by Kitty Wilson
Rosy finally stopped speaking as she realized that Matt, who had done a beautiful job of listening and not interrupting, was coming to a halt.
It was dark outside and there was a patter of rain on the car roof, but there in front of her was the long path to the orangery, lit by the twinkle of candles. She squinted but it was hard to see precisely; it looked like tea lights had been laid out in jam jars to illuminate the path. One or two were flickering out as the rain grew stronger and drops caught and extinguished the odd flame. The inside of the orangery was equally illuminated, those candles protected from the rain and casting out a glow of welcome.
Rosy’s breath caught in her throat as she realized this was Matt’s surprise, and she turned to him as he switched the engine off.
‘Rosy, there is so much I need to say about what you’ve just told me, I knew there was something, but this, this… well it must have been so…’
‘Shhh, please.’ Rosy’s eyes widened in her best puppy-dog look. ‘I know we’ll need to talk about it some more, but for tonight, just tonight can we forget it now, and accept my apology and know I’m not completely mad. I just have a little bit of baggage which, as sure as dammit, I’m not going to let influence this chance we’ve got any more.’
‘So we’ve got a chance? That’s good to hear.’
‘Well, we might not if you don’t stop talking and take me in the orangery.’
‘Take you in the orangery? Well, I’d only planned a movie night, but if you insist!’
‘You’re a fool!’ Rosy couldn’t help but giggle as she raised her hand to give him a friendly punch on the arm.
The rain was now coming down with the thud, thud, thud of an entire cavalry’s hooves on the roof, and only five candles along the path had escaped its onslaught.
Matt caught Rosy’s arm before it could land on her target and with his hand on her wrist he spun around in his seat to face her. ‘It’s pretty vicious out there, listen to it. And it’s a bit of a walk to get to the orangery – perhaps we should stay in the car until it passes.’
‘I’m quite keen for the movie night you’ve planned but that does sound like it’s about to come through the roof. We could always stay in the car and make out like teenagers.’
‘Oh, I like the sound of that, but you know what, we only get one first kiss…’
‘Are you telling me you forgot that we had a first kiss?’
‘Oh no, never. And I’d thought of loads of big romantic gestures to get us to the next one, like plant you a whole flowerbed as a declaration or get your medieval troubadour friends to do something as an extension to “Greensleeves”, make you see how I feel, but the truth is that this next one, this will be a first kiss where we’ll have cleared up all the misunderstandings, like when I thought you were dating Chase because of all the red cardboard hearts surrounding you on the floor and then you stayed at his house…’
‘You what? That’s hilarious.’
‘Hilarious? Harsh! But not the point.’ They were slowly edging together, eyes now locked and mouths virtually whispering soft breaths directly into the other’s as they spoke. ‘The point is that you, Rosy, are not just the sexiest women I know, you’re the most honourable, tenacious, well, every quality there is and of course I want to kiss you right now, strip you naked and tumble into the back seat but I also want to wake up with you tomorrow and the next day and the next. I want you to understand before we go any further that this is important to me, I want you to understand that I don’t just want a quick tumble, I want lots of them, lots and lots. I want us to give this thing between us a shot. I want you to know now how committed I am, I don’t want to scare you, obviously take one day at a time, but for me I want this to be long haul and I don’t ever want the sort of misunderstandings that have occurred between us to happen again. Straight-talking from here on in. No embarrassment, we just say what needs to be said. Are you in agreement?’
Stunned by this, Rosy nodded. Her confession had been bold but this was real lifetime stuff. Such an admission took guts; she wouldn’t have been strong enough to vocalize all this, to lay herself totally open about what she wanted, what she hoped for. He was a good man, and he wanted her and she could feel herself pulsing all over, wanting that tumbling to start right now.
‘Is that a yes? Give this a shot long-term? No secrets or worries that we don’t share?’
‘Yes! Yes, yes, yes!’
‘Excellent, and as such our first kiss with this said needs to be romantic, memorable, something we can remember and retell with a smile and the truth is when I think romance I don’t think of gear sticks and seatbelts and…’
Rosy moved her hand across her body, down towards her seat belt release, and clicking it she held his eyes and huskily murmured right next to his mouth, so low and soft that it would have been inaudible if it weren’t for their physical closeness, as the rain cantering across the roof intensified, ‘You’re right, I agree, let’s make it memorable…’ And then with a quirk of her lips and her heart hammering out of her chest she added, ‘So… race you!’
She grabbed the handle and thrust the car door open, giggling as she hurtled down the path towards the candlelit orangery, with Matt seconds behind her.
The noise of the rain was broken by their laughter as they both ran full pelt towards the glass house, Matt easily catching her and grabbing her hand as they crashed through the door together.
Rosy saw that not only was the whole place lit by tea lights, but that he had cleared the tables back, hung a projector, somehow sourced and dragged a cosy velvet two-seater sofa in front of it and set up a picnic of Wotsits, pink wafers and Dairylea. Amongst the snacks was an orchid, tall and slim with a smattering of pink flushed petals in a terracotta pot with a scroll, like the very first one she had received, tucked inside it.
Standing there, she felt her breath coming hard and fast, the rain trickling down from her hair, now stuck to her head, with drops rolling down her face, her nose and her eyelashes. Yet the inside of the orangery was warm, the unseasonable warmth of the last few days combined with the mugginess of the rain. The smell that summer usually conjured, of languid days and passion-filled nights, of couples across the years, laughing, playing, loving. She could feel Matt’s hands on her shoulders as he stood behind her, so close that she could feel the whole of him pushed against her and making her feel both strong and really quite light-headed. He had done of all this for her and before he had heard her explanations.
‘I think I might enjoy movie night.’ She turned as she whispered, but carefully, so as to ensure they remained pressed together, so that she didn’t lose the beat of his heart against her body, solid, pulsing, ready and so damn sexy, no millimetre of space allowed between them. ‘But I think to enjoy it fully, I might need to get out of these very wet clothes.’
Catching a drop from the side of her cheek, Matt looked down at her upturned face and slipped the green strap from her shoulder, sliding his other hand into the small of her back.
‘That is, I think, one of your better ideas…’ And he leant down and gently, gently touched his lips to hers, inside a glass house strewn with lights, a witness to lovers for centuries.
Acknowledgements
I can’t believe I get to write acknowledgements.
A huge thank you to the lovely Hayley Steed, agent extraordinaire, and the wonderful team at Canelo, particularly Hannah Todd and Louise Cullen who have been an absolute joy to work with.
I also have to mention the Romantic Novelists Association whose constant support and encouragement must make it one of the best professional associations in the world. I’ve made so many amazing friends within the RNA but would particularly like to thank Nicky for being my rock and Margaret for being my Oracle. You are both marvels.
And of course, Jack and Katharine - you are little toads but no-one makes me laugh like you do, Namdi – practically perfect in every way (and I shall deny I said that) and my Mum and Dad for their unwavering faith. Love you all
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First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © Kitty Wilson, 2018
The moral right of Kitty Wilson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781788631167
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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