Her immediate response was to refuse. Yet she found herself questioning that response, analysing it. Was it fear of Thomas that was stopping her from agreeing, or fear of herself?
What was it Cesca had said when she visited? If somebody is offering you a bit of fun, why don’t you take it?
She already knew that a day out with Ryan would be fun. She hadn’t laughed as much in years as she had with him. He was attractive, kind and full of humour – and more importantly he’d be gone in a few months. Like her, he wasn’t looking for something permanent.
Just a bit of fun. She could do that.
‘Okay,’ she said, her mouth widening into a smile. ‘I’ll go sailing with you. And if I end up falling overboard after a squall hits, I expect you to come in and save me.’
His grin was as big as hers. ‘Sweetheart, you can count on it.’
15
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do
– Romeo and Juliet
Cleaning the shop on Thanksgiving Day had worn her out, until every muscle in her body ached. After walking back through the door in the late evening, her hair covered in cobwebs, the skin on her hands raw from scrubbing, Juliet had called Poppy and talked to her for a while, satisfying herself that her daughter was happy and well looked after, before collapsing into her much-anticipated bath. But rather than drink from the glass of Malbec she’d poured for herself, she’d fallen asleep until the water had turned chill against her skin. And of course, by the time she dried herself, and crawled into bed, she somehow found a second wind.
She lay there, listening to the creaking of the house, of the whistling of the wind as the storm slowly steamed its way out, and tried to order the thoughts as they rushed through her head.
‘That man’s got a thing for you.’ That’s what Cesca had said to her, as Ryan had carried a sleeping Charlie back home, his muscles flexing beneath his son’s weight. ‘He’s been making love to you with his eyes for half the night. And the way he kept staring at you, Jesus, Juliet, it made me realise your eyes weren’t the only thing he wanted to make love to.’
It was a good thing neither Ryan nor Sam had heard her. It was bad enough having to put up with Sam calling her London for the rest of his stay, his huge grin making her want to stab him in the eye with a pen. As for Cesca, when she wasn’t trying to support Juliet through her issues with Thomas, she was singing Ryan’s praises, telling her the best way to get over one man was by getting under the next.
As soon as they’d left to fly back to LA she’d missed them. And now, the house was quieter than ever. Just Juliet and her thoughts – and they weren’t proving to be the best company right now.
Dawn arrived, heralding a change in weather. Though the sky remained overcast, any hint of yesterday’s storm was gone, leaving yellow-tipped clouds that seemed desperately trying to dissolve. Juliet pulled at the corner of her curtain, looking out at the yard where broken branches and twigs lay on top of mushy brow
n leaves, puddles of water still covering them from yesterday’s rain. It was sweater weather, for sure.
She carried her coffee cup out onto the porch. The old bench creaked as she sat down, curling her denim-clad legs beneath her. Wispy clouds rose up from her mug, mingling with the vapour that escaped every time she exhaled. It reminded her of her daughter, and the way Poppy called it ‘dragon breath’.
She was swallowing the final mouthful when she saw the front door open in the next house over. Ryan emerged, wearing a dark grey sweater and jeans. The denim clung to him like it couldn’t bear to let go.
Wow. He was breathtaking.
‘Hey.’ A smile curled at his lips as he walked down the steps, and across to her bungalow. His old sneakers squelched across the wet grass. ‘You ready to go?’
‘As soon as I’ve finished my coffee.’ She lifted her mug up. ‘There’s still some left in the pot. Would you like one?’
Every time he was near, her body reacted to him. He only had to stand close for her to become hyper-aware of his height, his muscles, the way his face looked like sculpted perfection. He smelled of fresh water and sandalwood, a combination that fired something in her synapses, her mind a whirl as adrenaline shot through her body.
‘Coffee sounds good.’ His voice still held the thickness of sleep. ‘Do you have a travel mug? We can take some with us.’
He followed her into the kitchen, and she could feel his body heat as he stood behind her. The room seemed small, more closed in than she remembered. As if by walking inside it he’d somehow made everything less significant.
‘I made us some sandwiches, too. I wasn’t sure how long we’d be out for, so I thought I should bring something just in case.’ She was talking just to fill the silence, afraid of what would happen if she let it overwhelm her. ‘It’s ham salad – do you like ham? Maybe I should have asked you first.’
‘Ham sounds great, thanks for making them. And we can be out as long as you like since we’re child-free. The day is ours.’
Oh. She felt an excited nervousness pricking at her skin.
The drive to the wharf passed in the blink of an eye. He turned the radio to a rock station, and hummed along as he drove through the town and towards the water’s edge. His foot tapped to the beat, his muscled thigh rising and falling, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away. When they reached a stoplight he looked over at her, a small smile playing at his lips. Their eyes locked, as if they shared a secret nobody else could know. Her skin started to tingle all over again.
‘You doing all right, London?’
‘Yeah, I’m good.’