‘Oh, right.’ She lifted her arm and glanced down. Heavens. It was conveyor belt man. He was standing on a table below.
He obviously hadn’t realised it was her until that moment either. His frown eased into a smile. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘Hello again.’
He shook his head. ‘You sure know how to make an impact.’
‘Is that a compliment?’
‘I’ll let you know.’ He lifted a chair onto the table. ‘Are you always this accident-prone?’ he asked, climbing on top of it.
‘Not normally. At least, I don’t think so… Maybe I have jet lag?’
‘Maybe.’ He sounded amused. He was now right under her. ‘I’m going to reach up and put my arms around you, okay?’
‘Okay… What do you want me to do?’
‘Nothing. Don’t let go until I tell you to, okay?’
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ She wasn’t stupid. Evidence aside.
When his hands touched her bare legs, she jolted. Bloody hell.
He must have sensed her discomfort, because he said, ‘Sorry, but I can’t see much. Your dress is in the way.’
‘Don’t mind me,’ she said, her voice high-pitched and strangled.
His hands were now squeezing her waist. That wasn’t the worst of it. Oh, no. His face was pressed against her bum cheeks.
Not humiliating at all.
‘Ready to let go?’ he asked.
‘Have you got me?’
‘I guess we’re about to find out.’
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Well… either I catch you and lower you to the chair… or I drop you and we both fall off the table.’
‘Right. Not a great plan then?’
‘I could always leave you here and ring Reception for help?’
‘That could take ages, and I can’t hold on for much longer.’
‘Then we’re stuck with my plan.’
He was right.
Oh, well. Here goes. ‘Good luck.’
He gave a half-laugh. ‘You too.’
She let go.
Time seemed to slow.
What followed was a lot of swearing – by him. And screaming – by her.
They both grappled for balance. The chair below wobbled and slid away. They jolted downwards another few feet.
More swearing from him.
More screaming from her.
And then there was a loud crash as they ended up lying on the table in a very similar position to earlier. Him on his back – her lying on top.
He groaned in pain.
Oh, crikey. Had she killed him? But then she realised he wouldn’t be groaning if he was dead.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, clambering off of him. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ll live,’ he said, trying to sit up.
‘That’s twice you’ve rescued me now. You’re a real hero. You deserve some kind of medal.’
His laugh turned into a cough. ‘I definitely deserve something.’
‘Do you need any help? A glass of water? A doctor?’ She helped him off the table.
‘I’m fine.’ He rubbed his stomach. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Me? I’m fine.’
He stilled and looked at her. Those eyes again. The intensity made her belly flip.
She swallowed awkwardly. ‘Thanks to you,’ she added, suddenly feeling guilty for standing there uninjured while he was in pain. And then she clocked his expression. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? Am I bleeding?’ She checked for injuries.
‘Not blood, no. Err… your dress.’
‘My dress?’ She looked down.
The front of her dress was devoid of buttons and was flapping open like a badly erected tent. Worse than that. Her new lace underwear was on full show, leaving nothing to the imagination.
‘Oh, good heavens.’ She clutched at the loose material. ‘Right… well, thanks for your help. Time to go. Sorry about injuring you… again. My bad. Must try harder, and all that.’ She ran for the French doors, not realising they were closed, and smacked straight into them. Ouch.
‘It’s easier if you open them.’ He limped over and used his key card to unlock them.
‘Right… yes, good to know. Helpful.’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘Essential, I’d say.’
‘You okay?’
‘Absolutely peachy. Couldn’t be better. Top of the world. Firing on all cylinders.’ She yanked open the doors, cringing when she saw the perfect imprint of her lip gloss on the glass.
‘I’ll ring Reception and ask someone to let you into your room,’ he called after her.
‘Thanks. Room 212. The one right above yours.’
‘That much I’d figured. Bye, then.’
‘Bye!’ She ran from the scene, overwhelmed by heat, humidity, and humiliation.
Her breath came in short bursts, her skin prickled with burning shame. Had she lost all semblance of sanity? What was wrong with her?
When she reached her door, she slumped down against it.
So much for a new and improved version of herself.
‘Lily’ was proving to be an unmitigated disaster.
Chapter Four
Monday, 15 March
Will accepted the offer of another beer from the waitress and settled back against the sunlounger. He rarely drank during the day back home, consuming excess amounts of alcohol only happened on the odd occasions he met up with his uni mates. Being a parent required him to remain sober at all times. But for two blissful weeks he was free from his responsibilities and he could let loose. Besides, he needed something to help him unwind.
He closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of the sun heating his skin. He could hear the vibration of humming birds in the surrounding bushes, accompanied by the low throb of reggae music emanating from the poolside bar.
A sudden burst of laughter made him open his eyes. A group of lads were throwing a ball in the pool, their coordination skills hampered by alcohol and the drag of the water.
An overzealous throw saw the ball fly in the air and hit a woman perched on one of the submerged stools surrounding the bar. The lads apologised profusely, their remorse interjected with hysterical laughter.
Will took a gulp of barely chilled beer and smiled. He didn’t mind the beer being warm, or the drunken antics of the lads enjoying what looked like a stag trip. He was just glad to be finally relaxing.
It was the second day of his holiday, but it was the first time he’d been able to properly unwind. A long journey on Saturday, followed by a sleepless first night and the anxiety over leaving Poppy, had left him restless. When he’d finally managed to get some sleep, he’d been plagued by a bad dream.
In the months following Sara’s death, dreaming had been a nightly occurrence. Over time, the dreams had subsided, but it was only in the last couple of years that they’d stopped completely. Or so he’d thought. But the images that filled his head on Saturday night had been as vivid as they had been eight years earlier. Sara lying on a hospital bed, looking serene and unblemished, the extent of her injuries hidden from view. Nurses tending to her, apologising for hurting her when they’d administered injections, even though she couldn’t hear them. Their attentions then turning to him, consoling him when he collapsed in a fit of sobbing, offering him food, water, a listening ear.
The dream ended the way it had done in real life, with the doctor asking him about organ donation, followed by the heartbreaking realisation that his wife was never waking up. Will had woken with a jolt, sweaty and hot, shaking from the recollection.
Consequently, his first day in the Caribbean hadn’t been as relaxing as he’d hoped.
He’d reasoned this was due to missing Poppy. He was bound to be out of sorts. So he’d FaceTimed his daughter, only to discover she was coping a lot better without him, than he was without her. Her first day at camp had been fun and apparently she loved the cabin she was staying in. So much for her not wanting to go.
Despite feeling reassur
ed that his daughter was okay, Will had still drunk himself into a stupor at lunchtime, and spent most of the afternoon in his hotel room asleep.
Thankfully, he’d woken this morning feeling more buoyant, less anxious, and determined to enjoy his holiday.
He’d spent most of the day by the pool, people-watching. In particular, the woman who’d left him bruised and confused on Saturday night. Lily, as he now knew she was called, had arrived at the pool looking like something from a fashion magazine. Big floppy hat, huge sunglasses, and a sheer sarong tied around a skimpy bikini. He’d been mesmerised… along with most of the other men around the pool.
But the elegant and polished appearance slipped when she became entangled with the sunlounger and managed to bang her head on the parasol above. This was followed by knocking over her drink, tripping over her bag, and forgetting to remove her hat before entering the pool. The pièce-de-résistance was watching her attempt Zumba.
The exuberant entertainments officer had spent twenty minutes drumming up business for his class, encouraging the holidaymakers to join him by the pool and ‘get those hips moving.’
Will had declined. He was content to leave his hips where they were – stiff and resting on the sunlounger. But Lily had been persuaded to join the class. She’d looked embarrassed at first, hesitant and uncoordinated, a step behind everyone else, like she had absolutely no concept of what Zumba was. This feeling was compounded when the instructor stood behind her and encouraged her to thrust her hips forward. Her expression was priceless.
It was a puzzle as to why she’d agreed to join in. Like she was forcing herself to ‘have fun’. But whatever the reason, it made him smile. She was certainly entertaining to watch.
Following the exertion of the class, she’d collapsed onto her sunlounger and had remained there since, relaxed and sleepy, soaking up the sun, just as he was.
For some inexplicable reason, his eyes kept landing on her. He could argue that he was simply intrigued. After all, this was the woman who’d nearly disappeared down a luggage chute and had almost fallen from a balcony. Feeling curious about her was only to be expected. But her aptitude for mishap wasn’t the only reason he felt drawn to her. There was an aura around her that he found… attractive. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d found a woman attractive. Well, he could, but there’d been no one serious since Sara.
Sure, he’d met women he found physically attractive. But never anyone who… how could he describe it… fascinated him?
Her outward appearance was current, but there was something about her manner that was slightly dated. Even when she’d been squashed on top of him Saturday night on the balcony, she’d been incredibly polite, profusely apologetic and had used quite formal language. As if she was from a bygone era.
She’d called him a ‘hero’, for God’s sake. He’d been called a lot of things in his thirty-four years, but never a hero.
He glanced over. She was preparing for a swim, untying her sarong and letting it drop to the ground. Jesus.
He wasn’t the only one watching. Although at least he was being discreet, unlike the stag lads who were openly gawping.
She ambled towards the pool, a vision of sophistication, but started hopping about as the hot concrete burnt the soles of her feet. The serene illusion was shattered.
Yelping, she stumbled back to her sunlounger to retrieve her flip-flops.
He smiled. It was probably intrusive to be watching her, but he couldn’t help it. She was good value.
Recovering her composure, she tried again, sashaying towards the pool as if she hadn’t just burnt her feet. She slid out of her flip-flops and lowered herself into the pool, failing to hide her reaction to the cold.
He suppressed a laugh as he watched her swimming lengths. Well, not lengths… widths. And not really swimming, more a hybrid of doggy paddle and trying not to drown. Either way, she was definitely entertaining.
And then something caught her eye. She paused by the edge of the pool, and he followed her gaze to the middle-aged woman seated by the bar – the one who’d been hit by the ball. The woman was unsuccessfully trying to climb off the bar stool.
As if in slow motion, the woman pushed herself off the stool and instantly disappeared under the water.
Will’s first reaction was to laugh. The woman was completely pissed.
But when she didn’t immediately re-emerge, he realised the situation wasn’t funny.
Lily was now splashing towards the woman, shouting something about ‘needing a lifeguard’, but it was lost amongst the noise of the music.
Will looked around for a lifeguard. One was seated by the neighbouring pool, but looking in the opposite direction. There was no time to alert him.
Will got up and raced over to the pool, trying to ignore the heat burning his feet. And to think he’d laughed at Lily. He’d made the same mistake.
Without hesitation, he dived into the pool. Luckily, he was a strong swimmer and reached the bar within seconds. He ducked under the water and grabbed the woman’s shoulders, dragging her to the surface. She immediately began coughing and spluttering, flailing her arms about.
‘You’re okay,’ he said, trying to calm her down. ‘I’ve got you.’
She gasped for air. ‘Help! Help!’
Lily held onto the woman’s arm, helping keep her afloat. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Hayden. You’re safe now. Just try and relax. Breathe slowly.’ She obviously knew the woman. ‘That’s it. Well done,’ she said, in a soothing voice. ‘You see? Drama over.’ She turned and smiled at Will. ‘And you said you weren’t a hero?’
The force of her smile hit him hard in the solar plexus – but that could just be the weight of Mrs Whatshername’s kicking him in the gut. ‘I didn’t do much,’ he said, easing the woman over to the pool’s side.
‘Are you kidding me? You saved her life.’ There was no irony in her voice. It was like she was being perfectly serious. ‘Like I said, a real-life hero.’ Her smile went up a notch and he felt a little light-headed. Must be a lack of oxygen.
Thankfully, the lifeguard then appeared and helped pull the woman from the water.
‘Don’t leave me!’ The woman clutched hold of Lily.
‘I’m not going anywhere, Mrs Hayden. Let’s get you up to your room, shall we? I think you could do with a lie down.’
‘I do feel a little queasy,’ she said, sounding morose. ‘It must’ve been something I ate for lunch.’
More likely something she drank for lunch, but Will didn’t feel it necessary to point that out. ‘Do you need a hand getting her upstairs?’
‘No, I can take care of her. But thanks for the offer.’
The lifeguard eased the woman onto a waiting buggy and they drove off, Lily comforting the woman. He was left standing by the pool.
He needed a lie-down after all that effort.
He headed back to his sunlounger, where he spent the rest of the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep. He occasionally found himself smiling as an image of Lily filled his head. And then he felt guilty because another woman should be occupying his thoughts.
The only female he should be focused on was Poppy. But then, wasn’t the idea of this holiday to take a break from the stress of parenting? Exactly.
He stopped beating himself up and headed up to his room to shower and change.
At eight p.m., he headed down to the buffet restaurant, and afterwards found a quiet spot at the terrace bar to enjoy his beer.
The best part about being abroad was getting to be outdoors at night. There were very few occasions back home when it would be warm enough to sit outside in cargo shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. But here it was still unbelievably warm, the humidity broken only by the occasional gust of breeze and faint movement from the giant fans whirring above.
The terrace was romantically lit, with tealights lined along the walls. Lanterns hung down from the thatched awning above. He’d deliberately chosen an adult-only resort, feeling the need for a more grown
-up environment. He’d figured a hotel full of kids would only make him miss Poppy more. But the flipside of choosing an adult-only resort was that it attracted couples. Honeymooners, in particular, and those wanting a more intimate and romantic setting.
There were a few groups, like the stag party from earlier. But there weren’t many singletons. Which meant he felt both conspicuous and incredibly lonely.
He knocked back his beer.
The terrace lights suddenly switched from low-key to pulsating. The atmosphere changed as the space was lit by flashing blue and red lights. Soft melodic music shifted into a thumping beat. Then a DJ appeared behind a mixing desk wearing headphones and announced it was, ‘Paaaarty time!’
Will swivelled on his stool to watch the outdoor space fill with people. It was as if someone had opened a floodgate. The once quiet space now vibrated with noise.
A group of women danced together, as did a few couples. Even the stag lads – who looked half-cut were moving – albeit like a scene from The Inbetweeners. But they were all put to shame by the staff and locals, who made dancing look as easy as breathing, their bodies grinding to the music effortlessly.
And then he spotted Lily.
She was wearing a long clingy red dress with a split up one side and strappy stiletto shoes that she could barely walk in, let alone dance in. It didn’t stop her. She moved about enthusiastically, her big circular earrings bouncing beneath her bobbed hairdo. It was an odd sight. Sexy, yet funny too. She reminded him of one of the bionic Fembots in Austin Powers.
He doubted she meant to be funny. But somehow, he suspected she wouldn’t care. She didn’t look focused on anyone else, she was just having a good time. Good for her. It was an enviable quality.
Two songs later, she discarded her shoes and carried them over to the bar.
It was only after she’d leant across and yelled, ‘Another Pina Colada, please,’ to the barman, that she spotted Will. ‘Oh, hello.’ She perched on the stool next to him. ‘Fancy bumping into you again.’
‘Literally.’
She frowned and then realised what he meant. ‘Oh, you mean, because last time I literally bumped into you?’
Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance Page 5