Someone Like You: Escape with this perfect uplifting romance

by Tracy Corbett

  He laughed and handed her the virgin cocktail, which glowed through the glass like yellow kryptonite. ‘Me neither.’

  ‘But you came anyway?’

  ‘I have to, I’m the boss. Plus, it’s good for morale. Things have been a bit tense of late. I thought everyone needed to unwind.’

  She added a straw to her glass. ‘Then it’s been a success.’

  ‘But not for you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’ She sipped her drink, flinching at the sweetness. ‘I’m completely chilled.’

  His lips twitched. ‘I’ve seen less tension in a bed spring. You look like you’re expecting Armageddon.’

  Well, she was. Her secret could be exposed at any moment. Megan had already guessed, it was only a matter of time before everyone else did. ‘That’s just my natural state.’

  The barman handed Will his beer.

  He turned to her. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers.’ She lifted her glass. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

  His eyes lingered as he watched her. ‘Is it being around me that makes you tense?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think you weren’t this tense on holiday.’

  ‘Nobody’s tense on holiday. That’s the point of holidays.’

  ‘True.’ He took a slug of beer and leant on the bar, fixing her with an intimate gaze. ‘So why don’t we pretend we’re not in a pub in Windsor, but somewhere exotic, like stranded on an isolated island somewhere in the Caribbean.’

  She pointed to the amusements. ‘That has a Union Jack pool table?’

  He grinned. ‘Use your imagination.’

  ‘I don’t have that much imagination.’

  ‘Sure you do.’ He touched her arm. The warmth of his hand connecting with her skin sent a shiver racing up her arm. ‘Close your eyes.’

  She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why?’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘Fine.’ With a sigh, she closed her eyes.

  His fingers curled around her arm. ‘Can you hear the waves?’

  ‘Nope. But I can hear the beeping of slot machines.’

  ‘Concentrate.’

  ‘I’m trying.’

  ‘Can you smell coconut?’ He’d moved closer, his voice right by her ear. ‘And fresh mango?’

  ‘Do sweaty armpits count?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And before you ask, I can’t hear steel drums either.’

  ‘You’re rubbish at role-play.’

  She opened her eyes, startled. ‘I didn’t realise that’s what we were doing.’

  He smiled. ‘I’m trying to get you to relax.’

  ‘It’s not working.’

  ‘Clearly.’ He stepped away.

  It wasn’t her fault. How was touching her and whispering in her ear supposed to relax her? Her body was vibrating, every nerve ending on alert, anticipating his next move.

  Just when she thought he’d given up, his free hand slipped into hers. ‘Come with me.’

  She probably should object. After all, past experience had shown she had zero resistance when it came to rejecting his advances. If he kissed her, she was toast. But his hand was warm and smooth and she didn’t have the energy to fight him. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘When you were this tense on holiday, only one thing worked.’

  ‘And that was?’

  ‘Physical activity.’

  She stopped. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said, in a hushed voice. ‘I meant adventure sports.’ But then he paused, as if struck by a thought. ‘Although now you come to mention it, sex might also do the trick.’

  She pinned him with a look. ‘Or not.’

  He winked. ‘Worth a try.’

  ‘There are no adventure sports here.’ She nodded to the various games, anything to avoid looking at him. ‘There’s nothing risky about trying to hit a pop-up rabbit with a hammer.’

  ‘But it might stop you overthinking.’

  ‘I doubt that.’

  Without warning, he bent lower and kissed the side of her neck, his lips trailing up her neck and ending up next to her ear. ‘And help you loosen up,’ he whispered.

  She stepped away. Not because it wasn’t nice. But because it was too nice. She only had so much control. ‘I doubt that, too.’

  He shrugged. ‘If nothing else, I get to hang out with you.’

  ‘Which is a puzzle in itself. You don’t like this version of me, remember?’

  ‘No, it was timid Lily I didn’t warm to. Prickly Lily is just fine.’ He steered her towards the basketball game. ‘Although I don’t think she’s the real you, either.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  He positioned her in front of the hoop. ‘Because I’ve seen beneath the prickly exterior.’ He put a pound coin in the slot. ‘A happier less defensive Lily lurks within.’

  ‘How do you know she’s not the fake? Maybe prickly defensive Lily is the real me.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He handed her a ball. ‘Shoot.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That’s the point of the game.’

  ‘No, I mean why are you so sure prickly Lily isn’t the real me?’

  A shrug. ‘Gut instinct.’ He nodded at the hoop. ‘And your minute is ticking by.’

  ‘Your instincts are wrong.’ She threw the ball. It bounced off the rim and into the gully below.

  He handed her another ball. ‘What are you hiding?’

  ‘Nothing.’ Lying did nothing for her aim. Another miss.

  ‘Something’s making you jumpy.’ He handed her another ball. ‘You look like a fugitive on the run, forever checking over your shoulder, waiting to be found out.’

  ‘Rubbish.’ The ball smacked against the backboard and disappeared into the gully.

  ‘Then why are you blushing?’

  ‘It’s hot out here.’

  ‘Come on, tell me.’ He handed her another ball. ‘What evil crime have you committed?’

  ‘Your theory is way off. I’m not hiding anything.’ The ball hit the rim again.

  ‘A string of ex-husbands?’

  ‘Never been married.’ She snatched the next ball from him.

  ‘Criminal record?’

  ‘Squeaky clean.’ She threw the ball. It missed.

  ‘Gambling addiction?’

  ‘Never been in debt.’

  He handed her another ball. ‘Cheated on your exams?’

  She threw the ball. ‘So I could obtain C grades? Hardly worth the effort.’ The bell rang announcing the end of the game. She’d scored nil points. ‘See? Below average. Even at ball games.’

  ‘What then? There is something you’re not telling me.’

  She picked up her drink and took a long sip, wishing he wasn’t so astute, and that her drink contained alcohol. But that might loosen her tongue, and she needed to keep her wits about her. ‘Are you sure you’re not deflecting?’

  He frowned. ‘How d’you mean? I’m an open book.’

  ‘Really?’ She decided it was time to turn the tables. ‘There are no skeletons lurking in your closet?’

  He broke eye contact immediately.

  Interesting.

  She studied his face. He looked shifty. ‘Now who’s blushing.’

  He walked off. ‘This isn’t about me.’

  She followed him. Like hell it wasn’t. ‘Well, maybe it should be.’

  He stopped by the air hockey table. ‘I’ve nothing to hide.’

  ‘No?’ She picked up a slider. ‘So no ex-wives lurking about?’

  Whoa! It was like she’d just accused him of murder, or something. He stilled, his face darkening and his brow creased into a frown. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. A beat passed, before he said, ‘No ex-wives,’ and shoved a pound coin in the machine.

  She waited until he was ready and then hit the puck, sending it flying down the table. ‘You know, my grandma used to say, “if a man hasn’t settled down by the age
of thirty, he never will.”’

  He sent the puck flying back to her. ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Some men aren’t cut out for commitment.’ She swiped at the puck, rattling it down the table. ‘They like to play the field. Maybe the chase is more fun than sticking around.’

  He hit the puck with force. ‘I stick around.’

  She had to stretch to reach it. ‘How many serious relationships have you had?’

  He hit the puck. ‘One.’

  One? That was a surprise. He seemed like the ‘commitment’ type. Not that she was an expert. Far from it.

  She glanced at the puck, pushing it back to him. ‘When did it end?’

  ‘Eight years ago.’ He smacked the puck so cleanly she had no chance of returning it. She watched as it fired past her into the waiting goal mouth.

  She looked up at him. ‘Struck a nerve, have I?’

  He set up another game.

  So it was okay for him to interrogate her, but not the other way around.

  He picked up the slider. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  He slid the puck across to her, with a lot less force than before, some of the fight deserting him.

  She returned it, matching his slower pace. ‘And there hasn’t been anyone since?’

  His eyes stayed focused on the table. ‘There’s been a few.’

  ‘But nothing serious?’

  He mis-hit the puck and it disappeared in the goal mouth. ‘Damn.’

  She placed her slider on the table. ‘Then I rest my case.’

  He scowled. ‘That’s not fair,’ he said, marching over. ‘I’ve been busy working. And trying to… to…’ He trailed off, almost as if he’d been about to admit something, but changed his mind.

  ‘Trying to…?’

  He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I haven’t had time for romance.’

  ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  His eyes locked on hers. ‘Meaning?’

  It was time to stand her ground. ‘Meaning, you have your secrets. I have mine. And neither of us, it seems, feels much like sharing.’

  They stayed like that for a good few seconds. Staring down at each other, inches apart. Lily fought the urge to continue fighting, or worse, to cave into the chemistry radiating between them and pick up where they’d left off a week ago.

  As it was, the moment was broken by Frankie appearing and informing Will that his services were required to deal with a lighting engineer who’d consumed too much beer.

  Lily watched him walk off.

  He didn’t look back.

  She wasn’t sure whether she felt relieved… or disappointed.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sunday, 25 July

  Will wasn’t sure how he felt about having a free Sunday to himself. He should be glad of the break. The week ahead building up to the festival was going to be manic, no doubt about it. So the chance to relax and savour the good weather and enjoy the ambience of Windsor on a summer’s day should be welcome. But his Sundays were usually reserved for Poppy.

  Not today.

  Today, Poppy had uncharacteristically accepted the offer to attend the country club with her grandparents and have her first ever tennis lesson. And no one was more surprised than him.

  ‘I’m feeling braver,’ she’d told him, when he’d dropped her off at her grandparents’ house this morning and queried whether she really wanted to go to the club, or whether she was just doing it to please her family.

  ‘Learning new things can be fun,’ she’d said, giving him a reprimanding look. ‘Maybe you should try doing something new, too… like dating a nice lady who might turn out to be the one.’ This statement has been accompanied by a knowing look, making her seem a lot older than her tender years.

  He hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry. He was being given dating advice by his eleven-year-old daughter. But before he could give her his usual spiel about how ‘it wasn’t that simple’, and ‘you couldn’t force these things’, she’d patted his hand and said, ‘Why don’t you ask Lily on a date?’

  Despite never having met the blessed woman, and only ever having heard her name mentioned once, his daughter seemed fixated on the idea of them becoming a couple.

  It was insane.

  Before he could dismiss the idea, she’d said, ‘I know you said you didn’t fancy her, but you might never see her again after next weekend.’ At this point, she’d climbed out of the car as though she was the adult and he was the kid. ‘And wouldn’t that be a shame?’

  What had happened to his timid little daughter? She’d turned into a dating guru.

  Maybe it was the success of being in the school play?

  When he’d shown up at the school hall on Wednesday evening expecting to witness a shy and mumbled performance, his daughter had surprised the hell out of him by boldly delivering her lines and not making a single mistake.

  It helped that she looked the part. Her Mad Hatter outfit was the standout costume of the show. He had no idea where Zac had managed to find such a quality costume at such short notice, but he would be forever grateful. Partly, for bailing him out of a huge bad parent-shaped hole, but mostly for the confidence wearing it had given Poppy. She’d strutted about the stage like a little diva, completely in character, leaving Will wondering what on earth had happened to evoke such a change.

  Whatever the reason, he had to admit she was right about Lily. Time was of the essence. He did fancy her, however much he tried to convince his daughter that he didn’t. Which is why he’d texted her this morning and asked her to meet him down by the river.

  After all, what did he have to lose? Even his twenty-one-year-old nephew was getting more action than he was, and with a hot actress, too. Something he was still trying to get his head around.

  Lily arrived bang on time, ambling down the path by the river’s edge wearing a white cotton summer dress, flowery plimsolls and a large floppy hat. He had a flashback to the Caribbean and how she’d dressed on holiday. Stylish, confident, sexy and assured.

  It gave him hope. Maybe fun-loving, easy-going Lily was back?

  The sunlight made her glow again. The weeping willows trailing along the water added to the serene picture, aided by the fleet of swans floating down the river… It was the perfect backdrop. The ideal setting for a last-ditch attempt to win her over… which she ruined instantly, by saying, ‘I assume you have a bloody good reason for getting me out of bed at the crack of dawn on my one day off?’

  Not entirely the old Lily, then.

  He sighed. ‘I do, as a matter of fact. I thought we could go boating.’

  Her eyes grew wide. ‘Boating?’

  ‘Yes, you know, something fun and relaxing. A chance to enjoy the surroundings and reconnect.’

  Her bag slid off her shoulder and hit the ground. ‘I thought we’d agreed reconnecting was a bad idea?’

  He got up off the bench. ‘No, you said the reason we weren’t getting on was because we hadn’t been our true selves on holiday. And I’m here to prove that’s not the case.’

  ‘By boating?’

  ‘By removing the stresses of work and deadlines, and creating a relaxed non-pressurised environment where we can be ourselves.’

  ‘And you think boating will achieve that?’

  He picked up her bag. ‘As someone recently pointed out to me, in a week’s time the festival will be over, and you and I will never have reason to see each other again.’

  She glanced away. ‘Well, you know… every cloud, and all that.’

  ‘So you’re happy to walk away? No regrets?’ He took her hand. ‘Because that’s not what I want.’

  She stepped back, dislodging his hand. ‘There’s no point. It won’t work.’

  ‘Why? Because you don’t want me? Or because you don’t think we have a future?’ He lowered his voice. ‘Or is it because you think I won’t want you if I got to know the real you?’

  ‘Exactly.’ She looked exasperated. ‘There are things about me y
ou don’t know.’

  He shrugged. ‘That’s the same for me, too.’

  ‘Not… good things.’

  ‘You think I don’t have flaws? Believe me, I have. But I’m not about to reveal all my failings in one go. Nobody does that. Not any sane person, anyway. Getting to know someone is about learning the good stuff as well as the bad. I don’t expect you to tell me all your secrets straight off. That’s okay. Can’t we spend some time together and just chill.’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘Chill?’

  ‘Yeah, you know, enjoy each other’s company. No pressure.’

  ‘You mean as… friends?’

  ‘Friends works for me,’ he lied. But at that moment he was prepared to accept anything on offer. Sad creature that he was.

  She sighed. ‘I have a feeling I’m going to regret this.’

  ‘The boats are this way.’ He pointed towards the jetty. ‘Rowing boat? Or motorboat?’

  ‘Rowing boat.’

  ‘Rowing boat, it is.’

  They walked down the path like a regular couple out for a Sunday morning stroll. He had an urge to take her hand but figured that wasn’t what a ‘friend’ would do.

  Instead, he tried to enjoy the moment. He’d missed this. Walking with a woman. Taking in the sights of nature. It was such a simple pleasure. ‘Pretty, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very.’

  To their left the pathway was edged with thick shrubbery, lined with rose bushes and trees, masking the road noise beyond. ‘Alexandra Park is the other side,’ he said, searching for ‘friendly’ conversation. ‘The main festival site for next Saturday.’

  She glanced over. ‘I remember.’

  He pointed to the other side of the Thames. ‘That’s where the funfair will be set up.’

  She shielded her eyes from the sun. ‘Funfair?’

  ‘The final event of the festival. They’ll be fireworks and all the usual attractions. You know, bumper cars, big dippers. Even a roller coaster.’ He was about to add that Poppy was looking forward to experiencing the rides, but stopped himself. He still hadn’t mentioned his daughter. But now wasn’t the time for confessing. Things were still too fragile between them. Maybe later.

  She looked across the water. ‘How do you get to the other side?’

  ‘Eton Bridge.’ He gestured behind him. ‘Further that way, towards Riverside Station.’