I smirked. “Accidentally saw him or purposefully saw him?”
“You do ask a lot of questions.”
“I have a curious mind.”
He laughed. “Does it matter if it was accidental or not?”
I struck a pose, pretending to think with my index finger on my lip. “Well, purposefully seeing him would accrue more brownie points.”
“Then I purposefully saw him.”
I laughed. “Of course you did.”
As I pulled out a prawn sandwich and snuggled back into my previous position, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was telling the truth. Had he purposefully seen my dad?
The screen came to life at last and as I indulged on wine and prawns laid against the chest of a handsome man, I knew life couldn’t get any better.
Chapter 8
I woke the next day with a huge grin on my face. As soon as I opened my eyes, Marcus flooded my thoughts. I grabbed my phone to see a text from him.
Marcus: Good Morning, Miss Snaps. I had a wonderful time last night. Could I perhaps pique your interest for dinner this evening?
I giggled at his nickname for me. I’d devoured four bags of Snaps before restraining myself. I’d have allowed myself to eat all six if I hadn’t felt so self-conscious. As I re-read Marcus’ text, I couldn’t help myself—I gave a little squeal of joy and kicked my feet up and down in excitement on my bed. How had I met a guy so perfect?
As I debated what to reply, another message popped through.
Hannah: So today is day 3 in Whitby and I've heard nothing from you which can only mean you’re either a) dead, or b) too busy with some guy. If it’s b, call me, NOW!!!
I laughed and pressed the call button whilst pulling myself up into a sitting position.
“She’s alive,” Hannah said, giggling down the phone.
“I am very much alive,” I replied, giggling back.
“Oh, Cat, I've never heard you giggle like that. Please tell me there’s a guy on the scene?”
I could imagine Hannah right now—her freckled face screwed up in anticipation and her free hand balled into a fist of excitement. She’d be stood up in her bedroom, her blonde hair wild and wavy and debating her choice of clothes for the day.
“There is a guy on the scene,” I said, holding the phone away from my ear in anticipation of the shriek.
Even with the phone six inches away, her scream nearly deafened me. “OMG. Tell me everything. I want all the deets, from the moment you saw him to the moment he kissed you.”
“Well, he hasn’t actually kissed me yet,” I said, almost cringing.
“WHAT? Why not? Is he gay? Or are you being your usual self?”
I laughed. “Thanks, Hannah. No, he’s not gay, and no, I'm not being my usual self. I actually wanted him to kiss me the first night, but he didn’t. He kissed my cheek instead.”
“He what?” she said, her voice mocking. I could imagine her forehead creased in confusion. “Cat, he’s gay, I'm telling you.”
I giggled. “He’s not gay. He's just very...chivalrous. He’s really old fashioned with his manners and stuff. He opens the car door for me and compliments me all the time. And last night he packed us a picnic for—”
She snorted. “Gay. What boy packs a picnic?”
“He’s not a boy, Hannah. He’s a man. He’s thirty-two.”
A sharp gasp sounded down the line. “How old? That’s like, ancient. Cat, come on. You don’t need no grandad. You want a young hot stud.”
I laughed. “Believe me, if you saw him, you’d never look at another boy our age again.”
“I’ll take your word for it. So come on then, tell me the story about you and Grandad.”
Rolling my eyes at her nickname for Marcus, I indulged her in all the details she wanted. “And he’s text me this morning asking me to go to dinner with him this evening.”
“Oh, dinner,” she said, putting on a posh voice. “Well, I suppose dinner would only fit one with a supercar.”
I laughed. “I think someone is jealous.”
“I think you’re making this up. Pics or it didn’t happen.”
“Oh, come on, that’s not fair.”
“Nope. If this is the dude you’re going to finally give it up to, I want pictures.”
“Hannah!”
She giggled for ages. “I’m just saying. You’re like the only girl who left school still intact. That's gotta be like a world record or something.”
“You mean because I actually respect myself?”
“Respect, frigid, tomayto, tomarto.”
“Buzz off,” I replied, laughing. “I don’t care about peer pressure. I'll do it when I'm good and ready.”
“Ohhhh,” she said, her posh voice still on. “You mean when Mr Davenport suggests making lurve.”
My cheeks burst into heat. “On that note, I'm going. Bye, Hannah,” I said, laughing.
“Enjoy your dinner tonight. Let me know how the making lurve goes.”
I hung up to the sound of her laughter and shook my head as I climbed out of bed. School had been a terrible time from about the age of fourteen upwards. That had been the general age when everyone had started going out drinking, getting off with random boys, and gradually, everyone lost their virginity by the time they were sixteen.
Except me.
After watching the boys brag to each other about who bedded who and which girl had the biggest breasts or the nicest looking vagina, sleeping with one of them left me with more appeal to stick pins in my eyes whilst walking over hot coals saturated in nails.
Did I want to get the whole sex thing out of the way? Sure. But that didn’t mean giving it up to the first guy possible. It still had to feel right. I didn’t want a marriage proposal or anything out of it, but if the moment happened to be there, then I would go with the flow but if it wasn’t, then so be it.
I quickly texted Marcus back: Me: Thank you for last night. It was beyond lovely. You have definitely piqued my interest for dinner. Let me know the details x
Pulling on my leggings and t-shirt, I scraped my hair back into a rough ponytail, brushed my teeth, and shoved my trainers on, ready to hound Sophie for breakfast. I burst into the kitchen, surprised to see Luke already sat at the table, munching his way through a bacon and egg sandwich.
“Morning,” he said, his eyes lighting up.
“Hey,” I replied, sitting opposite him.
A plate of bacon, eggs, and sausages, and a loaf of opened white bread sat in the middle of the table.
“I see you’ve started early this morning,” I said, giving him a smile.
“Early bird gets the worms.” He finished his sandwich then asked, “So how was last night?”
I suddenly remembered the message he’d sent me on Facebook. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry. I totally forgot to reply to you on Facebook. I read it just as Marcus turned up and I kinda forgot after that.”
He gave me a thin smile, but I could tell I'd annoyed him. The sparkle in his eyes dimmed somewhat and his smile definitely fake. “That’s ok. I understand.”
I picked my phone up, found his message, then quickly typed a reply. Me: All forgiven, no worries *smiley face emoji*
His phone pinged just as I put mine down. He chuckled. “Seriously?”
“Don’t say I don’t reply.”
He picked it up and read it, his lips tweaking up into a more genuine smile this time. “So what did you do then?”
Slightly suspicious why he was so interested in my evening with Marcus, I indulged him on the details anyway.
“Sounds like it was a good night,” he said.
“It was. He's asked me out again tonight, he wants to take me to dinner.”
I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. Then he cleared his throat. “Oh. Where is he taking you?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I presume you’re going?”
I nodded as I picked up two eggs and a piece of bacon, strategically laying them on my piec
es of bread.
“Have you kissed him yet?”
“Luke Freeman!” Sophie said, hitting him around the head with a newspaper as she walked back into the kitchen. “That is no question to ask a lady. A lady never kisses and tells, right, Caitlyn?”
I grinned. “Right.”
Luke frowned then looked at me and said, “Sorry.”
“It’s ok. No harm done.”
“You want some help again today?”
As I bit into my sandwich, and one of the yolks exploded all down my chin, I looked at him. When I'd finished chewing, I asked, “Is Joanna not in again?”
Luke shook his head. “She’s off sick for a week. Doctors note. Torn a ligament in her knee or something.”
Sophie snorted as she started frying sausages.
“What have I missed?” I asked, taking another bite.
“Every month does something happen where she’s off sick for a week.”
I thought back over all the times I'd stayed here. I'd only ever known her to be off for one week during my summer holiday stay and I’d always presumed that to be booked annual leave. But then again, my other times here were no more than two weeks at a time.
“Really?” I said, swallowing my food.
“Yep,” Sophie replied, accentuating the ‘p’. “Then your poor father has to pick up the slack.”
“Maybe she’s just a sickly type of person. She does have a lot on her plate. I can imagine that takes its toll.”
Sophie muttered something under breath and judging from the frown on her face and the way she stabbed at the sausages in the frying pan, I didn’t want to risk asking her to repeat it.
“Well at least I'm here now to give Dad a break,” I said, hoping it would lighten her mood.
She said nothing further and carried on cooking.
“Do you want me to start on the rooms?” Luke said.
“Don’t you have other things to do first?”
“I can do them later.”
“Sure, that would be a great help. Thanks.”
“No problem,” he said, standing up. “Oh, Cat?”
I took another bite of my sandwich and looked up at him.
He grinned and tapped his chin.
I put my hand to my chin and felt the egg yolk. I nodded at him and laughed. He could have let me wander around all day with egg on my chin, at least he wasn’t that sort.
As I finished my sandwich, Dad wandered into the kitchen in his pyjamas. His eyes were all sunken and black, his skin almost white, and he shuffled like an eighty-year-old man.
“Morning, Dad,” I said, swallowing back the choke of emotions.
“Hello, pumpkin.” He sat down in Luke’s seat and grunted as he did so. “Didn’t sleep too good last night. Feeling it today.”
“Make sure you get plenty of rest then.”
“I can rest when I'm dead,” he said, grinning and giving me a wink.
My heart lurched and my stomach churned with nausea. My entire mood deflated fifty levels. Why did he have to talk like that?
“Shall we have lunch today?” he said, nodding a thank you at Sophie as she put a cup of coffee down in front of him.
I nodded, avoiding eye contact as I struggled to hold back the wave of emotions swelling inside me.
“Meet me here at one then,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.
I nodded and left the table, giving Dad a peck on the cheek as I went past him on my way upstairs to the rooms. Diving into the first room I came across, which thankfully Luke wasn’t in, I rushed into the bathroom, shut the door, and curled up in the corner next to the bath. I had to shed these tears and get this all out before I could carry on.
“Caitlyn?”
I froze as I heard Luke’s voice shouting down the corridor. There was no way he could have heard me. I'd buried my head in my knees and sobbed as quietly as I ever had done. I'd learned to master the art over the years, from my parents’ sticky divorce to being bullied at school.
“Caitlyn?”
His voice grew closer and I held my breath, somehow thinking that would help. The next thing I knew, the bathroom door opened, and his presence alone filled the room.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and quiet. “You ok?”
I nodded, still not looking up.
A large hand settled on my knee causing me to jump. I turned my head, peeking out at him from my left eye.
“Oh, Caitlyn. Come here.”
He wrapped his arms around me and tilted me into his chest. I couldn’t hold back then. I let it all out as Luke just sat there and gently stroked my hair in a soft rhythm. When I'd finally finished, I still stayed there, staring at the blue checked pattern on his shirt, now marred by the wetness of my tears.
“Is he being all matter of fact again?” Luke whispered.
I nodded. “He looks awful today. I told him to rest.”
“And he said he’ll rest when he’s dead?”
The tears welled up again and I nodded.
“He’s been saying that for weeks, sweetheart. We were just as shocked as you the first time.”
“He won’t let me talk about it with him. Said it belongs in Austria.”
A light chuckle shook Luke’s chest. “Austria?”
I managed a small giggle. “Neutral. Anything we don’t want to discuss is now tabooed by saying it’s in Austria.”
“I know it doesn’t make it easier for you, but I think the only way he can deal with it is as a head on reality. Making jokes out of it is his way of coping. I know it’s cruel, but you’ve always got me and Sophie around if you need to talk.”
“Thank you, I really appreciate that.”
He squeezed me tighter and said, “No need to thank me at all.”
I stayed there another few minutes until my brain finally kicked in and told me to pull myself together.
“I’m good,” I said, pulling back and looking up at Luke. “Let’s get these rooms done.”
He glanced down at me, his big brown eyes full of warmth and compassion. “You sure?”
I nodded. “Can’t stay here all day.”
“Well, we could. It just wouldn’t be a productive day in terms of getting jobs done.”
I smiled. “As tempting as that sounds, it’ll only make Dad do it all.”
“That’s a valid point,” he said, grinning. “Come on then.”
I moved so he could stand up. To my surprise, he offered me a hand to help me up. When I put my hand in his, it looked tiny and fragile, like he could crush it without even trying. His hands were surprisingly soft, like crushed velvet. I'd expected hard skin, callouses, and blisters, but there was none of that.
He kept hold of my hand as he said, “You’re a strong woman, Caitlyn. You will get through this.”
I blushed and tried to shake off the intensity of his stare. Something inside me screamed that this would be a perfect moment to kiss but he wasn’t Marcus. Even though nothing official had been declared between me and Marcus, I certainly didn’t want to muddy the waters.
“I clean, you hoover?” I said, wriggling my hand out of his.
A tinge of sadness flickered through his eyes. “Sure.”
Chapter 9
We worked quickly. By the time lunchtime arrived, we only had the top floor, ten rooms, to finish.
“Don’t hurry back,” Luke said. “I’m quite happy pottering around here getting things done.”
“When are you having your break?”
“I’m fine. I don’t need one.”
I opened my mouth to argue then closed it again. Something told me it would be a fruitless effort. “Ok, I'll be back as soon as I can.”
He grinned. “No, you’ll be back as soon as you’re ready.”
I rolled my eyes at him but said nothing more. Feeling like a weight had been lifted from this morning’s sudden downturn, I ran down the stairs, eager to spend some time with Dad. When I all but ran into the kitchen, I was surprised to find the table set like we were
out somewhere having lunch.
The places had been set properly including place mats, with three sets of cutlery, wine glasses, and a jug of ice dowsed orange juice in the middle.
Sophie wandered in from the back door and gave me a warm smile. “Ready for lunch?”
I frowned. “What is this?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Your dad just told me to set the table for a three-course meal and told me what to prepare. I'm merely following orders.”
“Cat,” Dad said.
I turned around to see him coming from his room. He looked brighter and more rested than this morning, but the pain etched into his face and flickering through his eyes became more evident with every step.
“I didn’t realise you meant something like this,” I said, gesturing at the table.
“I thought it’d be nice to sit down and enjoy a proper meal together, in the comfort of our home,” he said, his breaths short and laboured.
Dad used to live in a master suite on the top floor. Well, more like a small apartment; a condensed version of what Luke had done for me in the basement. However, he’d apparently moved downstairs a few weeks ago because he couldn’t handle the stairs.
There had been a sun lounge and a reading lounge next to each other, however, Luke had altered them into one big room just for Dad and his old room upstairs would now be rented out as a prestige suite. It seemed as if the twenty feet from his new room to the kitchen was too now much for him.
I pulled out his chair for him and went to his side to help him to the table. He swatted me away like an annoying fly and tutted at me. All I wanted to do was scream in frustration. Why wouldn’t he let me help him?
“Sophie, love, are the starters ready?”
“Of course,” she said, going to the fridge.
I sat down, my back to the kitchen, and tried not to wince as Dad grunted when he finally sat down. “What’s for starters?”
“Your favourite of course,” he said, clamping a hand over his chest. He was on the verge of wheezing now. “Prawn cocktail, without the cucumber.”
I scrutinised him closely, absolutely ready to jump and give him CPR if need be. “Dad, are you sure—”
“Austria, Caitlyn,” he said, putting his other hand up in a surrender sign. “Please don’t. Let’s just have a nice lunch together.”
Love, Lies and Immortal Ties: A young adult paranormal romance (Love, Lies and Ties Book 1) Page 7