Now, with most of what was in her head safely written down, she was exhausted.
She found Max in the lounge. He was sitting on the couch reading Great Expectations, which seemed so incongruous that it made her frown. As she entered the room, he stood up and put the book on the coffee table.
“I’m not the Queen, you don’t have to stand for my arrival,” Rachel said, leaning on the back of the armchair beside the door.
“You’ve been working a long time,” he said. She appreciated that he hadn’t asked how it was going; there was nothing worse than being asked how a book was going when it was barely even a plot-idea yet, let alone a book.
Rachel stood up and swayed her hips from side to side, trying to loosen her lower back. “Mmm. Time for food. You hungry?”
For a moment, she thought Max was going to say yes. But she was wrong. “I ate. Thank you.”
When she opened the fridge, last night’s risotto was still there. “What did he eat?” she murmured to herself. Probably sandwiches again. She glanced at Brandi, as if she might be able to offer an answer. But then shrugged, shoved the risotto into the microwave to heat it up, and retreated to her room to eat it.
She fell asleep reading a new novel by her favourite author and woke with it on her chest. Squinting at the clock, she saw it was two a.m. Her mouth felt dry, and she’d forgotten to bring a glass upstairs, so she tip-toed down to the kitchen in her pyjamas to fetch one.
She was returning to the stairs when she noticed a light emanating from the study. Tutting at herself for leaving it on, she walked down the cold, stone-floored hallway and nudged the door open.
“Oh my goodness!” Her whole body started and the water from her glass flew comically up into the air.
“Rachel?” Max had been sitting in the armchair by the bookcase and now leapt to his feet, tucking something sheepishly behind his back.
“You scared me,” she said, putting her hand on her chest. Her heart was beating way too fast and her legs felt wobbly.
“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t moving from his corner of the room. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“I came for water and saw the light. I thought I’d left it on.”
“I’m sorry,” Max said again. “I shouldn’t be in here.”
Rachel sat down hard in the chair beside the desk. “Don’t be silly. You can use the room, it’s fine.” She tipped her head to one side and narrowed her eyes at him. “Were you reading?”
Max paused. He looked different. In a dark red sweatshirt and grey pyjama bottoms, he seemed... normal. And softer around the edges, as if he’d forgotten to put his guard back up. He looked over towards her pile of Rogue Detective novels. The top one was missing. Slowly, he brought his hands out from behind his back and waved the book at her.
“You’re reading my book?” Rachel wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or worried.
“I started the first chapter last night and couldn’t put it down.”
“Wow.” Rachel smiled. “High praise.”
“It’s very good,” he said quietly.
Rachel tugged at her ponytail and nodded slowly. “It’s the worst one, actually. My writing is very different now. Better, I think.”
Max looked as if he wanted to sit back down, but didn’t.
“I don’t usually travel with all of my books,” she said, trying to show him that they could have a real conversation and that it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “I just thought I might need to refresh my memory for the last in series.”
Max nodded. “I should...” He gestured towards the door.
“You stay. I just came down for water. I’ll see you in the morning.” Rachel got up and pushed the chair back under the desk.
In the doorway, she paused. She wanted to say something that would make him see she was a good person to have as a friend, that this whole thing might just be easier if they got along. But, on this occasion, inspiration refused to strike.
“Goodnight Max,” she said quietly.
“Goodnight Rachel.”
12
Max
ONE WEEK LATER
Since the night she found him reading her book, Max had made a concerted effort to remain as distanced as possible from Rachel French. Not easy, when sharing a small cottage. But necessary because, for a reason he couldn’t quite fathom, when Rachel was in close proximity, he felt... off-kilter.
It had caught him off-guard and he was finding it oddly disorientating. Probably, it was because she was a bit of a contradiction. He didn’t come across many people who surprised him but every time he thought he’d figured Rachel out, she did something unexpected.
Most of the time, he got the measure of a person pretty quickly and his initial assumptions were very rarely wrong. But with Rachel, nothing seemed to fit the way he’d expected it to when he read her background information in Tyler’s case notes.
She was a crime writer, but she was bubbly, warm, and had a remarkably good sense of humour. She lived in an upmarket apartment in Knightsbridge but seemed comfortable in a creaky, damp old cottage. She owned a cat but liked dogs more. She was beautiful – there was no other word for it – and yet she appeared neither aware of her beauty or unaware of it. Unlike most attractive women he’d come across in his life, she had exactly the right amount of confidence. Not too much. Not too little.
A few days ago, as Rachel had passed through the trees into the clearing by the lake, Max had found himself staring at her silhouette. Then, clenching his jaw, he had stopped and tutted at himself.
Traditionally, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about whether the women he met were attractive. As a detective, most females he came across had been either witnesses, victims, or colleagues. And Max had always been incredibly professional.
When he quit the force, he had briefly wondered whether dating might be a good idea. But then life had taken over and he’d had too many other things to think about.
He was still worrying about those things. His money problems were resolving themselves, but the reason for them hadn’t disappeared. And yet, Rachel French – of all people – was getting to him.
Now, Max was sitting outside waiting for Rachel so that they could go on their daily walk.
Beside him, Brandi made a low whining sound and nudged his knee with her nose. When he looked down, her right ear twitched – the way it always did when she was trying to interpret his thoughts or movements. Max smiled at her, nudged himself out of his thoughts, and stroked the thick fur around her neck.
Since their arrival in the Highlands, they’d settled into something of a routine. Each morning, they’d head out on a walk. Rachel would pick a new direction every day and they would walk for two hours, stop and eat the sandwiches Max had prepared, then turn around and go back to the cottage.
In the afternoons, Rachel worked and Max tried to pretend that he was enjoying his copy of Great Expectations. Despite the fact she’d discovered him reading her book, Max didn’t want to do it in front of her. When he was reading her words, it felt as if he was seeing a different side of her personality. Okay, it was crime. So, it wasn’t like he was reading about her. In fact, her main character – Detective Tom Ridley – was more like Max himself than he’d care to admit. But he’d see flashes of Rachel in her characters, or in the way she described places, and when that happened it felt… intimate. So, he read her books only at night.
Today, they were going to attempt to find a waterfall that Rachel had pin-pointed on the map. So far, Max had sat back and let her dictate where they went. But today he felt nervous. He’d been listening to local radio that morning and there was talk of a storm rolling in. He didn’t want to get caught in it, but Rachel said she’d checked on her phone and that there was no mention of bad weather.
Still, when she joined him at the front of the cottage, he noticed that she was wearing a black weatherproof jacket instead of her usual tartan coat.
“Ready?” she asked.
Max nodded and stood u
p.
“We need to head back up the driveway, along the road, then veer off towards these woods.” She traced the route on the map with her index finger.
“Ladies first.” Max unclipped Brandi’s lead and gestured ahead.
After an hour’s walking, they finally reached the woods that Rachel had pointed to. “Wow,” she said, stopping to rest her hands on her thighs and breathe out heavily. “That was further than I expected.”
Max raised his eyes to the darkening sky. It looked bruised; ten different shades of grey, converging ominously above them. “Are you sure you want to continue?”
Rachel looked up too but then pulled her hair back from her neck and nodded. “Yep. Look, my phone says it’ll be fine.” She waved a screenshot of her weather app at him then put her hands into her pockets and strode forwards.
They’d only been in the woods for a short while when Rachel stopped and said, “Can you hear that? I think it’s the waterfall.”
Max strained his ears; she was right. The sound of fast-flowing water drifted through the trees towards them. “This way,” he said, following the sound.
They emerged into a small clearing surrounded by mossy rocks. In the centre was a swirling pool that fed into a river and wound back into the trees beyond. The waterfall was small but powerful, tumbling down from what looked like three wide ledges, one on top of the other.
Max put his hands into his pockets and stopped walking. He didn’t spend a lot of time in the countryside. In fact, for most of the past twenty years he’d seen nothing but high-rise buildings and busy streets. Occasionally, he’d travelled out of London for work and glimpsed fields or forests from his car window. But, mostly, he was a city dweller.
When they first arrived in Scotland, he’d been quite scathing of the gloomy weather and spent most of his time wondering whether the sun would come out. Since then, however, Rachel’s fondness for their slightly bleak surroundings had begun to rub off on him. She talked frequently about how much she loved water and, watching the falls flow onto the rocks below, he had to admit that it had a calming effect.
Beside him, Rachel smiled and whispered, “Beautiful.”
Max nodded, trying not to notice the way her eyes were sparkling, and gestured to some rocks over by the falls. “Shall we sit?”
“Did you bring your famous cheese sandwiches?”
“I did.”
“And coffee?”
“And coffee.”
“Then, yes. Let’s.” Rachel rubbed her hands against the cold and chose a not-too-wet rock close to the water. Max sat down beside her and opened his backpack. He handed her the flask and two black plastic cups. “Thanks,” she said, still smiling.
“Are you always this happy?” The question escaped Max’s lips before he had the chance to stop it. Usually, those kinds of thoughts remained part of his interior monologue. Rarely, did he speak them out loud.
Rachel let out a small laugh and her forehead creased as if she was thinking hard about her answer. “Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m one of those obscenely happy people. You know, the kind who think that everything in life is wonderful and are full of the joys of spring twenty-four-seven.” She handed him back the flask and tilted her head to the side. “But I do try to see the best in situations.”
“Unusual, for a crime writer.” Max poured his own coffee then screwed the lid back on the flask.
Rachel shook her head and laughed. “That’s a ridiculous thing to say.”
“Is it?”
“It’s like saying that all romance writers have to be in love all the time, or that all children’s writers have the minds of four-year-olds...” Rachel paused and looked pointedly at him. “Or that all detectives are inherently miserable.”
Max felt his mouth twitch into a smile. “Actually, I think that last one is pretty accurate.”
After a short flow of easy conversation, Max noticed that he’d started to relax and instantly corrected himself – he straightened his back, broadened his shoulders, and concentrated on unpacking the sandwiches instead of inviting further discourse.
Rachel ate her sandwich slowly. Instead of holding it with both hands and taking large bites, like Max did, she picked at it, broke it into smaller chunks, and took an age to chew them. When she’d finished, she wiped the crumbs off her lap and stood up. “I’m going to get closer and take some photographs.”
“It looks slippery. Be careful.”
Rachel ignored him and gingerly moved forwards over the rocks. She was wearing white trainers that were clearly designed to be fashionable rather than practical. For a moment, Max watched her. But then he got up and followed.
Near the water’s edge, she bobbed down to take pictures with her phone. Max stood behind her and briefly closed his eyes. For a moment, he wondered what it might be like if he was alone; holidaying by himself in the cottage, able to have leisurely mornings in bed with coffee and a newspaper, and to take walks at his own pace to his own destinations. But when he opened his eyes and saw Rachel turning to smile at him, a voice in his head whispered, Would you want to be here without her?
Shaking it off, Max extended his hand. “Here,” he said, gesturing for her to take it.
“I’m fine.” She shook her head at him, but as she placed her foot on the rock beside his, she slipped.
13
Rachel
Max reached for her. He grabbed both of her hands and pulled her up, moving his arms around her waist so that he could steady her.
Rachel put her hands on his upper arms and grabbed hold. She was pressed up against him and she could feel her heart beating quickly. Laughing nervously, she found she couldn’t persuade herself to move her hands away from his arms.
His eyes were a deep, hazel brown. He was taller than her, a lot taller, and wrapped in his arms she felt the safest she had in months.
“Are you all right?” Max still hadn’t let go of her.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She took her hand back and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Are you going to say, ‘I told you so’?”
Max shook his head. “No. I don’t think I need to.”
Rachel was still staring into Max’s eyes and wondering who would be the first to break away, when a huge, vicious thunderclap rattled the trees and made her jump.
Stepping back from her and letting go of her waist, Max pointed at the sky in the distance. “Lightning,” he said.
“Max, I’m so sorry. My phone said…” She sighed and almost laughed. “I really should start listening to you soon, shouldn’t I?”
Max didn’t answer her, just looked back towards the trees. Brandi was sitting beside one, watching them intently as if she was waiting for them to get the heck out of there. Pursing his lips, Max muttered, “Do we make a run for it and try to get back to the cottage or...”
“Or what?” Rachel shivered. “There’s nowhere to shelter.”
Another clap of thunder shook the sky and Brandi whimpered. Rachel looked at the surface of the pool – large, heavy raindrops were dimpling the surface. Taking her hand, Max led her back over the rocks to the spot just inside the trees. Then he took Brandi’s lead from his pocket, clipped it onto her collar, and handed it to Rachel. “Wait there.”
“Where are you going?” Rachel’s heart was pounding. She didn’t want him to leave.
Max replied, but his words were swallowed by the sound of the rain. Rachel stepped beneath the shelter of the trees and when she looked up, he had disappeared.
“Brandi? Did you see where he went?” Rachel bobbed down and put her arm around Brandi’s shoulders. The usually fearless dog tucked her nose into Rachel’s elbow and nuzzled close. A moment later, Max reappeared, seemingly from nowhere.
“This way.” He took Rachel’s hand. The rain was so heavy she could barely see two steps in front of her. Beside the waterfall, Max stopped and scooped Brandi into his arms. Without speaking, he gestured for Rachel to wait where she was, then stepped ging
erly onto the rocks beside the falls.
Rachel’s heart leapt into her throat as she watched him, almost completely hidden now by the spray and the rain. She narrowed her eyes but couldn’t tell what he was doing or where he was going. And then he was gone, reappearing a few seconds later without Brandi.
“Max?” Rachel shouted as he reached out his hand.
“This way.”
Rachel did as she was told and allowed Max to pull her onto the rocks beside him. Gently, he shuffled around so that he was behind her and put his hands on her waist. “Just keep moving forwards.”
Slowly, she inched closer to the waterfall, ignoring the voice in her head that was screaming, Rachel, what are you doing?! and concentrating on the way Max’s hands guided her. They were inches away from the water. It was tumbling down so fast that Rachel felt she might fall in if she dared to look at it for too long.
Max shifted sideways. “Turn, like this,” he instructed, pressing himself against the rocks behind them. Rachel copied him, and he waved his hand in the direction of the waterfall. “Keep moving and you’ll end up behind the falls.”
Rachel swallowed hard. It sounded ridiculously dangerous, but she trusted him. Every fibre in her body trusted him. So, she breathed in, counted to ten, and did what he said.
She moved slowly and, after just a few feet, the rocks began to curve round. As she followed them, she heard Brandi’s bark and smiled.
Rachel stepped into the wide solid opening of what could only be described as a cave and leaned forwards to rest her hands on her thighs. Breathing heavily, she felt a shiver ripple through her body and she wasn’t sure if it was because of adrenaline or the cold.
Max was crouched down, pressing his face against Brandi’s. The sound of the thunder was muted by the waterfall, but it was dark. Very dark.
Rachel took out her phone and turned on the torch, shining it into the cave. “It goes quite far back,” she said quietly.
The True Love Travels Series Box Set Page 5
