by Ella Hayes
* * *
Joel scanned the modest sitting room, feeling the twitch of a smile around his mouth. He hadn’t noticed anything about the interior on the way in because they’d tumbled through the door kissing, tugging at buttons and zips, Emilie yanking at his tee shirt. So much for exorcising the ghost of a kiss! Being cool—being friends—had lasted all of five minutes. Having a heart to heart had led to them being literally heart to heart, twice in bed and once in the tub. Maybe it had been inevitable. Playing games on the beach, flirting at the distillery... Last night, Emilie’s kiss had lit a fuse. On the beach when she’d kissed him again—such a tender, irresistible kiss—going with the flow had felt like the easiest thing in the world. But now what?
A sudden ache caught him between the temples. Emilie drew him like a magnet. He felt so completely present in her company, but he wasn’t whole, wasn’t in any kind of place for a relationship. Allowing himself to get attached would be insane, would muddle him up. He was passing through, only here for another couple of weeks, and he needed to solve the puzzle of Astrid, needed to make peace with the past because if he didn’t, he’d never find peace in himself.
He crossed to the kitchen sink, filled a glass, then turned, leaning against the counter. When they’d been making love, something in Emilie’s eyes had made him feel so alive, so wanted, that his lungs had emptied out, but she’d said, ‘No strings.’ No wonder! She’d been through so much with Tom. Tom was the reason she’d run away from him on the path the night before. She’d said she’d felt scared of kissing him because...
He sighed. She hadn’t needed to say the rest. He got it. She was bruised by the past and kissing meant letting someone in, letting someone get close. Usually! He raked his teeth over his lip. They hadn’t discussed rules, but tacitly they’d agreed. They were living in the moment. No strings! He sipped, then set the glass down. He’d never had a fling before. It was all new and a little confusing.
He ran his eyes over the worktop. At the far end there was a fruit bowl stacked with mangoes and bananas, and... He blinked. A Rubik’s cube? He went to pick it up, turning it over, looking at the jumbled squares on every face. That was him! Jumbled up, veins still tingling from that mind-blowing session in the bath. Had sex ever felt that good with Astrid?
He closed his eyes. That second summer on the island, he’d spent a lot of time noticing Astrid’s body. He might have been too shy to ask any of the girls at school out on a date, but he’d been as horny as any other seventeen-year-old boy. He’d caught Astrid checking him out too. There’d been a lot of ‘accidental’ hand-brushing when they’d been folding sails or passing a soda back and forth, then they’d started holding hands and kissing in the boat house. There’d been fire, but had they really been burning for each other, or simply burning with the novelty of teenage love? He felt a cloak of heaviness swathing his chest. He’d learned how to please Astrid in bed, but when was the last time she’d actually looked pleased? He opened his eyes, staring at the swaying palms and the ribbon of sea framed by the window. When had he stopped seeing Astrid, noticing her...and when had she stopped noticing him?
‘Hey!’ Emilie was padding across the floor towards him, smiling. She was wearing loose pants and a lightweight sweatshirt, her hair damp around the edges. Her face was still a little flushed. Her eyes darted to his hands. ‘Whoa! You’ve solved it!’
He looked down, surprised. He hadn’t even noticed his fingers moving.
‘How did you do that so quickly?’ Her eyes were wide. ‘I can’t have been more than two minutes getting dressed.’
He felt a vague uneasiness, like a shadow passing. ‘I was a geeky kid. I practised a lot.’ He swallowed. ‘Is it yours?’
She nodded, taking it from him. ‘My grandmother gave it to me years ago. She found it in a charity shop. Talk about random, but I’m kind of attached to it! I call her Ruby!’ She was twisting it, jumbling it up again. ‘I like the mechanics, the way it slides, but I’ve never been able to solve it!’ She handed it back to him, smiling. ‘Show me how you do it.’
His heart lurched, then a cold wave ran through him. ‘Show them you’re the best, Joel! You’ll beat them all! Get out there, son, and show them.’
‘Joel! Are you okay?’ She was in front of him, a frown settling around her mouth.
He swallowed hard. His pulse was banging. ‘Yes...’ He forced a smile out. ‘Just a flashback.’
‘To...?’
He felt the corners of his mouth tightening. ‘Lars...’
Emilie seemed to hesitate, then she took a breath. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
He looked at her. Gentleness in her eyes, acceptance. It was nothing of a story, yet the memory had made his heart jolt. Maybe he should peel the corner back since talking to her had lightened him before. He shrugged. ‘I got a cube when I was seven. I was fascinated by it, loved the process of solving it. I got pretty quick at it.’
‘How quick?’
‘When I was eight, I was doing it in sixteen seconds or thereabouts.’
She blinked. ‘That’s amazing!’
He felt his gut twist. ‘Lars thought so too.’ He swallowed. ‘He started taking me to speed-cubing events, entering me...’ He swallowed again. ‘I went along with it to please him, but I hated it. When you asked me to show you, it came back. The ridiculous pressure!’ He felt his neck prickling, a distant anger coming closer, building like a storm cloud. ‘I was a quiet kid, shy. I didn’t like being looked at, watched, but Lars was always pushing. If you were good at something, you had to push it to the max. He’d never let a little thing just be a little thing!’
Emilie put her hand his arm. ‘Maybe he was just proud of you. If you were shy, he might have thought that competing would bring you out of your shell...’
Her touch felt soothing, like balm. He drew in a calming breath. ‘Lars was proud, but he couldn’t see that I was happy just getting faster on my own. That wasn’t good enough and competing wasn’t good enough either.’ He took a breath. ‘It’s always been about winning with Lars. I can accept that he’s wired that way, but he’s never been able to accept that I’m not.’
She was frowning. ‘Is that why you didn’t want to go into the family business?’
‘Because of ancient resentment over speed-cubing competitions? No!’ Laughable! He lifted the cube, inspecting each face, then started twisting. ‘I hated those competitions, but I’ve moved on.’ He felt his fingers flying. ‘I don’t do anything because of my father, or to spite him. I didn’t join Larsson Lüning because I had my own business to grow. I’m my own person; I always have been.’ He gave the cube a final twist and held it up, smiling. ‘There you go!’
‘Blimey!’ Emilie’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re a prodigy.’
* * *
‘Here!’ Joel’s eyes were twinkling. ‘Your very first Painkiller cocktail!’
‘Impressive!’ She’d seen Painkiller chalked on boards outside the bars in Road Town, but she’d never had the time or the opportunity for sundowners before. She inspected it while Joel was settling himself beside her on the veranda step. It was rum-based, yellow because of the pineapple juice, opaque because of the cream. He’d garnished it with a slice of orange and a sprinkle of nutmeg. She nudged his shoulder. ‘The freshly grated nutmeg’s a nice touch!’
‘I wanted it to be perfect for you.’ He kissed her softly. ‘You set a high bar.’
The deep look in his eyes swept her back into bed, to the way he’d held her gaze as he’d moved inside her, adjusting his rhythm to every catch of her breath. She felt a blush coming. ‘Not with cocktails. I think you’re the cocktail daddy!’ She lifted her glass, then had a thought. ‘How do you say cheers in Swedish?’
His chin dipped. ‘Skål, but we don’t chink glasses.’
‘What do you do?’
A corner of his mouth lifted and his cute dimple appeared. ‘There�
��s a whole routine...’
‘Go on...’
‘Well, first you must make eye contact and maintain it...’
She fastened her eyes on his, felt a giggle bubbling up in her belly.
His fingers tapped the middle of his chest. ‘And then you lift your glass to here...’
‘Okay.’
‘And then you say...’ His eyebrows were sliding up.
She tried to copy his accent. ‘Skål!’
He laughed roundly. ‘Very good, so, then—’
‘You drink?’
‘No!’ His brow furrowed. ‘First you must nod at the person you’re toasting with.’
She nodded deeply.
‘Perfect!’ His eyes were twinkling. ‘And then you drink.’
‘Hallelujah!’ She took a sip and held it, letting the flavours unwind on her tongue. It was soft, sweet, tangy. Intensely alcoholic. She swallowed. ‘You might have to make more of these—’
‘And, finally...’ He was twinkling at her, holding up a finger.
‘What! There’s more?’
He grinned. ‘You have to nod again.’
‘With the eye contact?’
‘You got it!’ He was laughing, eyes full of soft light. ‘See. Super easy!’
Super easy! That was how it felt, sipping cocktails with Joel. Smiles and easy laughter, his eyes twinkling, but when he’d been talking about his father, his eyes had looked hollow, wounded. His father was a like cloud hanging over him and she wanted to dig deeper, to help him, soothe him, but those impulses were impulses of the heart and this wasn’t meant to be about hearts. This was a fling.
She looked down into her glass, veins skittering, a knot twisting in her belly. She’d opened the door to a throwaway romance, but was she strong enough to keep her heart locked up? She swallowed hard. She thought Tom had ruined her heart, but she could feel Joel, wandering among the debris, looking for a foothold and that wasn’t meant to be happening—
‘Emilie?’ She looked up. He was dangling his glass, elbows parked on his knees, low sun filling his eyes, sharpening his irises into a bright clear blue. So handsome. ‘When am I going to be able to visit your café?’
She felt her heart bump, her thoughts tangling. Even if he was actually being serious, there’d be no café to come to unless Tom paid her out and that was unlikely to happen any time soon. She drew an uncomfortable breath. ‘I don’t know. I only got the idea a couple of days ago...’ She forced out a smile. ‘It’s percolating.’
He jiggled the ice in his glass. ‘But it’s a good idea. You must do it.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I don’t have the money—’ She bit down hard on her tongue. Joel was wealthy. Telling him she was hard up was tantamount to holding out a begging bowl and nothing had been further from her mind. The truth had popped out spontaneously because of the interest in his eyes—his warmth, his friendship, that was all—and now she was mired. She snatched a breath. ‘I mean, not at the moment...’
He frowned. ‘But if Tom is keeping the bistro and you were equal partners, then he owes you money, right?’
‘Yes.’ Tears were thickening in her throat.
He was leaning in. ‘So—he needs to fork out.’
She swallowed hard. ‘It’s complicated.’
He took her glass, setting it down with his own, and then he was taking her hands in his, chafing her fingers gently. ‘What’s so complicated?’
She blinked. ‘Tom can’t pay right now because he’s moving to a bigger place...’ The kindness in his eyes was making her wilt. She felt a tear sliding hotly down her cheek, a wave she couldn’t hold back. ‘Rachel’s pregnant. He’s going to be a father.’ She raked her teeth over her lower lip. ‘It was why he had to come clean about his affair.’
‘Kristus!’ Joel’s fingers tightened around hers.
‘When he told me, I knew I was losing everything—everything I’d worked for and more than ten years of my life—but what hurts the most is that Tom’s going to have a family, just like that, and I’m back to square one.’ Her throat closed and suddenly there was no point trying to hold Joel’s gaze, no point trying to stop her tears.
‘Hjärtat!’ He breathed the word and then she was being folded into his arms, warm and tight and close and it felt so nice, as though she was being protected. Cherished. She didn’t want to move, so she stayed there, talking into his damp tee shirt, feeling steadier with every breath.
‘I don’t know when Tom and I stopped talking about anything other than the restaurant. Towards the end we didn’t even talk about that because it always ended in an argument. We never talked about marriage, or children. It was all work—probably my fault because, for some reason, I’m driven in that way—but it was in the back of my mind, you know. A baby...’ She felt tears clawing at her throat again, sucked in a lungful of Joel’s deep, comforting, smell. ‘It was something for the future. And now that future’s gone.’
He shifted back, easing her away from his chest, his eyes gentle. ‘You’re right, that one has, but the future’s still there. It’s different, that’s all.’ A smile touched his lips. ‘You never know, maybe it will be a better one.’ His eyes held hers for a long second, then he was picking up their glasses. ‘I think we need more Painkiller!’
She took a big breath and wiped her face. She hadn’t wanted to talk about Tom and Rachel and the baby, but Joel had led her to it so gently, and he’d comforted her. In his arms, nothing had felt so bad. She took another breath, feeling opened out. It was a nice feeling, like being out in a summer rain.
‘The future’s still there...’
She got to her feet and stepped on to the veranda, leaning forward over the rail. Joel was right. The future was still there and it was hers for the taking. It was time to start fighting for it, time to pursue Tom for the money because otherwise she’d be dangling, waiting around for ever, and she was tired of waiting. She checked herself, felt a sudden ripple of lightness. She wasn’t harbouring any spite for Tom. She just wanted her money and then she’d be free.
Joel’s footstep scuffed behind her. ‘Here! Another dose should do the trick.’
She smiled. ‘Shall we do the whole skål routine again?’
He leaned over the rail beside her. ‘God, no! Just drink it!’
She sipped, breathing in the soft, fragrant air. The sea was a low gush. A bird chivvied its way through the nearby hibiscus bush and another bird broke cover, taking flight with a stuttering, indignant cry. Everything felt mellow, or maybe it was the second cocktail loosening her joints, smoothing out her creases. Joel was staring into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes. The breeze took his hair, blowing it across his eyes, but he didn’t seem to notice. She sighed. She’d feel easier about the whole fling idea if just looking at him didn’t fill her up to the brim.
He shifted suddenly, fixing serious eyes on hers. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
She nodded.
‘If there hadn’t been a baby...if Tom had told you he was having an affair, would you have fought for him?’
Her mind blanked. It was a question she hadn’t asked herself, a question that seemed too big to answer. She drank the last of her cocktail and parked the glass by her feet. ‘I don’t know... I’d have to think about it.’
He sighed. ‘You were in a no-win situation, but I wasn’t.’ He pushed his hair away from his eyes. ‘I could have fought for Astrid and I didn’t.’
She pressed her lips together. He might not have fought for Astrid at the time, but he wasn’t letting go either. ‘Maybe you felt too hurt. Betrayed! I mean, even if Astrid wasn’t actually having an affair, there must have been a moment when you felt turned over, too beaten to fight...’ She sighed. ‘Or maybe you could just see that there was no point.’
A shadow lengthened be
hind his eyes. ‘Maybe I was indifferent.’ He swallowed. ‘Scary seeing as I was about to get married.’
It was hard seeing him turning on himself like this. She reached for his hand. ‘I suppose the thing to hold on to is you were sure once... I mean, you did propose.’
‘I was twenty-three.’
She bit her lips together. Cynicism on his voice. He was on a downward spiral, and what could she possibly say that wouldn’t make him feel worse? To be engaged so young. To be engaged for so long... Why weren’t they married already? She wanted to know, but sharing more confidences would only make her feel closer to him and the writing was on the wall. He’d said he felt numb about Astrid, but he was churning away over her all the same. Astrid was on his mind, probably still in his heart too. For her own sake she had to put her heart back on its leash.
He shifted on his feet. ‘Emilie, I’m going to go.’
She nodded. He clearly needed some space, and she did too. No ties! She stepped in, went up on her toes and kissed him softly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow then.’
For a split second, his eyes flickered, maybe with hesitation, and then he smiled. ‘Yes. Maybe I could take you sailing...’
CHAPTER TEN
One week later...
JOEL DRAGGED THE catamaran up the beach, then crashed on to the sand, pulling in long, deep breaths. His heart was pounding. He’d just pitchpoled spectacularly, turtling the boat, winding himself.
He inhaled slowly, filling his lungs, feeling his pulse steadying. Sailing while distracted was never a good idea! He should have been watching the swell, throwing his weight aft in time to stop the starboard hull nosing under, but instead he’d been thinking about Emilie, about the first time he’d taken her sailing.
He felt a smile coming. That giddy excitement on her face as the hull had risen high into the air. She’d been laughing and shrieking as he’d tooled the boat across the water, playing the mainsheet, flying the hull. Flying! That had been his heart too. Seeing her so crazy-happy had filled him to the brim.