by Holly Martin
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Stay in touch…
Also by Holly Martin
A letter from Holly
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Lyra paused at the top of the hill, catching her breath. She loved cycling, but she was very much the kind of cyclist who would throw her lunch in the basket on the front and go out for a leisurely ride, rather than part of the hardcore, high-vis, Lycra-wearing brigade who would spend the whole day cycling for miles through mountainous terrain. Consequently, the hill she’d just cycled up was a lot more tasking than she was used to. But the view at the top was utterly spectacular.
The sea was a gloriously deep sapphire blue today, glittering like thousands of stars had fallen from the skies. She smiled as below her the whole of Jewel Island was spread out in front of her. Soon to be her new home. Up ahead, not too far from where she was now, her little cottage, named Sunlight, was waiting for her to move into in a few days’ time. She could see the Sapphire Bay Hotel standing proudly on the headland, a large white house with big glass windows on all sides to make the most of the amazing views. Lyra was starting work there the following week. Most of the beaches were on the far side of the island but she could see little glimpses of golden sands sparkling in the sunlight. The picture-postcard village looked joyful with its multicoloured houses and cottages, the bunting fluttering in the gentle summer breeze, the fairy lights twinkling as the sun was just starting its descent into the sky, leaving the clouds the palest pink.
A bell rang behind her and she turned to see one of the Lycra brigade cycling past in lurid neon pink on a high-tech black bike that looked like it might be capable of competing in the Olympics. Lyra looked down at the turquoise strapless dress she was wearing and the gold strappy sandals. Her bike was a metallic pale blue with a white wicker basket on the front that she affectionately called Daisy. She definitely wasn’t part of that group.
The cyclist waved a friendly hand as she soared past, not taking any time to appreciate the amazing view.
Lyra’s stomach rumbled hungrily and she decided she better get a move on if she was going to get back to her hotel in time for dinner. She’d already booked a table in the restaurant. She took another glance at the Sapphire Bay Hotel. She’d tried to get a room there while she waited for her cottage to be ready but they had been full. Her sister Michelle, who had moved to Jewel Island a few months before, didn’t have room for her either, as she was completely redecorating and renovating her home, so Lyra had settled for a small hotel further down the coast on the mainland.
Lyra manoeuvred Daisy back onto the road and pushed off, laughing as she started to pick up speed as she sailed down the hill, the wind lifting her long hair off her neck so it trailed behind her. She raised her feet from the pedals, leaving her legs out to the side, and let out a scream of pure joy.
There was something so utterly wonderful about a rare moment of complete freedom. It was exhilarating. As someone who had conditioned herself to be sensible and play it safe, she very rarely let her hair down like this. If she did, it almost always went wrong, and people got hurt. But nothing could go wrong freewheeling down a hill.
As she neared the bottom of the hill, she spotted a man on the side of the road, with a large white and black dog. The man had dark hair and warm, amber-coloured eyes, with a gorgeous warm Mediterranean skin tone. Their eyes locked as she soared towards him and she was struck with a strong sense that she’d seen him somewhere before. She watched in surprise as his mouth fell open in shock. She flew past him, confused by his look – unless he recognised her too? Suddenly she noticed in horror that her strapless dress had slid down and her breasts had been completely on display, flashing the poor guy as she’d cycled past. She tried to drag her dress back up, pedalling away as fast as she could, but the dress was caught in the cogs on the back wheel, pulling it further down her belly. As she carried on pedalling, the bike slowed with the resistance of the dress. She gave the dress one more tug to try to free it and toppled off the bike onto the soft grass on the side of the road.
She swore softly as she struggled to extract herself from the bike, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She prayed the man hadn’t spotted her fall and had carried on his way. She absolutely didn’t need him to come and help her when her breasts were still hanging out. The dress was stuck fast in the bike and no amount of wiggling around was freeing it.
Suddenly the large English setter that had been with the man came bounding up to her, shoving his face in hers, his floppy jowls wet as he sniffed her, his tail wagging excitedly. Despite her predicament, she couldn’t help but laugh as she stroked his large head.
‘Dexter, come away, you big lump,’ came a deep male voice from behind the dog, although Dexter did no such thing.
The next thing, the dog was heaved away and the man she’d seen on the corner was standing there. He saw her state of undress and looked away.
‘You all right? Do you need some help?’
Lyra desperately tried to hide her breasts, tugging fruitlessly on her dress. ‘Yeah, I think only my pride has been hurt. I definitely don’t need any help.’
She couldn’t think of anything worse.
To her complete surprise, the man tugged off his t-shirt, revealing impressively toned abs and strong arms. It left Lyra almost speechless, which even she had to acknowledge was a rarity. She wondered if he was trying to make her feel better by being topless too, although his gorgeous body did nothing to make her feel better about the part of her body currently on display.
‘Here, put this on and then see if you can wiggle out of your dress and I can try to remove it from the bike. It looks like it’s caught up pretty bad,’ the man said, still looking away from her.
His voice was familiar too; it had a beautiful lilt to it, suggesting he was from somewhere else in the world, somewhere exotic no doubt. But she knew she’d heard it somewhere before.
‘Thank you.’ Lyra took the t-shirt, hoping somehow the ground could swallow her up. With a great deal of effort she managed to pull the t-shirt over herself, covering her modesty, but the dress was caught up so badly, wrapped tightly around her hips, there was no way she could get out of it. She tugged and flailed around while the man looked everywhere but at her. Finally she gave up.
‘I might need some help.’
She saw his lips twitch into a smirk. He was definitely enjoying her discomfort.
He glanced at her and, seeing she was covered, he knelt down as Dexter continued to sniff around her, obviously wondering if he could help too.
‘To be clear,’ the man said. ‘You want me to take your dress off?’
Amusement danced in his eyes and it struck her then that if it hadn’t been the case that right now she wanted to run away from him and die of embarrassment at the very first opport
unity, he would have been the kind of man she’d like to get to know better. As it was, she’d be quite happy if she never saw him ever again.
‘Yes, I’d like you to take my dress off, but no peeking.’
He held up his hand in a Boy Scout salute. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Although I have to say, I normally take a woman out for dinner before it gets this far.’
She couldn’t help smiling.
‘I’m Nix Sanchez, by the way. I feel like we should at least be on first-name terms before I start taking your clothes off.’
Nix. She let the name roll around her tongue for a moment. Surely she would remember a name as unique as that.
‘Lyra Thomas.’
He offered out his hand and she shook it. His hand felt warm to the touch.
He turned his attention to her dress, cleared his throat awkwardly, and then started to tug it over her hips, but it was wrapped around her so tightly, there was no give at all. In fact the material was starting to dig into her flesh.
Nix frowned, all humour fading from his eyes. ‘I’m hurting you.’
Lyra winced. ‘A little, but it’s OK, just get it off.’
‘I’m going to have to cut it.’
To her surprise, he pulled a penknife from his pocket. He flicked it open and her eyes widened. Christ, that looked sharp.
‘I don’t think…’ Lyra started but Nix was already hacking away at the material, her favourite dress reduced to shreds in a matter of seconds. As she wriggled herself free of the dress and the bike, she realised her unicorn knickers were now on display too. She pulled the t-shirt down over them but it barely covered her bum. Well, this day was just getting better and better.
Nix worked quickly to release the dress from the cogs on the back wheel and then handed her bike back to her. She held the t-shirt down over her knickers with one hand and took the bike with the other.
He quickly grabbed the remains of the dress and handed them to her, though it was quite clear they weren’t going to be good for anything.
‘Ah, sorry. I would give you my shorts but I’m not wearing anything underneath. I might get arrested if I start walking around the streets completely naked. Look, I’m camping in that field over there. Why don’t you come back with me and I can lend you some more clothes?’
Lyra looked at the tatters of her dress and tied them around her waist like some kind of makeshift loincloth. She couldn’t exactly ride back to her hotel like this. She nodded reluctantly; why not prolong her embarrassment a little longer?
They started walking down the road and an awkward silence fell over them. He’d seen her breasts for Christ’s sake. What could she possibly say to make this situation better? And she was walking along the road wearing nothing more than a t-shirt, her bloody unicorn knickers and the remnants of her dress like a giant nappy.
She noticed that Nix had a tattoo round his arm, which looked like a series of numbers. She realised they were co-ordinates. She wanted to ask him about them but tattoos were very personal sometimes and she didn’t feel they had arrived at that stage yet, despite him having seen her in various stages of undress. She felt like she needed to clear the air somehow before she started asking him what could be very personal questions.
‘I’m sorry I flashed you.’
‘Oh, I didn’t notice.’
‘Really?’
‘No, I completely caught an eyeful.’
She laughed. ‘You should have looked away.’
‘Beautiful, half-naked woman sails past me on her bike screaming and whooping like a maniac. Believe me, there’s no way I could look away from that, even if I wanted to.’
She tried to imagine what she must have looked like. It was certainly something Nix wouldn’t forget in a hurry, but not necessarily for all the right reasons.
Nix unlocked a gate and held it open for her as she wheeled Daisy into the field.
Up against one corner, under a large oak, sat a small shiny blue camper van. ‘Is that your van? I love it, she’s beautiful.’
‘She?’ Nix said as they walked towards the van.
‘Of course she’s a woman. What’s her name?’
‘Why would I give my van a name?’
‘She needs a name,’ Lyra said, outraged.
‘Does your bike have a name?’
‘Yes, it’s Daisy.’
He smirked. ‘I should have known. Maybe you should name my van for me.’
‘Well let’s see… something fabulous, glamorous, like one of those old singers from back in the day. How about Judy, after Judy Garland?’
‘Judy,’ Nix nodded. ‘Sure, why not? Hi Judy, we’re back and I brought a friend with me.’ He lowered his voice and whispered theatrically, ‘And please don’t judge the way she’s dressed, we can’t all look as fabulous as you.’
Lyra grinned.
Nix opened the van door and gestured for Lyra to go inside. He followed her in and she was suddenly aware of how small the space was inside when he was standing right behind her. There was a bed up one end, a small kitchen area, a few cupboards, and that was it.
Nix squeezed past her and opened one of the overhead cabinets. He rooted around for a few moments and then pulled out a pair of shorts. He handed them to her. ‘They’re drawstring so you should be able to pull it tight enough to fit.’
‘Thank you,’ Lyra said.
‘I’ll leave you to get changed. I’m sure you don’t want me to see your unicorn knickers again.’
She stared after him in shock as he climbed out the van, chuckling to himself.
Lyra quickly pulled the shorts on, tightening the waist, and then stepped outside, feeling slightly less vulnerable now she was fully clothed.
Nix was standing at a small gas barbeque, adding a few sausages as Dexter sniffed hopefully around him.
‘Thank you for this and for stopping to help me back there,’ Lyra said.
‘No problem.’
She paused. ‘I should probably go. Are you here for a few days? I can get your clothes back to you.’
‘No, I leave tomorrow, I have a meeting in Bristol tomorrow afternoon. But don’t worry about it.’
‘Oh, I could come back later tonight, drop them off.’
‘Honestly, don’t worry. But if you don’t have to rush off, you can join me for some sausages. I make my own onion chutney and, I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty bloody amazing. And with the sausages you’re talking five-star cuisine.’
Lyra laughed at Nix’s lack of modesty. She was about to politely decline; she had a plan for the evening and she always liked to stick to her plans. But her stomach rumbled loudly again. The sausages did look good, the big fat kind, and they were already starting to sizzle, turning a lovely shade of crispy brown. And she was still trying to place where she’d met him before. Maybe if she hung around a bit longer, it would come to her. Her plan to eat alone in the hotel restaurant didn’t seem quite so tempting now. And she was technically on holiday, so she could afford to be a bit more fluid with her plans.
‘Sausages and amazing onion chutney sounds good, if you have enough. I wouldn’t want to deprive poor Dexter of his sausages.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, there’s plenty for all of us. I couldn’t let Dexter miss out. I’d be more likely to go hungry before he does – he’s thoroughly spoiled, aren’t you Dex?’
Dexter wagged his tail as if he agreed.
‘Take a seat, they won’t be long.’
Lyra sat down in one of the garden chairs and studied him for a moment as he tended to the sausages.
‘Nix, have we met somewhere before?’
He looked at her. ‘I thought that too but I haven’t a clue where from. Do you work for the trust?’
‘The trust?’ Lyra said.
He gestured to the t-shirt she was wearing. It was a green one that had some kind of small logo across the left side of her chest. She pulled it out to see what it said. ‘The Countryside Trust’.
‘Oh no, I don’t. I take it you d
o?’
‘I volunteer for them,’ Nix said. ‘If it’s not that, then I have no idea. Maybe we met in another life.’
She smiled. Maybe it was far-fetched but she liked the idea that they were connected somehow through the passing of time. An eternity of friendship… or maybe more. Back when she was a child, she believed in whimsical stuff like that; fairytales, wishes, soul mates and destiny. And then at sixteen she suddenly had to grow up. Life with responsibility was far more boring.
Nix disappeared back inside the van for a second. He came back out carrying a bottle of red wine and pulling a t-shirt on over his head, which Lyra found herself disappointed by.
‘Would you like a glass?’ he asked.
She wasn’t a big drinker but she did enjoy red wine now and again. There was plenty of time before the last ferry left the island. And as the sun was setting she would try to get a taxi back to her hotel once she reached the mainland rather than negotiate tiny country lanes in the dark on her bike, so she might as well enjoy a glass or two.
She nodded and he poured out two large glasses and passed one to her. Lyra took a sip. It was soothing and very fruity and felt instantly warm at the back of her throat.
‘Mmm, this is lovely.’
‘Ah thank you. I make my own using strawberries, plums and blackberries.’
‘Oh wow. That’s so cool. I wouldn’t know where to start with that.’
‘It’s just a little hobby. And believe me, the first few batches I made were not fit for human consumption. But I like experimenting with stuff like that, food, wine; it’s fun.’
‘And is that what you do as a job, are you a chef?’
‘Oh no, I never really fancied cooking for other people – well, other than friends and family. But no, I didn’t want to do that as a job. I enjoy it too much to want that to be my nine to five.’
