‘I know that’s what you thought you were doing, but I’m just saying...’ Melinda’s eyes held hers, and then her face changed, softening. ‘Joel thinks you’re enough.’
‘Oh!’ Her heart dipped. ‘No. I don’t think...’ She drew her hair over her shoulder, smoothing it down for something to do.
‘It’s plain to see.’ Melinda smiled. ‘You only have to look in his eyes.’
Looking into Joel’s eyes, losing herself in all that light was the one thing she couldn’t do. Not any more. She pressed her lips together. ‘We’re just friends.’
‘Does he know that?’ Melinda’s eyes narrowed. ‘I mean, the last time we spoke you were in a fair old swoon about his kiss—’
‘I know.’ She looked away, neck prickling. That first kiss seemed light years away. So much had happened since then—too much—and now her heart was paying the price. She swallowed hard, meeting Melinda’s gaze. ‘There’s no future in it.’
‘How do you know that?’
She licked her lips. ‘Because he was jilted at the altar—effectively—and he’s all over the place about that.’ A choking sadness swelled in her throat. ‘He’s not ready for a relationship and I’m not either. He’s lovely—really lovely—and if circumstances were different...but we’re both on the rebound.’ She swallowed hard. ‘I need to be sensible now, cool things off because he’s leaving soon and...’
My heart is breaking already.
Melinda’s lips pursed. ‘Well, if that’s the way you feel, you should tell him.’
‘I will...’ She bit her lip. ‘Not now, but...soon.’
Melinda shook her head a little, sighing, and then she looked over towards the raised deck of the bright green, clapboard beach bar. ‘Look! Anton’s about to start!’
She followed Melinda’s gaze. Sure enough, Anton and his stilt dancers were launching themselves upwards, walking jerkily in the soft sand, their long, red satin trousers rippling, their white satin shirts and red waistcoats glowing in the sinking sun. There were eight dancers, three young women, five young men, all laughing as they helped each other with last-minute costume adjustments. The sound system barked and blared, then started blasting out a lively Soca beat.
Melinda made to walk back. ‘Are you coming?’
She nodded. ‘I’ll be along in a moment.’
Melinda squeezed her arm. ‘Honey, stop thinking so hard. Things usually have a way of working themselves out.’
She forced out a thin smile. ‘I know. Go with the flow, right!’
She felt her smile fading as Melinda picked her way back along the beach. It was all very well Melinda telling her not to think, but not thinking—going with the flow—was what had got her into this fling situation in the first place, and just believing that things always worked out in the end didn’t mean they would.
Tom was proof of that, although, miracle of miracles, he had emailed back. Rachel’s parents were stepping up. They were going to buy her out of Blythe’s, so she’d be solvent by the time she got back to England. It was what she’d wanted. It meant she could start thinking about the future... Café Hygge. If only she could feel more enthusiastic about it. She swallowed hard, biting her lips. The place in Salton had looked promising. It was definitely something to think about...
Joel! She drew a long breath, looking across the beach, past the ornate braziers fashioned from ancient marker buoys, past the dancers who were lining up to start, to the deck of the bar. He was talking to someone, a beer bottle in one hand, his other hand pressed to the back of his neck. The hand-to-neck thing was what he did when he was unsure of himself. Somehow, she knew that about him, just as she knew every trick of his mouth, and all the shades of light in his eyes.
Guilt ached through her veins. Joel wasn’t a party person, but he’d come to be with her and she’d left him to his own devices all afternoon, and now his hand was clamped to his neck because he wasn’t at ease. Tears prickled behind her eyes. It wasn’t fair, she wasn’t being fair. Dodging his arms, avoiding him all afternoon was cruel and, whatever she was, she wasn’t that. She couldn’t put it off another minute. She needed to tell him it was over.
* * *
Joel leaned his forearms on the rail, dangling his beer bottle. He was glad the show was in full swing. It meant no more making conversation with yet another person he would never meet again. He sighed. On the beach, Anton was bending backwards at a near impossible ninety degrees, wheeling his arms around, pulling a theatrical I might fall face. His agility was incredible. That limbo move would have been difficult enough on the ground, never mind doing it on six-foot-high stilts!
One after the other, the dancers were leaning back too, spinning their arms, then they all hopped upright together and sidestepped across the hard-packed sand before pulling one leg behind themselves so that their stilts were horizontal. After that, the moves kept coming...crouching, stooping, undulating, stilt legs crossing and spinning, sawing diagonally through the air, one dancer even bringing one leg up into a vertical split. It was amazing.
Earlier, Anton had told him how much he loved walking up high, the feeling that in the air anything was possible, and Joel could see it in him, the hard, bright energy pulsing through his body as he danced, all the happiness shining out of his face.
He shifted his gaze, staring at the beer bottle in his hands. Bright, energetic and happy was how he’d been feeling earlier that day, but not now. Now, there was a deep uncomfortable ache spreading through his chest. For some reason Emilie was avoiding him and it hurt. He’d helped her with the cake, carried it out into the bar, but since then it was as if she’d forgotten that he was there. Melinda and Erris had been great, welcoming him warmly, but he wasn’t a great socialiser. Not like Emilie. She’d flitted from group to group, chatting easily with Melinda and Erris’s family and friends, cradling the baby with such a sweet look on her face, but she’d barely looked at him all afternoon.
He sipped his beer. Maybe he was just being too sensitive about it because he was in love, because he knew for certain he was. He’d come to the party to be with Emilie, but she would have come with or without him. Just because he’d tangled himself up in all the strings didn’t mean she had, or would. And yet...so many times over the last week he’d seen something behind her eyes that had made his heart beat a little faster, that had seemed to lift him into the light. It was hard to believe that she didn’t feel something.
He sighed. That morning when he’d left to go sailing, she’d seemed fine, maybe a little preoccupied with the cake, but that was fair enough. She’d put a lot of work into it and worrying about it melting, collapsing or about the decorations getting broken was understandable. He’d been cool with all that, but he’d hoped that once everyone had seen the cake, she’d have lightened up, turned back into her old self again, even her old ‘no strings’ self... His heart twisted sharply, making his breath catch. Even in the fling zone, Emilie had been warmer, sweeter, more attentive than she’d been all afternoon. The deep ache in his chest deepened. There had to be something really wrong.
A tide of clapping and cheering broke into his thoughts and he looked up. The dancing was finished. Anton and his troupe were giant-striding towards the bar, slowing through the soft sand, and then they were parking themselves on the red rail, unstrapping their wooden stilts, faces sheened with perspiration.
He straightened, parking his bottle on a nearby table. The bar was colourful: red rails around the deck, green clapboard walls, blue tables with green chairs pulled up, table lanterns in pinks and yellows, and purples, the air filled with grill smoke and lively chatter. Bright chaos! So different to Sweden. He felt a twinge in his chest, a pang of longing. If he’d been at home in Stockholm, in his apartment, he’d have been feeling peaceful and centred instead of wildly off balance. Here, everything seemed to be slanting the wrong way, or maybe it just felt like that because Emilie wasn’t by his side.
He moved through the bar, looking for her pale pink dress. He’d seen her on the beach with Melinda, watching the dancing, but now...? Nowhere to be seen. His jaw was aching. Had he been grinding his teeth? He pushed through the tables to the steps, looking left and right. If he had to trawl every inch of the beach, he was going to find her. He had something to say, something she needed to hear...and maybe when she heard it, it would make whatever was wrong between them come right again.
* * *
Joel stood at the water’s edge, staring. Beyond the edge of the bay, lights were starting to wink and shimmer, bars and restaurants and houses settling themselves for the night. Why was he alone? Had he done something wrong, something to upset her? He couldn’t think of what it could be, but his belly was churning and churning. Where was she?
He turned, looking back towards the bar. The interior was golden, strings of bare bulbs glowing, candle lamps flickering on the tables under the wide canopied deck. The chatter was a low burble, eclipsed by the mellow reggae number that was beating a path across the sand. For the umpteenth time, he scanned the guests for a trace of pale pink dress. Nothing! There was a knot of people beyond one of the braziers. Maybe she was with them, obscured by someone tall. He started walking, but as he drew level with the fire, he could see she wasn’t there. Desolation flooded his veins. He turned away, staring into the glowing globe, feeling its warmth, losing himself in the intricate-cut design and in the dancing flames behind. Where was she?
‘Joel...’
Emilie! He looked up, heart lurching, stumbling, fizzing. She was walking towards him, hair streaming behind her, dress flowing, a dark wrap sliding off her shoulders. He moved towards her, legs shaking, trying not to look ridiculously overjoyed. ‘Hello, stranger! I’ve been looking for you.’
Her face seemed milky pale in spite of the flickering orange light from the fireball. ‘I’m so sorry. I was on my way to find you, but the bar manager caught me. He asked me to clear my stuff out of the storeroom.’ She shook her head a little. ‘I felt so bad! I’d completely forgotten about it!’
He hadn’t thought to check the storeroom! Maybe she hadn’t been avoiding him after all. He felt a smile straining his cheeks. ‘You should have come for me. I’d have helped.’
She nodded. ‘I know.’
It was so good to see her, but she wasn’t smiling. He tuned in to the familiar reggae track pulsing through the air. Maybe he could make her smile. He slid his hands to her waist, moving his body to the music. ‘Do you wanna dance with me, baby?’
‘Are you drunk?’
‘No!’ There was the faintest glimmer of mischief in her eyes. ‘Why?’
A smile touched her lips. ‘You told me you only dance when you’re very drunk.’
He laughed. Was it really only a week ago that he’d caught her dancing in the kitchen? At least she was smiling now. ‘Well, there are exceptions, like when I’ve been missing someone like crazy and can’t wait to hold her in my arms.’
Something stirred behind her eyes and then her hands landed lightly on his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry for abandoning you. It was wrong of me.’
She smelt so lovely. He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but first, he wanted her to dance, wanted to dance with her. He pushed her hips to the left and then to the right, encouraging her to sway with him. ‘You had people to see, a baby to make a fuss of. I didn’t mind.’ Could she see the lie cowering behind his eyes? ‘The main thing is you’re here now and I’m glad because there’s something I need to say...’
She seemed to catch her breath, and then her eyes fastened on his. ‘I’ve got something to say too.’
‘Oh...?’ Whatever it was, it was making her nervous. He felt his heart slipping slowly downwards. ‘Well, maybe you should go first?’
Her hands fell from his shoulders, then she stepped back a little, pulling at the edges of her wrap. Her smile, when it came, was small and tight. ‘I’ve found a café...well...a potential anyway. It’s in the neighbouring village to my grandmother’s.’
‘Right...’ His stomach clenched. If she was thinking about the café, then... ‘That’s great!’
‘It could be...’ She was biting her lip. ‘And Tom’s come through with the money. I got an email this morning.’
His heart slipped lower, beating hard, panicky beats. Tom! It was good that Tom had come through, but it was not what he’d wanted. He’d wanted to be the one to help, the one to... He swallowed hard, trying to sound pleased. ‘So, you’re on your way to a new adventure.’
She blinked. ‘Well, nothing’s sealed yet, but at least I know what I’m going to be doing when I get back.’ Her eyes held his for a long moment. ‘So I need to focus on that now, put in some groundwork.’ Her tongue hovered over her lower lip. ‘Joel, what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to be offended if I’m...if I’m too busy with things from now on to...to continue with...us.’
His legs turned to rubber. His breath seemed to be stuck. He felt his heart curling into a tight ball. Was she drawing a line under things? That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be!
Her fingers were winding into her wrap. ‘We’ve had fun though, haven’t we, this past week, hanging out...?’ Her gaze fell from his and then she was looking up at him again, a smile struggling on to her lips. ‘You’ve been so lovely and so kind... And you’ve helped me to forget about Tom and...’ she swallowed ‘...being with you has felt like...a little holiday.’
He clenched his back teeth hard, forcing back the tide of pain that was rising and rising inside him. She thought they’d been hanging out... Hanging out? Right enough they’d said ‘no strings’, but it had never felt casual. No kiss, no touch had ever felt less than...and what about the light he’d seen in her eyes so many times? What about the way she’d touched him when they’d been making love? And it had been making love...for him. Even though he’d been confused about Astrid, it had always felt real with Emilie and he’d thought that it was the same for her too...
Kristus! How could he have got it so wrong? What was he supposed to do now? His heart was in his throat. His temples were pounding. All this time he’d been waiting for his walls to come down, but he’d never thought it would be these walls, the walls he’d somehow built with Emilie.
‘And...’ she was still talking ‘...hopefully, you’ll find some closure over Astrid soon.’
His jaw went slack. There was no point telling her he’d resolved those feelings...not now. He quashed a sudden bizarre impulse to laugh. He drew a breath, battling to keep his voice steady. ‘Yes. Hopefully.’ The noises around him were coming at him in throbbing waves. The sand seemed to be parting under his feet. If only he’d had more experience with women, with love, so that he knew what to do now...but he was clueless, floundering. A piece of timber shifted inside the fireball, sending a plume of bright sparks flying up into the air. He looked up, watching them. If only he could have been flying with them, disappearing into the dark sky. Escaping...
‘So, you had something to say too?’
He met her gaze. Her eyes looked large, lustrous...beautiful. He wouldn’t be able to look into those eyes every day for the next week. It would hurt too much to see her every day and not be able to hold her or kiss her. He’d have to go... He’d leave in the morning, first thing. He pressed a hand to the back of his neck. ‘I wanted to say that I’m leaving tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ Her face blanched. ‘I mean, that’s sudden!’ She swallowed. ‘Has something bad happened?’
‘No...nothing bad.’ He dropped his hand and tucked it into the pocket of his chinos. ‘It’s just that a series of business meetings I’d fixed up in Miami has been pulled forward...’ Only the pulled forward part was a lie. The Miami meetings were genuine. He’d tacked them on to the end of his trip since he’d been flying back to Stockholm via Miami anyway. Leaving Buck Island early meant he’d have to kill
time there, but he could hire a boat, cruise around the Florida Keys for a few days. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. ‘It’s why I was looking for you...to tell you...but it seems like it’s all working out for the best.’ He sawed his teeth over his bottom lip. ‘With me gone, you won’t have to cook at all, so you’ll be able to focus on your plans, which is good, right?’
She looked stung and that stung him right back. What was happening to him? He’d just lied to her about why he’d been looking for her and now he was sounding bitter. He hadn’t meant to sound that way, but he was hurting as he’d never hurt before and it was hard keeping his voice steady, never mind controlling what came out of his mouth.
He looked over to the bar, lively with happy, chattering guests. The party would be finishing soon and then they’d be able to head back to Buck Island. He’d walk Emilie back to the cottage and say goodbye, and that would be that. Until then, he would have to endure his pain, hide it somehow, because Emilie didn’t deserve his sharp, raw edges. They’d been having a fling and now she’d drawn a line under it. It wasn’t her fault that he’d fallen in love, wasn’t her fault that he was falling apart. He drew a steadying breath, forcing out a smile. ‘Hey! We should go get a shot of rum to toast the quiet café. You can tell me more about the place you’ve seen.’
She seemed to hesitate and then gave her wrap a little tug. ‘Sure, why not.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Emilie sat up gasping, shoving at the quilt, scrambling out of bed, then scrabbling under it for the sandals she’d kicked off the night before. Joel! She had to see him. Letting him go without saying something...anything other than the nothing she’d managed last night was wrong, just...wrong!
Harlequin Romance April 2021 Box Set Page 60
