a glass of wine for her, she took it with a brief smile and hoped he wouldn’t notice she’d deliberately placed herself in a position where he couldn’t sit beside her. He trailed his fingers down her arm in a soft caress before circling back around the room to lean against the wall where Jack had positioned himself.

  The empty armchair seemed to mock her. Positioned at a right-angle to the opposite end of the two-seater sofa, there was no practical reason for her not to be sitting in it. Whenever they had a girls’ night, though the order they sat in might change, the three of them always sprawled across that corner of the room. Telling herself she just wanted to keep close to Beth, Libby draped a casual arm around her friend’s shoulders and leaned down to break into the wedding conversation. ‘I’m not being a bridesmaid unless my dress has at least four layers of ruffles.’

  ‘And puff sleeves!’ Eliza chimed in. Within moments they were shrieking with laughter over an internet search Beth had typed into her phone.

  ‘Ooh, tartan!’ Beth said, before heaving a mock-sad sigh. ‘If only one or other of us had any kind of Scottish roots.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like that’s stopped any of this lot. I like the idea, I could dye my hair to match.’ Eliza choked on a mouthful of wine she’d been taking in an unfortunate bit of timing as Libby spoke. Jack was beside her in an inst
ant, only allowing her to wave him off after he’d rubbed a soothing hand up and down Eliza’s back.

  A waft of delicious spices preceded Sam’s entrance into the room bearing a platter covered in hors d’oeuvres. Bending at the waist, he placed them down on the coffee table beside a stack of small side plates already neatly covered in cocktail napkins.

  Libby crowded forward along with everyone else, her eyes dancing with delight over the selection of delicately furled smoked salmon bites, butter-soft pastry parcels and cocktail sticks skewering olives, feta cheese and prosciutto. It was hard to know where to start. As she leant forward to snag a plate from the stack the room started to swim before her eyes. Sparkling lights danced across her vision, and she had a vague impression of Owen shouting her name as the Wurlitzer in her head stopped spinning and everything went black.

  Chapter 17

  Bright. That was the first message her brain sent her even before she’d opened her eyes. Blinding light stabbed at her irises, and she clamped her lids down with a wince. Why was someone shining a torch at her?

  ‘Libs?’ Beth’s voice came from somewhere to her right, and she rolled her head towards the sound, regretting it instantly as the queasy feeling in her stomach kicked into overdrive.

  ‘Feel sick,’ she managed to get out before a strong arm was hooked behind her and she emptied the meagre contents of her stomach into a cardboard tray shoved in front of her in the nick of time. Shuddering against the bitter taste in her mouth, Libby risked a glance through her tangled fringe to see her worst fear realised as her eyes met Owen’s worried gaze. Great, just great; such a glamorous look puking your guts up in front of your incredibly sexy boyfriend. A hot flush rippled through her and she swallowed hard against another bout of nausea. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry about.’ He eased her back against a pile of hard square pillows before putting the tray somewhere out of her line of sight. ‘How are you feeling?’