She hoiked it up to have a proper look at herself. Trying the new gym kit on, she’d assumed the sports fabric was holding her in, but maybe not. The reflection showed a body she hadn’t seen in years. There was less flab there – not Barbie taut or anything like that, but she was definitely less muffiny. Some muscles had definition, particularly in her arms while her abs had aspirations. Granted her eating was currently rather sporadic and salady for ease, but otherwise it must be down to the classes she’d trialled with Natalie. Her constant stair climbing had probably helped too; overseeing the build across three floors, she’d been up and down like a tart’s knickers. She considered her calves. They weren’t her worst bit by a long shot now.
The dress was hanging on her. Granted, it was a funeral, not a fashion show, but after the state she’d looked at Blackie’s she’d wanted to up her game. She’d even ventured out for a haircut. She was too busy to shop for another dress. A belt was the only solution. Resigned, Tiff took her skinny calves back to her desk.
Mid-afternoon, she tried Colin again, but yet again, it just rang out. Seriously, she understood people needed their holidays, but an answer machine would be more professional. Small businesses couldn’t afford to be lax with customer care. She’d picked a local company to keep the money in the community, but was beginning to wish she’d gone with one of the big nationals, who’d at least have had some holiday cover to handle her order.
Putting down the phone it rang immediately, making her jump.
‘Tiff. It’s Mike.’ Oh man, that voice. Her belly tightened and her thighs clenched, then she remembered her disappointment at his not calling. ‘Sorry for ghosting you, I was snowed under with the funeral and the house. It’s gone on the market.’ He was sounding much brighter than she’d expected given the taciturn texts.
‘Oh. That was fast.’ She half-forgave him instantly.
‘Yeah, no point hanging around. It kept my mind off things, you know?’ She did. She got it. But a call would’ve been nice…
And the house going on the market? Surely that meant he’d made his decision.
‘Did the gym get finished?’ he asked.
‘It did. Just now. The building, that is. The lift is being fixed next week and I’m waiting for the kit.’
‘Right, did you get the new ring?’ It was small talk, which made her want to shout. They had much much bigger things to discuss.
‘It’s due Saturday. Yours is fine in the storeroom until you’re ready for it.’
‘Great.’
‘Not that I have a coach,’ she said, gloomily.
‘Right, the coach. I didn’t come back to you on that. Sorry.’
‘S’alright, you’ve had enough going on,’ she conceded. It was her problem after all, not his. ‘I put an ad on the website and in The Ring, but the responses have been pants.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably better off with word of mouth for this kind of job.’ That was the problem though, his was the only relevant mouth she knew.
‘I tried a couple of sports recruitment websites too, but they haven’t turned anything up either. So, short of advertising at a televised match, which is ludicrous, I’m out of ideas.’
He might have sensed her growing panic so they had a lame brainstorming attempt, but she could tell he was distracted, and they got no further. To be honest, her attention was elsewhere too and for now it took precedence over the coach anxiety.
Enough was enough. ‘How’s your job situation looking?’ She wanted to know where they stood. His lack of immediate answer was a bad omen.
‘The channel’s pushing for an answer. I’m supposed to let them know by tomorrow. My agent’s almost apoplectic.’
‘Well, they want to get you while you’re hot.’ He didn’t respond to that. Had she said the wrong thing? Was it a daunting prospect seeing your stardom fading? She didn’t want his confidence to take a hit. ‘It’s a great opportunity, Mikey.’ It was true, she couldn’t deny it, much as she might want to; it was a great offer.
‘You think I should take it?’ No, she thought. Her reaction was instinctive, but also selfish. The more she’d thought about the revelations on the hill, the more she’d wondered what might have happened had Blackie and Nanna not stepped in. What might they have become? There was something about The Kiss she wanted to investigate, to let blossom. Not as some nostalgic thing, more as a second chance.
However, she was waylaid by the fact he was asking her. His wanting her opinion was both flattering and important; with Nanna and Verity gone, maybe his circle of advisers had disappeared. No doubt his agent was leaning towards the dollar signs. Tiff felt he deserved an unbiased discussion.
‘Well,’ she began carefully, ‘you said it was Nanna Bea keeping you here…’
‘It was.’ Not anymore though. Point to LA.
‘And what do you think she’d have said?’ Tiff asked, knowing the answer.
‘She’d have said Praise the Lord! and had my bag packed before I could blink.’ Yup. That was what Tiff thought too. Another point to LA. Tiff had a vision of Nanna shooing her on her way, so as not to hinder Mike’s ascension to further glory.
‘She always wanted the best for you, Mikey.’ Both Blackie and Nanna had wanted the best for him. Tiff knew that. They’d made hard decisions in the past for exactly the same reason. And those decisions had paid off. Tiff couldn’t help but feel they were showing her the way, much as it might hurt. ‘We all want the best for you.’
But she was so torn. What she wanted wasn’t necessarily what he needed, or what was right.
‘So you’re saying I should go?’ Something about his voice said Mike wasn’t just asking for her opinion. No. She pressed her lips shut tight. Tiff, be fair, be objective…
She couldn’t do it and so took a seat on the fence, not proud of her cowardice. ‘Mikey, that’s for you to decide.’
‘I’m just trying to figure out if there’s anything… anything to stay for.’
Me, she wanted to shout. Ask him. Ask him. Go on. The scrawled CV’s on the desk in front of her were pushing her and a small something in her head kept yelling he’d already been given the lucky break once, weren’t they due one now, not least in compensation for the past? She wanted to see what The Kiss could be.
But.
What if it was just a kiss, nothing more nothing less? She couldn’t ask him to pass this up based on a what if. Dropping her head quietly onto the desk and shutting her eyes to crush the threatening tears, Tiff knew the only answer she could, in good conscience, give.
‘Not sure I can think of anything to beat LA, Mikey. It sounds amazing.’ The words felt like shards.
‘Right,’ he said, finally with a sigh. ‘Tiff, I gotta go. If I get my agent now he can place the call to LA before end of play.’
The following silence was her cue to change her mind. Instead she mentally stepped aside to stand beside Blackie and Nanna, out of his way. She could not, would not, be the one to drag him down, to keep him in a small town. Having had her own future fettered by the actions of others, she couldn’t do that to him. His prospects weren’t hers to shape for her own selfish desires.
Accepting her decision he asked, ‘Can I pick you up for the funeral tomorrow? Can we go together?’
‘Of course,’ she said, but her mind was reeling with the capitulation. She didn’t know where they stood. ‘Will you be staying?’ Please. It might sound like a proposition, but that was because it possibly was.
‘I don’t know, Tiff. I’ve got things to finalise here, so I’ll have to see how things pan out, you know?’
‘I guess,’ she said, but as they said their goodbyes, she felt she’d already lost him.
Chapter 29
‘Bossy as she was, Nanna obviously had no more sway with the man upstairs regarding funeral weather, than Blackie did,’ Mike said, looking out of the Pentecostal church hall window. It had been a lovely service, complete with gospel singers and the women of Nanna’s congregation were now plying them
with wedges of ginger cake. The weather though was true to form; dismal. Cold miserable drizzle wasn’t going to overturn Mike’s decision.
‘Maybe it’s their punishment for meddling in the past,’ she said, but more to herself.
‘They got off lightly then.’ Mike’s face wore a wan smile. Though tearful, the service had been a true celebration and he seemed to have been released from a great weight. He was dressed in a dark suit again and looking so handsome. Not having a battered face this time helped too. Tiff kept sneaking peeks at him, only to see Mike covertly eyeing her too.
Things were awkward. She’d met him at the club. Her own smile was spontaneous. His though was like he was trying to constrain it. They were at odds from the off. She suggested tea before they went, but he declined. She asked about the traffic, but it’d been fine thank you. Small talk done, they’d sat quietly as he steered the Aston through the streets to the church. The hearse had arrived shortly after and raw emotions had taken over.
Coat in hand, ginger cake in tummies, Tiff saw her time with Mike disappearing far quicker than she was ready for. She’d overheard him telling Nanna’s friends he was going back to the States. As they left the wake and sped off in the car, she needed to know whether she’d ever see him again. While all the signs indicated this was over before it had begun, she wanted clear-cut facts. She’d done the not-knowing thing before and she’d done the hoping-for-a-reprieve recently with Gavin. She craved clarity.
After ditching his tie, he got out and opened the car door for her outside the gym. She couldn’t let this be it. If she asked him a question and kept walking, he’d have to follow her in, wouldn’t he? She’d act like it was a given he’d come in for a bit. It was worth a punt.
‘So, when’s your flight booked?’ she asked. She kept her eyes to the ground but was pleased to hear his footsteps behind her.
‘Monday night. Sunday was sold out.’ He wasn’t wasting any time.
‘Got any plans to come back?’ she said, unlocking the door and ushering him into the reception. She locked it behind him, but still didn’t look up. She didn’t trust her face not to crumble. Being so matter-of-fact about it was hard. This was what she’d decided was for the best, but it didn’t curb her need to grab his legs and wail Don’t go! She headed for the stairs and the office. Tea. She’d make tea. It was always the answer.
‘None currently,’ he said. ‘Depends on the schedule. Maybe when the house sells…’ There were companies that would box all his stuff and ship it to him. Mike wasn’t coming back for that.
‘Tiff? What am I doing here?’ Turning she saw he’d stopped following her. He looked dejected.
‘Would you chuck an eye over the applications I’ve had?’ she tried. It sounded as desperate as it truly was. ‘I am getting applications, but I’m slightly nervous to interview the ones who took their coaching qualifications in prison. Not that I’m against giving someone a fair chance, but—’
‘Tiff. Why am I here?’ He wasn’t buying it. And she was at a loss.
‘I thought… I just thought we could spend some time together before you go.’
‘And why is that?’ he coaxed. She had nowhere to hide, and felt forced to the truth.
‘We kissed,’ she stated.
‘We kissed,’ he agreed.
‘What did it mean? Did you feel it was a mistake?’
‘Not for a second,’ he said calmly. ‘I wanted to kiss you since I first saw you in your jammies again.’
‘And now? I know you’re leaving, and rightly so, but I wondered if—’ she broke off, not quite able to say it for fear of being rejected.
‘If?’
That lust-over-sense thing won over again. She’d take the heartache for more of what they’d started under the ring. Hearts could heal. She’d learnt that. They weren’t as delicate as she’d once thought – if anything, scar-tissue made them stronger. Moments, however, they were lost, she’d come to see that too, and so she wanted hers, however short, with Mike. ‘If we could do it again.’
He took a step towards her. She stayed put. He took another and another until they were nose to nose. Her breathing was off kilter.
‘I just lied,’ he said, his voice low. Tiff’s mind reeled through all the possible things he’d said that could have been a lie. Was this a cruel game? ‘I wanted to kiss you since you banged your leg in the pub at the wake and were too far in a snit to let on.’ Given his proximity and the change in the air, Tiff couldn’t help gulping. It roughly translated to come and get it.
Under the ring or against the corridor wall, the kissing was the same; heart-thrashing and exhilarating.
‘Do you want to go upstairs?’ Mike rasped between his kisses around her neck and ear. Decision-making was difficult at this point. The office sofa was nearer but offered approximately the same discomfort of her mattress, so it was much of a muchness. However, the fairy lights of her room would be more forgiving than the strip-lighting of the office when it came to showcasing her body after all this time.
Ascending the stairs, she briefly re-questioned herself on what she was doing. He was leaving. She knew this. He’d love her and leave her, like last time. She knew that too. Only, this time she knew he was going; there’d be no mystery. This was a one-night deal. As he nibbled her ear, whispering very naughty things, she knew she wanted this to happen. She deserved to have her moment with Mike, to make up for the past and if Shelby was right, set her up for the future. This would be the best fling she could dream of, and one she’d look back on joyfully when he’d gone. She needed this.
That said, she still felt shy as she led him inside her room.
‘Homey,’ he said as she switched on the fairy lights. Yup, that was definitely the maximum illumination she could cope with.
‘Behave,’ she said, dropping her phone on the archive box bedside table. ‘One day I’ll have my own place again.’
‘Will you invite me over?’ he asked, releasing her belt before sliding his hands down her thighs to the hem of her dress and pulling it slowly up over her raised arms and head. They’d reached an accord; he was definitely going, but they needed this too.
‘You wouldn’t turn up unexpected, with a suntan and daft trans-Atlantic twang? I’ve got used to your visits,’ she said, pulling his shirt up but getting stuck around his shoulders because he was stupidly broad and she was too short. He took over, choosing a more sensible approach of unbuttoning it, affording her a shameless gawp at his chest. Blimey. For a retired guy he would put the cover-shots of Men’s Fitness to shame. (Yes, okay, she’d succumbed and bought a copy. Then placed a subscription. The reception needed magazines for waiting clients. It was totally legit.)
‘Me too,’ he said back at her neck, resuming where they’d left off, his hands now gliding over across her skin, sending her eyeballs fluttering within their lids. He stopped and bereft Tiff opened her eyes to find him gazing concerned at the bruises on the soft skin inside her upper arm. She quickly understood his worry, knowing he’d grown up tending his mother’s welts.
She kissed his shoulder to reassure him. ‘They’re from the pole-fitness, Mike.’ This clearly satisfied him and more; his eyes growing darker again at a rapid speed. He moved his lips to the top of the bruise trail, and began planting tiny kisses on her pole kisses. It was sublime.
They manoeuvred to the bed and sank clumsily down on it. He pulled his face from her.
‘Jesus, Tiff. How d’you sleep on this? My kitchen counter has more spring.’ She looked back at him appalled. ‘What? It’s marble. It’s bloody hard.’
‘Mike, I don’t want to know what you’ve been doing in your kitchen unless it’s making food.’ God, blokes were idiots sometimes.
‘That’s not what I meant. I haven’t, I mean we didn’t… well maybe once… but—’
She slapped her hand over his mouth. His eyes showed a hint of panic, then settled with a look of apology.
‘Shutting up now?’ He nodded and she dropped her hand. He waited
, holding himself above her. He wanted her to make the first move, to say it was okay to carry on.
Trembling, she ran her hand across his chest, appreciating the muscle definition. A new growth of baby hairs made a soft down under her delighted touch, his retirement having ended the waxing. He waited, still, keenly watching her face. Her fingertips reached a nipple and she gave it a tweak for the hell of it. That spurred him into action and they were off again. The kissing, the touching, all of the exploring was as pulse-racing as she’d imagined it would be. She had been imagining it. There wasn’t much else to do at night in the storeroom; she’d reread all the books in her boxes.
As they both kicked off their shoes and he carefully, with precision verging on the painful, peeled off her remaining layers, she began considering how she must look to him now after all this time. In spite of recent changes, she was bigger and definitely softer than when he’d last been so close. Admittedly, that had been frenzied, racing against time to get the deed done before they got caught. This Mike, by comparison, moved in slow-mo. This Mike worked as if he had all the time in the world, leisurely investigating every inch of her. But Tiff began falling to the struggle in her head; trying to raise the vixen she wanted to be, while the fear of being a disappointment mounted a concerted attack.
‘Tiff?’ Mike asked gently, drawing away from her belly and rising to look up at her. He brushed an errant twist of hair way from her cheek. ‘Tiff, stop. Breathe.’ Running his thumb along her collar bone, his eyes darted between hers. ‘Relax. It’s me. Mikey. Remember?’
‘I’m nervous. It’s been a while.’
‘Don’t be nervous, Angel. It’s just me.’ His hushed tone as he spoke between his kisses to the base of her throat and up to her ear was intoxicating. ‘You remember me, don’t you? Two thrusts, a grunt and we’re done.’
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