‘Money and a degree doesn’t make you clever.’ His heart ached for her, she looked so lost. When their mum had first fallen ill Amy had ducked out of uni to be with her. She’d bounced from job to job ever since. ‘Why don’t we put a plan of action together tomorrow after work?’
She nodded and as he strode up the stairs to his room to shower off the sea, he felt he’d made another tiny step in the right direction.
Chapter Fourteen
Lottie opened the van door for Chewie who jumped up and went to sit in his basket behind the passenger seat.
‘That’s us finished for the day.’ She glanced at the clock on the dashboard – six o’clock. Gira would be back from work. She’d been on her mind since the last book club. Though she’d joined in, smiled, her eyes had looked horribly sad. ‘Shall we see if Gira’s in?’
Chewie woofed in agreement.
‘This is the quiet lady,’ she reminded him as she pulled into the road. ‘Not the one who makes cakes.’
Chewie wagged his tail, probably because he understood the word cake. She’d like to bet he wouldn’t wag it if they were calling on Matt, instead.
Her mind flashed through images of last Sunday and she pressed a hand to her chest where she felt her heart jump. Matt’s face as he’d seen the windsurf board in the van. His awkwardness as he’d walked out of the hut in his wet suit. Yeah, his body in that wet suit. Lean, muscular, with a bum she really, really wanted to get her hands on. She hadn’t realised bums were her thing, until then.
Matt laughing as he’d hauled himself back onto the board, having fallen in for the umpteenth time. Her heart skipped a beat. That had been the best sight of the day. She’d been right, Shaun had been wrong. After his initial wariness, Matt had been game. More than that, he’d proven he didn’t take himself seriously. When he’d been focused on staying on the board, unable to think about anything else, he’d been fun.
Matt’s expression when he realised he’d said fuck out loud. God, he’d looked so vulnerable, she’d melted.
Matt’s eyes, hot and intense, just before they’d kissed. ‘He wanted me then, didn’t he, Chew?’
Later though? Well indeed. Who says that after such a mind-blowing kiss? A guy who didn’t enjoy it as much as you. ‘Do you think that’s why he was so withdrawn afterwards? He didn’t enjoy it?’ Chewie remained silent. A great companion, but not a great Agony Aunt. ‘And what was with the jealous growl, anyway?’ she asked him as she parked outside Gira’s. ‘You’re the only dog in my life, but I have to be allowed to kiss non-canines occasionally.’
He woofed and clambered over the seat to lick her face. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll make sure to kiss you more.’ The way things were going there didn’t seem to be much danger of her breaking her promise.
Gira looked surprised when she opened the door to them and, Lottie thought sadly, disappointed. ‘Crap, you thought I was Ryan back early, didn’t you?’
She gave Lottie a wan smile as she waved them in. ‘For a brief moment, yes. But then he’d use his key, so it was a stupid notion.’
‘There’s nothing stupid about being hopeful.’
‘Maybe. But putting my head in the sand, hoping everything will be okay, isn’t going to solve anything.’ She put a hand to her face, her expression troubled. ‘Listen to me, you’ve barely stepped through the door and I’m moaning. Sorry, Lottie, it’s lovely to see you.’ Chewie barked and Gira gave him a tired smile. ‘And you, Chewie.’
‘Is now okay for a chat? I don’t want to butt in if you’re busy.’
Gira waved her in. ‘Now is perfect. The kids are both out, apparently doing homework with their friends, at least that’s what they tell me.’
Lottie accepted a cup of tea and as they went to sit in the living room she looked around the neat, uncluttered room with envy. ‘You’ve got a real eye for décor.’
‘Thanks. Ryan pretty much let me choose what I wanted.’ She waved at the inky blue walls. ‘I worried it would be too dark, but I think it works.’
‘It definitely does. And now you’ve mentioned Ryan’s name, I can seamlessly move on to the topic and ask how are things? It doesn’t sound like there’s been an improvement.’
‘Things are worse, if anything.’ She placed the mug on the glass coffee table and looked at Lottie with dark, sorrowful eyes. ‘I had it out with him, asked if he was having an affair. He didn’t just vehemently deny it, he took umbrage and accused me of not trusting him. Now we’re not even talking.’
‘Do you still think he’s seeing someone else?’
She raised her hands in the air. ‘I don’t know what to think. If you’d asked me two years ago I’d have said no way, he wasn’t the sort. But if he’s not out with another woman, he’s still not here, at home, with me. I spoke to his secretary the other day. She let slip she saw him in the bar round the corner from their offices the other night.’ Tears welled in her eyes and she squeezed them shut. When she opened them again, she looked defiant. ‘Enough. I spend too much time thinking about him, wondering what he’s doing. Take my mind off it all and tell me what’s happening with you.’ She angled her head. ‘You look like you’ve caught the sun. Did you get out at the weekend?’
‘Actually, I did.’ She paused, knowing she was in for a barrage of questions but recognising that Gira needed the distraction. ‘I took Matt windsurfing yesterday.’
Gira looked momentarily shocked. Then a slow smile spread across her face and she rose to her feet. ‘This calls for another cup of tea.’
Matt sat at the dining-room table next to Amy, copies of the café’s contracts with vendors stacked neatly between them. When he’d bought the place, he’d kept with the existing vendors, figuring it was easiest.
But Heidi’s cakes were worth making a change for. As was the opportunity to sit down with his sister and work together on something.
‘We’re doing all this and she might not even want to supply us,’ Amy grumbled.
‘True, but at some point we’re going to want to review all the contracts anyway, so the time isn’t wasted. And if she does say yes, you’re going to look very professional.’
Amy glanced at him. ‘I’ll be the one talking to her?’
‘I hope so, yes.’ She needs more than that. Matt searched for the words that would give her confidence and not undermine the fragile truce. ‘For as long as you want it, the café is yours. I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t feel you could run it.’
‘Okay.’ She drew in a breath, nodded. ‘I can do this.’
‘I know you can.’
It was the perfect moment to hug her, kiss her cheek, do something other than smile, but he was too scared she’d back away, so like a coward he stood up. ‘Right, I’d better see how Dad’s getting on in the kitchen.’
‘He’s not happy. When I went to the loo I heard him muttering that if he was cooking, he wanted to choose what to make.’
‘Thanks for the warning.’ They’d agreed to spread the chores out between them and today should have been his turn making dinner, but he’d wanted to catch Amy while she was still keen.
He entered the kitchen warily and found his dad hacking at a chicken breast.
‘What’s wrong with a whole chicken?’ he grumbled without looking up.
‘It doesn’t cook well in a wok.’
His dad grimaced. ‘Why do we need to eat foreign food when this country of ours created the roast? Sausage and mash. Steak and kidney pie. Fish and chips.’
Matt smiled and gently pushed his dad to the side. ‘Because it’s nice to have a change. And because some foreign food, as you put it, is healthier and quicker to make.’
They worked in silence for a while, him chopping, his dad getting out the bowls and cutlery.
‘What about this Shaun fella Amy’s seeing?’
Matt looked up with a start, feeling an irrational burst of jealousy that Amy had confided in her dad, but not him. ‘He’s a friend of Lottie’s. A plumber. They met when he came to fix an issue in
the café.’
‘Is he okay?’
‘Lottie says he’s a good guy.’
‘She does, huh.’ Silence again and Matt held his breath while he turned the chicken in the wok, braced for the inevitable. ‘You seem to get on with her.’
‘You’ve met her,’ he countered. ‘It would be hard not to.’
‘Pretty girl.’
Okay, he was really going there. ‘I think most men would agree with that statement.’
His dad let out a sharp laugh. ‘Bloody hell, son, stop sitting on the damn fence. You like her, admit it.’
Matt pushed down his irritation. A moment ago he’d been annoyed that Amy hadn’t told him about Shaun, yet here he was, keeping his own feelings deeply hidden. It’s how he’d learnt to cope and breaking the habit wasn’t just hard, it felt terrifying. ‘Of course I like her. I can’t imagine anyone not liking her.’ Having had enough of the interrogation, he turned the conversation round. ‘Are you going to come to the next book club for your cake, then?’
His dad looked over from where he’d been setting the table. ‘Is this a ruse to get me to work in the shop?’
Keep calm. Matt carefully slid the chopped peppers into the pan with the now sizzling chicken. ‘No. It’s simply a question.’
‘I might, if I’m free.’
‘And what else might you be doing?’
‘Playing bowls.’
The answer caught Matt off balance. ‘You’ve joined the bowls club?’
‘No.’ He gave Matt a sly smile. ‘But I might.’
Matt started to laugh. ‘Well, I hope you do. And if they don’t play on Thursdays, I hope you’ll come to the shop.’ His dad opened his mouth to speak, but Matt got in first. ‘You don’t have to work. I’ve registered your views on that.’ His dad looked away quickly and busied himself wiping down the worktop that Matt had wiped five minutes ago. ‘Dad?’
‘I heard you.’
There was something else going on that the old man wasn’t telling him. Matt smiled at the irony and sent Patricia a silent apology. If he was as annoying as his father, no wonder he’d been hell to live with. No wonder she gave up on him.
‘You can tell Amy dinner will be ready in a few minutes.’
His dad nodded. ‘She still working on stuff for the café?’
‘Yes. She’s going to ask Heidi, who makes the cakes Lottie was talking about, if she wants to supply the café.’
‘That good, are they?’
Matt smiled. ‘You can find out if you turn up to the next book club meeting.’
His dad swore. ‘Think you’re clever, don’t you?’
Matt’s smile slipped. ‘No, I don’t.’ If he was that much of a genius, he wouldn’t be divorced and all but burned out at the ripe old age of thirty-three.
Whatever his dad saw on Matt’s face, made his expression soften. ‘Well you are, son. You managed to put a spark back on young Amy’s face.’ His voice turned gruff. ‘It’s been a long while since I saw it.’
As he left to find Amy, Matt swallowed down the lump that had slid into the back of his throat.
This, he thought with a flare of hope, was why they’d moved. He had a feeling Shaun was the reason for Amy’s spark, not him or the café, but he’d take the small win. It wasn’t just Amy who seemed happier, either. It might only be Monday but already he was looking forward to Sunday, and spending the afternoon with Lottie. Jammed into a wet suit, being thrown into the sea, glared at by Chewie … he didn’t care. Only that he’d have the chance to see her wide smile again, gaze into those smoke-grey eyes.
And with a bit of luck, ogle her legs.
Chapter Fifteen
How lucky that it was another glorious Sunday, Lottie thought as she tucked Summer on a Sunny Island into her beach bag along with her towel and sun cream. Chewie was guarding the cool bag, which was crammed full of picnic goodies … sausage rolls, pork pies, cheese, ham, pickle, crusty bread. Tomatoes and melon for health. Crisps and cake for joy.
As she opened the door to leave she glanced down at her phone and saw Matt had replied to her text telling him to bring something to read, something to sit on and something to drink.
Book, check. Towel, check. Drink … water or wine?
She smiled as she tapped out her reply.
Your choice L x
Henry wouldn’t have asked, he’d have just loaded a cool box full of beer.
A second later came another text.
Are you drinking it too?
He was so meticulous, careful. She wondered if he’d ever done anything spontaneous. Like get rip-roaring drunk on the beach on a Sunday afternoon.
Yes. So choose wisely L x
Another buzz, and she laughed out loud.
Too much pressure. Maybe we should go windsurfing instead?
‘Why did I ever think he was serious?’ she asked Chewie as she lifted the cool bag over one shoulder and the beach bag over the other. ‘He’s funny.’ It wasn’t the lazy, laid-back humour of Henry and Shaun. Matt’s wit was sharper, drier.
She was starting to enjoy it as much as she was starting to enjoy him.
It was about a mile’s walk to the beach but Lottie didn’t mind it. Chewie was happy, sniffing every bin and lamp post along the prom, and she enjoyed being out in the sun. The anticipation of the afternoon ahead.
They were first to arrive and she opened up the beach hut – it belonged to her parents but they all had a key. After dragging out the blanket, she filled Chewie’s bowl with water. ‘Let’s hope you’re the only one drinking that.’
He looked up, water dripping from his mouth, his eyes adoring. Briefly she wondered what it would feel like to see that look in another pair of deep brown eyes. Then laughed at how ridiculous she was being.
You’re going daft. It must be the sun.
Or maybe it’s him, she thought as she looked up to find Matt making his way towards them. Same smart shorts, same shades. And her body responded with the same answering sizzle in the pit of her stomach.
He was carrying a smart, grey, expensive Yeti drink cooler. She knew it was expensive because she’d admired one in a shop, then baulked at the price and put it down.
As he neared her, he shifted his glasses onto his head and gave an exaggerated look to the left and right. ‘No boards?’
She shook her head. ‘No boards. Just you, me and a picnic blanket.’
‘I like the sound of that.’
God, that slow burn of a smile did it for her every time. ‘Good.’
As if aware he was being left out, Chewie barked and she went to hug him. ‘Sorry – you, me and Chewie.’
‘Your canine chaperone,’ he murmured, giving her a small smile and Chewie a wary glance.
‘You don’t have to worry, you know. He’s a big softie.’
‘I thought so too, until recently. Now I think I’m under surveillance.’
Chewie let out another woof, which made her laugh. ‘You know, if you want to distract him, you only have to let him have one of your shoes.’
Matt’s eyes settled on hers, amused, yes, but with enough heat to make her toes curl. ‘It seems a small price to pay.’
Her skin prickled and suddenly the day felt too hot, her bikini top too tight. ‘What did you choose?’ she asked, nodding to the cooler, her mouth so dry, she had difficulty forming the words. Whatever it was, she needed a big glass of it.
He dropped the cooler onto the blanket and opened it up. Nestled inside she saw a bottle of fizz, a bottle of white and two large bottles of water. ‘Ah, so you didn’t choose.’
‘I wasn’t sure what activity was planned, so it seemed wise to cover all bases.’
She laughed. ‘I can’t argue with that. The only activity I have planned is to eat, read and relax.’
‘Relax.’ He glanced down at the heavy-duty blanket she’d spread out over the pebbles – no soft sand on this beach. ‘On that?’
‘Which part are you not comfortable with – the relax bit, or the s
itting down on a bed of hard, round stones?’
His smile caused the corner of his eyes to crinkle. ‘I’m sure I can manage both.’
It was only when they shifted onto the rug that Lottie realised she wasn’t quite ready to strip off to her bikini. Growing up by the beach, she was used to swimming and sunbathing with her friends, male and female. Sitting next to Matt felt different, though. Not a friend she felt comfortable with, but a man she was acutely aware of.
‘Are you ready to eat?’
He nodded, reaching into the drink cooler to retrieve two plastic wine glasses. ‘Wine, water or champagne?’
‘Champagne?’ When she hung out with her friends they had cans of lager, or occasionally someone would bring a box of wine.
He stared at her blankly. ‘Is that a question or an answer?’
Grabbing a glass, she held it out to him. ‘It’s both. Fill it up please, and while we munch through the pork pies – which, by the way, if I’d known you were bringing champagne, I’d have swopped for smoked salmon – you can tell me which book you’ve brought to read.’
He handled the bottle with the deft ease of a man used to opening champagne, and in seconds her glass was filled with bubbles. With the sun shining down, the gentle waves lapping up the shore, the occasional squawk of the seagulls, it felt like more than a Sunday afternoon on the local beach. It felt special. Something she knew had more to do with the man sitting next to her than the drink in her hand.
‘Richard Osman’s The Thursday Murder Club,’ he answered. ‘As the title suggests, it’s not a romance.’ His lips twitched. ‘And so far I’ve not come across any sex.’
‘How disappointing.’
‘Perhaps not in this case. The main protagonists are all pushing eighty.’
‘I plan to still be having sex when I’m eighty.’ Still? You’re not even having it now. Unconsciously her eyes skated over to Matt, who sat cross-legged next to her, smiling in that cautious way he had. It was different to the smiles he’d given her last Sunday when he’d not had time to think too hard, too busy falling off the board.
The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5) Page 13