Sunrise on the Coast: The perfect feel-good holiday romance (Island Romance Book 1)

by Lilac Mills

  ‘What?’ she hissed, knowing it was most likely Alex on the other side of the door. Hugo would have made too much noise getting out of bed (not his fault; he still struggled with that particular movement) and she would have heard him.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Alex’s voice was soft through the door.

  She clambered off the bed, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror. Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes red and puffy, and her nose was red and sore. She looked awful, a total mess. She had an urge to dab on some make-up and run a brush through her hair, but she shoved it away. Why should she care what she looked like? And the more hideous she looked, the more Alex might realise how much he’d upset her.

  ‘What do you want?’ She opened the door a crack and peered out. ‘If you want me to leave, I’ll…’

  ‘What is it with all this talk of leaving?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You keep mentioning it. Have I said I want you to leave?’

  ‘Isn’t that what you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh. What then?’

  ‘May I come in? Or you can come out? How about a glass of wine on the terrace? We can speak there without waking Hugo.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why do you want to talk to me?’

  ‘I thought it would be obvious.’

  ‘Not to me it isn’t.’

  ‘About the letters you found.’

  ‘Oh, I see… you’re saying I found them now, are you? You’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘I might have been a bit hasty,’ he admitted. ‘Have you been crying?’

  ‘Duh.’

  His gaze was soft as it lingered on her face. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t give you a chance to explain.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘Would you like to explain now?’

  Would she? Yes, she thought she would. It would serve Alex right if he felt guilty when she told him how she’d come to find the statements and letters. And she was looking forward to receiving a grovelling apology from him.

  ‘White wine?’ she asked, suddenly thirsty.

  ‘You can have whatever colour wine you like.’

  ‘Give me a minute.’ She shut the door on him and spent the minute, plus a few extra, making herself a little more presentable.

  When she joined him on the terrace, Alex had poured her a glass of chilled white wine and was sitting on one of the decrepit loungers, his eyes closed.

  She picked up the glass, took a large mouthful, and sat down.

  ‘You weren’t snooping, were you?’ he said, his eyes still firmly shut. He probably didn’t want to have to look at her poor ravaged face and see the damage he’d done, she thought.

  ‘No. I’d decided to give Hugo’s room a thorough clean. I found those letters when I swept behind his chest of drawers.’

  He opened his eyes and gave a small laugh. ‘Do you mean to say you managed to move that monstrosity all by yourself? It weighs a tonne. It’s old too. I remember it from when I was a child.’

  ‘It took some shifting,’ she admitted, ‘and there was enough dust and other stuff behind it to fill a skip. I think the letters were originally taped to the back, but they’d fallen off. I only looked at them to make sure I wasn’t about to throw out anything important.’

  ‘I thought there would be a reasonable explanation,’ he said.

  ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I’m sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I didn’t mean to, but when you said you were going to live with Dominic Brockman, I kind of flipped.’

  She frowned. ‘Why would that bother you?’

  ‘You kissed me.’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘You kissed me too.’

  ‘Was it so bad?’

  Sophie hesitated. ‘It was lovely. But your life is in Iceland, and mine might be here or in the UK.’

  ‘You haven’t decided?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you and Dominic…?’ He let the sentence hang in the air.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, I thought…’

  ‘He’s a friend.’

  ‘But you still might move in with him?’

  ‘I might not have any choice if I want to remain in Tenerife.’

  Alex’s expression was thoughtful, his attention on the dark water beyond the balustrade. Sophie tore herself away from staring at him. She’d been drinking him in, trying to memorise every line of his features, every curve, every lock of hair. He was already emblazoned on her heart, but she wanted to make sure his image was seared on her mind, in case she never saw him again.

  ‘Poor Hugo,’ he said, bringing her focus back to what really mattered.

  ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘One or two. But I need to speak to him, and I hope he’ll be honest with me. He’s a proud man, independent. No one in the family knew he needed a new hip. No one realised he was having problems with the plantation. It’s not a huge farm, as farms go, but it has been enough for him to live on. I spoke to my parents when I first arrived and saw the state of things here, and they had no idea either. The problem is, I don’t think he’ll be able to cope even when he is back to full fitness. This much land is too much for one man.’

  ‘But what’s the alternative? Surely you don’t mean for him to sell up?’

  ‘Preferably not. I’ll have to see what I can do.’

  ‘But this is his home! He loves the villa. What if—’

  ‘Sophie?’ His voice was low and soft, and the way he said her name made her pulse race and her insides melt.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  Actually, she did. She didn’t trust him with her heart, but she did trust him to do his best for Hugo. It was clear that he loved his uncle. It was also clear that he was leaving tomorrow, and his destination was God knows how many thousands of miles away (just over four thousand, actually – she’d looked it up). She hoped he’d be able to work something out, despite that.

  She put her empty glass down, not remembering having drunk the contents, and got to her feet. It was time she went to bed. She’d done all she could and at least she and Alex would be parting on good terms.

  ‘What time is your flight?’ she asked.

  ‘Seven thirty-five in the morning.’

  ‘Do you need a lift to the airport?’ She felt she should offer, although she wasn’t certain she could face it.

  ‘I’m fine. One of the guys from INVOLCAN is picking me up.’

  ‘OK. Well, I guess I should say good night.’

  He rose from the chair in one fluid movement and took a step towards her. ‘You’ll look after him, won’t you?’

  ‘You know I will.’

  He nodded. Then took another step until he was so close that she thought she could hear his heart beating.

  When he opened his arms, she didn’t hesitate, her body moulding to his as his lips found hers, and when he kissed her, she lost herself for long, long moments.

  Releasing him and walking away was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

  She didn’t look back.

  Chapter 27

  It was dark and quiet, except for the eternal sound of the waves and the soft movement of the breeze through the leaves of the palm trees in the garden. The sun wouldn’t be up for a few more hours yet and Sophie was sitting on the same lounger that she’d sat on earlier, a lukewarm mug of coffee in her hand and a blanket around her shoulders. Paco had draped himself next to her, his rear end on her feet, his nose on her shoulder, and she was grateful for his warmth. It wasn’t cold as such, but she’d been out there for ages and the nights in Tenerife at this time of year could be a little chilly.

  She wished the dog could warm her insides too, because her heart felt as cold as one of Iceland’s glaciers. So what if she’d spent half the night looking at images of the country, and imagining Alex striding over a lava field, or walking down a street in Reykjavik? This vigil was her way of saying goodbye to him, becaus
e she had no intention of saying it to his face. She wouldn’t be here, for a start.

  Stiffly, with some protesting from the dog, she got to her feet.

  She was fully dressed and all she needed to do was slip a jacket on and stuff her feet into her pumps. Paco could come with her. Despite his grumbling at being disturbed, she knew he’d be up for a walk.

  Leaving a brief note saying she was out for an early morning walk with Paco, which was aimed at both Alex and Hugo, she called softly to the dog and the pair of them slipped silently out of the door.

  She thought she heard a noise coming from the depths of the house, but she ignored it. There was no point in drawing anything out, prolonging the pain. The time she’d spent in Alex’s arms last night had been a perfect way to say goodbye. There was no need for any words this morning. Besides, she had a feeling she might cry, and she didn’t want Alex to see she was upset.

  The sea didn’t care what she felt, and she was drawn to its indifference. It carried on breaking over the rocks, oblivious to her sadness, as tears gathered in her eyes and slowly spilled over to trickle down her already damp cheeks.

  ‘I wish you were here, Mum,’ she whispered into the darkness. She missed her mother terribly, and she suspected she would miss her for the rest of her life. But in the early hours of this particular morning, her grief was especially raw and close to the surface.

  She made for the headland where she’d watched Dominic bodyboarding and chose a rock to perch on, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on them. Paco plonked down beside her with a soft whine and cuddled in close. She turned her head to look at him for a moment, her sad gaze meeting his gentle eyes, then she turned back to stare out to sea.

  The occasional rumble of distant engines reached her from the road, only just discernible above the waves, and when she eventually heard one of them idling, then the slam of a car door, she swallowed. This was it, Alex was leaving, out of her life for good.

  She remained where she was as she imagined his journey to the airport and his wait in departures. Did he think of her while he drank his coffee as he was waiting to board? Or was his mind on Iceland and what (who) waited for him there?

  Seven thirty. He’d be taking off in a minute. The flat silver light of dawn had spread across the sky, driving the night away, and one by one the stars had disappeared.

  Seven thirty-five. The sky was cloudless, promising another lovely day.

  Seven forty. There was a flashing light high above, moving from south to north, and the faint noise of a jet engine. She watched it, her eyes following its progress. It wasn’t the first aircraft she’d watched leave Tenerife this morning and she had no idea whether Alex was on this one or not, but she continued to watch until it had climbed too high and travelled too far to see any more.

  And still she sat there.

  Hugo would be fine for a while. He was able to get himself out of bed and his breakfast would consist of fruit, ham, cheese and olives, which didn’t need much in the way of preparation, so she could stay out here for a while. Anyway, he might not even be awake yet.

  Eventually, reluctantly, she levered herself stiffly to her feet, dusted off the backside of her jeans and headed for home, her heart heavy, her soul aching.

  But for all her sorrow and the pain that was yet to come, she had no regrets. She’d hold the memory of Alejandro and their embraces close, and some day, when she felt able to, she’d bring it out and look at it, and imagine what might have been.

  Chapter 28

  ‘You need to get a life,’ Hugo told her.

  Sophie stopped hoeing and wiped the beads of sweat from her upper lip, before turning around. ‘Get a life? Where did that expression come from?’

  ‘One of your English radio programmes. I mean it. You are young, pretty. You should not be stuck here with an old man.’

  ‘I’m not “stuck”. I chose to be here, remember? It’s a job. I’m not just doing this,’ she gestured towards the soil she was grubbing about in, ‘out of the goodness of my heart.’ Actually, that wasn’t true, but she could see that Hugo was feeling guilty and she didn’t want to add to that.

  ‘It has been five days,’ he said.

  ‘What has?’

  Hugo gave her a knowing smile. ‘Since Alejandro left.’

  ‘Has it?’ She tried to sound nonchalant but was fairly sure she was fooling no one.

  He made a derisive sound and Sophie returned to her gardening, pretending to ignore him and his insinuations.

  ‘What about Dominic Brockman?’ he asked. ‘You like him, yes?’

  She shrugged. ‘I suppose.’ Was now the best time to tell Hugo that Dominic had offered her a place to stay once her time at the villa was over? She still hadn’t come to any decision – her mind had been too full of trying not to think about dark, liquid eyes and full, warm lips. She was nearly halfway through the three months which had been agreed on. She had to start planning soon. Procrastination wasn’t going to help.

  ‘I’ve… er… Dominic has…’ She trailed off and cleared her throat nervously.

  Hugo continued to watch her, his expression inscrutable. He reminded her of Alex.

  ‘Dominic has suggested I move in with him,’ she finally said in a rush. ‘When you don’t need me any longer. Just as friends,’ she added. ‘There’s nothing going on.’

  ‘And are you going to do this?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you miss England?’

  ‘Hardly! It’s cold. It’s probably raining too.’ She didn’t miss England, what she missed was her mum. And Alex.

  Hugo must have sensed her mood, because he said, ‘When I am better, I shall prepare a special meal for us.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes, me. Did you think I lived on bread and water before you came here?’ He chuckled heartily. ‘I can cook.’

  ‘Great! What are we having?’

  ‘It will be traditional Canarian food,’ he promised.

  She suppressed a smile. Clearly her cooking was too traditionally British for him, and he was craving some decent local food. She wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but if he were to supervise, she was sure she could make a decent job of whatever dish he fancied.

  ‘If you tell me what we’re having, I’ll cook it,’ she offered. ‘That’s what I’m here for.’

  ‘You are not a slave. I shall cook.’ He thumped his chest, his expression stubborn.

  ‘OK, but at least let me help.’

  ‘We shall see,’ he said, and she had to smile – her mum used to say the same thing when she meant ‘no’ but wanted to avoid being pestered.

  God, but she loved this old man!

  Suddenly, the sadness threatened to overwhelm her. Not only had she lost her mother and Alex (not that he was ever hers to lose), but she’d be losing Hugo too, in a few short weeks. Every day saw an improvement in his health. He’d soon be able to drive again, and he was already able to manage short walks on the flat. It was debatable whether he’d be able to farm those fields again, though. They would take more work than Hugo was capable of doing on his own, and even if he did return them to their former glory, it would be far too late to bail him out of his current financial mess.

  Wondering if Alex had managed to do anything about his uncle’s predicament brought Sophie back to thinking about him again. She pushed the image of his face (the one just before his lips joined with hers was her favourite) out of her mind with an impatient sigh.

  She wished she was in a position to do something – anything – to help Hugo, but she was powerless. If she returned to England, she’d worry herself silly about him, she knew she would…

  Abruptly she straightened up and took a deep breath. Aunty Anne didn’t need her – Hugo did.

  Her decision was made.

  Hugo had unconsciously made it for her.

  She had to remain on Tenerife to keep an eye on him. And the only way she could do that at the moment
was to take Dominic up on his offer.

  Biting her lip, hoping the man in question wasn’t regretting suggesting she go and live with him, she reached for her phone.

  Chapter 29

  Sophie dipped a toe in the chilly waters of the Atlantic Ocean and squealed, the temperature difference bringing her out in goosebumps.

  ‘Don’t be a baby,’ Dominic called as he raced past her, his board under his arm. She appeared to be the only person on this beach who wasn’t wearing a wetsuit and didn’t have a bodyboard.

  She didn’t care. It was bad enough paddling (her feet were already numb) and she had no intention of plunging into the surf with only a bikini between her and hypothermia. It didn’t help that she’d been sunbathing while Dominic donned his suit, fiddled about with the leash (apparently you had to attach the board to your wrist or ankle, or risk losing it) and put his fins on (she’d been told they were called fins, not flippers). Because she’d been lounging around on the sand, soaking up the rays, her skin was pleasantly hot. In contrast the water was freezing.

  Content to watch, she returned to her towel and flopped down onto it, although she did feel a bit of an outsider. This lot clearly knew each other well, and from what she could see, the group was fairly fluid. If you were there, great; if not, no worries. The women were all slim and fit, with wind-tousled hair and a spray of tattoos across their bodies. Come to think of it, the men were quite similar in that regard too. It was like being on an episode of Baywatch (her mum had liked to watch reruns of the programme, saying it brought back memories). Maybe she ought to get a tattoo if she wanted to fit in?

  Everyone was very open and friendly, though, welcoming her without a second thought when Dominic introduced her, and later she was able to join in a bit more when someone fired up a barbecue. She might not be able to surf the waves, but she could cook a mean sausage, and she set to slicing rolls in half and tossing the onions until they were deliciously charred.

  Sitting back with a hot dog in one hand and a can of fizzy apple juice in the other, she finally felt herself relax. She could get used to this beach lifestyle, she thought, and suspected it might become part of her weekly routine if she lived with Dominic.