“Tonight’s fine. Shall I pick you up?”
“No, it’s okay, I should drive.”
I go to argue with him but have a feeling I would be wasting my time.
“Okay, how does the pub down on the river sound. They do a mean pie.”
“Sounds awesome.”
He plonks the teapot on the table and I get the feeling it’s my job to pour, which I willingly do.
Chapter Sixteen
Rosa
I’m glad he agreed to drive, my stomach has been doing somersaults for an hour already and I’ve had to resort to a vodka again to calm my jittery hands. I’ve not gone overboard with the make-up but don’t want a rogue line of kohl to make me have to start all over again.
I first put on a dress with a cut out back, but decide it is too much and swap it for jeans and a lacy top. Then, I remember that is similar to what I wore last night. Next, I try on a pair of capri pants but my bum looks too flat. Another dress, longer this time which just looks silly without the sandals that I originally bought, and now e-Bayed, to go with them. A skirt and blouse, looks too ‘worky’. Jeans and a suit jacket, a definite no-no.
The pile of clothes on my bed is now larger than those still hung up. I pour another vodka but stop myself before it reaches my lips and throw it down the sink. I really can’t afford to get drunk again tonight, it wouldn’t matter what I wore if that was to happen.
I take a few soothing breaths and put my hands together over my central chakra.
Right, come on Rosa stop making this so hard.
Jeans, batwing top with cut out shoulders and wedges. There.
Kane has pulled up outside and I am both excited and petrified.
I called Poppy earlier and told her about my daring. She was bowled over and gave me all sorts of instructions on what to do and what not to do. Luckily, I have forgotten them all because Poppy isn’t me and as much as her rules for first dates work for her, they are quite likely not going to work for me. I didn’t tell her about the car or the visit to the solicitor or what I’d found out about Charles and Crimson. I didn’t have time. Not unless I wanted to go out with no make-up and scraped back hair.
I hold onto the hand-rail as I make my way downstairs, I’m perched precariously on these wedges and could do without toppling head first and adding another minor trauma to the encounters between Kane and I.
I open the door to a breath halting vision. Handsome face and strong looking frame, clothed in dark blue jeans and a shirt almost the same shade, with sleeves rolled up to mid forearm. Leather bracelets and dark tan chukka boots. I was glad on my choice of outfit and knew that we would look good together. Matched perfectly.
“You look gorgeous,” he beams.
“You don’t scrub up too bad yourself.”
He holds out an arm that had been stowed behind his back. “Here, for you.”
I can’t help but gasp. “Flowers? For me?” I take them from him and hold them to my nose. They’re beautiful, hand tied, tulips with a mild honey scent. I run towards the kitchen, shouting back to him, “Come in while I put them in some water.”
I hear the front door close to and I run some water from the tap into the kitchen sink.
As I walk back toward him I feel like I’m truly in the moment. I’m being picked up by a guy and about to go out on our first date together. This is really happening. And it feels good.
I set the burglar alarm and he opens the door and holds his hand palm up to me, I pass over the keys and he locks the door behind us.
“Ready for some pie?” I ask innocently.
His face momentarily tightens before relaxing into a smile. “Yeah, pie. The pub does a good pie.”
Strange.
I haul myself up into the Land Rover, and buckle up.
“How long have you had this thing?”
“Since my dad passed, it was his. We just keep it at the yard now behind uncle’s and I use it when I’m up here, occasionally going home in it. No real place to park in Oxford.”
“Oh, so you don’t take Belle home with you?”
“Not often, she’s more of a countryside dog. She loves staying up here and she gets spoilt rotten by my aunt.”
We pull out of the gate and stop talking, the wind taking over the air space.
I get to thinking about his reaction to my pie comment and suck in a breath of embarrassment when I realise I had made an innuendo. It was one of the terms Poppy had used when she was badgering me to make sure I had an orgasm. Shit. He must think I’m a right idiot. I look across at him to see if I can tell.
I don’t know why I might know just by looking at him. He is certainly an enigma. Would a professor eat pie? Would a gardener for that matter? Maybe he already has a girlfriend in Oxford that he eats pie with? Now I’m worried that I really don’t know enough about this guy to have asked him out on a date and suggest he eats pie.
I give him directions to the pub and am pleased that there is a healthy number of cars already in the car park. A sure sign that the place is popular and the ambience won’t be flat.
He holds open the door for me and then curls his fingers around my hand so we walk in together. I’m slightly taken aback but at the same time feel my chest swell, it’s a nice gesture and is very welcome. His hand is strong and warm and not in the slightest bit sweaty. I can feel calluses and a firm grip which sends a pulse coursing through me.
“What name have you reserved the table under?”
“Lawtey.”
His eyes linger and then he turns to the waitress and repeats my name.
She shows us to a table tucked away in the corner near to a gargantuan open fireplace. It’s a large table that needs a couple of beer mats under one leg to keep it from wobbling on the uneven brick floor.
“Here’s the menu and todays special pie is venison.”
Special pie, eh?
I raise the menu up and cower behind it as I’m sure I’m about to giggle like a silly schoolgirl.
“What can I get you both to drink? We have a wine list and there are a number of local ales on draught.”
“I’ll have a Coke please. Rosa?”
“I’ll have the same.”
“And the wine list.” He adds.
As the waitress moves off to the bar, I protest. “No it’s fine, I had enough alcohol last night.”
He smiles and crosses his hands in front of him on the table. “Really, it’s okay, if you want a drink, have one, don’t abstain on my account. There was a time when I couldn’t be around alcohol but that time is long gone and now I don’t even give it a second thought.”
“Well if you’re sure you don’t mind, I might just have a glass.”
He opens his hands and gestures with his hands for me to go ahead.
My nerves are getting the better of me and, if that near-miss giggle is anything to go by, I need one.
“So how long have you been teetotal?”
“Six years. I threw myself into my master’s degree and then research for my PhD and haven’t looked back.”
“That’s fantastic, well done.”
“Thank you.”
“Tell me again about your PhD, I’m afraid I didn’t really understand what you said before about it.”
“I studied the biochemistry of plant cells and now, along with a couple of others, I’m writing a paper on the effects of certain plant molecules on the mutagenic effects of cancer cells in the brain. We’ve been researching our findings for two years now.”
“Wow. That’s…wow.” Shit, this guy is super-intelligent and I think Poppy must have been right about my type, because I’m feeling all sorts of crazy about him right now.
The waitress returns with the wine list and our Cokes.
“Could I also have a large glass of Rioja please?”
She nods and takes the wine list back with her.
“If I recall correctly, you said that it was important to you personally?” I take a sip of the Coke which I instantly regret wh
en it fizzes around my teeth, reminding me of why I never drink the stuff.
“Yeah, I lost someone close, to a tumour on the brain.”
I wince. I should have been a bit more sensitive to his remark, of course, ‘important to him personally’ was going to mean something along those lines.
“I’m so sorry Kane.”
“It’s fine. Now.” He has a brave smile on his face. ”Anyway, what are you going to order. I fancy getting my face stuck into some pie.”
He closes his menu and fixes his gaze and smile on me.
“Erm yeah, that sounds good.” I stutter, fluttering my eyelashes as I try to break his stare. I am sure my face has flushed up with the obvious innuendo he has just made and, more poignantly, his understanding of mine, earlier.
I regain my composure and try to change the subject.
“So how come you’re having to go back tomorrow? I thought you’d promised to do my garden next week?”
“We’ll come and do your garden tomorrow if that’s okay? It’s just I need to get back to the research; one of my students contributing to the paper is going back to India at the end of the term and he’s behind with his part of the research, so I said I would help.”
“Yeah, of course, that’s absolutely fine. I don’t know how you have the time to fit it all in?”
“Oh, believe me, it’s nothing compared to what I used to be like. When I was studying for my doctorate I sometimes stayed up all night. My housemates would come back after a heavy night out and find me still at my desk. I think my record was three whole nights in a row without going to bed. You could say I threw myself into it pretty much after…after I stopped drinking.”
I’m sort of putting two and two together. Someone close dies of a brain tumour, Kane drinks heavily and then throws himself into his research. I don’t want to say anything though, as I could be wrong and most certainly don’t want to offend.
“So, do you still house share?”
“Sort of, I have overseas students that sometimes rent a couple of rooms from me. Helps pay the bills. It’s also great to have someone to chat to over dinner. There’s no one with me right now, though.”
“Yeah I could do with someone to house share with. I’ve been rattling around in that house for six months now on my own. I’ve pretty much exhausted any topics I want to talk to myself about.”
He laughs. “Glad you’ve got a sense of humour.”
So do I, although I haven’t had much to laugh about lately and think I’ve done more smiling and laughing today than I have in the whole of the last six months.
“Is it your house, in Oxford I mean?”
“Yeah we bought it.”
I note the ‘we’ but don’t comment as neither does he.
“And your mum, you mentioned about your dad passing…?”
“Yeah, she died when I was younger, so me and my brother were brought up by Dad. So, if there’s little in the way of refinement and a whole lot of macho going on here, then I apologise, but he was all I had. Apart from my aunt of course, who is my dad’s sister.” He pauses to take a sip on his Coke. “Dad was adamant that he was going to bring me and my brother up single handedly. Tried to teach us both the ways of the world, hah, but it was all from his perspective of course. And Dad was certainly a man’s man.” He shakes his head.
“Same. As in my mum died when I was younger too. Dad has Alzheimer’s now though, and my sister and I had to relocate him into a full-time care home last year.”
“How often do you see him?”
“Every week, usually on a Sunday. Although at the beginning of the year I couldn’t … didn’t go.” It still irks me that I didn’t get over myself and visit him those first few weeks.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. What’s done is done and you can’t change that. Are you going tomorrow?”
“Yes, I’ll take him a treat, there’s some rhubarb growing in the herb garden which I can whizz up into a fool.”
He smiles. “Yes, I’ve seen it.”
The waitress comes with our food. Two plates with a healthy serving of meat and gravy filled pie.
“That’s a decent portion,” he comments.
“Well you did say you like your protein.”
“That’s right I do.”
She comes back seconds later with dishes of mashed potato and spring vegetables.
I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by it and I’ve now drunk all of my wine.
“Do you want another?” He points at my empty glass.
“Erm…” And before I have time to answer he beckons the waitress over and asks for another glass.
“I noticed that you didn’t drink more than one sip of your Coke and as you seemed more taken with the wine I thought I would step in. I’m sorry if it was a little presumptuous and I’m certainly not trying to get you drunk, but I also want you to feel comfortable.”
“I do.” And I mean it. The nerves I had before we came out have completely gone and I feel like we have clicked.
We talk throughout dinner about siblings and regale each other with stories of pranks and rivalry and love. Not once does he question me about my marriage and nor I about the trauma that led to his alcohol addiction. The conversation is fun and light and we laugh and smile and then laugh some more.
I am fit to burst when we give up our table for the next reservation, taking our coffees outside to tables that are bathed in the last of the evening sun, at the front of the pub.
We are just about done when a car pulls into the car park. Charles’ car. I consider scooping up my bag and urging Kane to leave. I also think about disappearing into the pub on an excuse of needing the loo, knowing Charles wouldn’t recognize Kane, nor Kane, Charles. But I don’t, because I know that Charles saw me as he pulled in. I know because he doesn’t take his eyes off me when he parks up against the small fence separating his rumbling engine from Kane’s back.
The fright that I feel through the whole of my being must be evident on my face, because Kane pushes his hand across to the table to mine and asks if I I’m okay.
Charles wastes no time getting out of his car and shows no interest in helping his fiancée out, even though she is struggling to extract her bump from the racing seats and is rocking from side to side to gain enough momentum to leverage herself free. He slams his door shut and powers towards us, his nostrils flaring like a bull’s.
I stand up, mainly as a precursor to fleeing. I have no intention of measuring up to him. He is rabid and I know he is going to do something horrible and physical to me.
Kane wastes no time reacting to my move. He leaps up and spins around placing his bulk square against Charles’s chest.
They are an equal match.
Both in height and girth, although Kane’s height is topped off with hair and Charles’ has developed a surprising sparseness. Kane’s girth is solid muscle and Charles’ over-indulgence.
Nose to nose.
Eye to eye.
Charles furious. Kane calm.
Charles tries to side step, but Kane matches his movement.
“Move,” Charles bellows, in a volume that makes me flinch and Crimson cower.
“No,” Kane growls, his eyes fixed hard.
Charles leans back and raises his fist but Kane is too quick, he envelopes it with his hand and powers it backwards. Charles yelping in pain.
Kane doesn’t stop pushing until Charles falls back into a bush.
By this time, Crimson has retreated to the car.
Kane towers over Charles for a few minutes before offering his hand out to me.
I eagerly take it and scurry alongside him, across the car park to his Land Rover, running in my wedges to keep up with his long powerful strides.
“I guess that was your ex?” Is all I hear him comment before the noise of the car takes over our conversation.
He slows down when we are about a mile away.
“Yours or mine?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not leaving you alone tonight. So, you’re welcome to stay at my aunt’s or I’m staying with you at yours.”
“Mine.”
He nods and puts his foot back down on the accelerator.
My heart beats are pushing shockwaves of desire through to my core.
Chapter Seventeen
Rosa
My hands are still trembling when I pour myself a vodka. I can’t reconcile with myself how I feel. I was scared shitless one minute and then turned on in a way I’ve never felt before the next.
Kane is still pumped, he’s pacing up and down my living room and I swear I can smell the testosterone coursing through his bloodstream.
I’m hoping this vodka will burn right down my throat, through my stomach, and stoke the fire that is raging in between my legs, because Sweet Jesus, I don’t want it to go away.
My wishes are answered, on the next turn he strides toward me and instead of brushing passed, he grabs my face in between both of his hands and presses his lips forcefully onto mine. I drop my empty glass and it thuds onto the rug, rolling off obediently to one side. I return the pressure and put my hands up onto the back of his neck to deepen our embrace.
Sweet fucking Jesus, I can feel his erection pressing right onto my sex. I don’t know if it’s me or him or both of us that is throbbing but the pulsing is palpable.
He forces his tongue into my mouth and I duel back with mine. The exchange of pheromones and the lack of oxygen making me giddy.
His hands move down from my cheeks and onto my backside, he roughly draws one of my legs up and over his hip and grinds into me.
Sweet motherfucking Jesus, he’s pressing himself onto me and I’m moistening. The sensation intensifying, the heat building and spreading from where he is pressing, right up into my belly.
Then he suddenly pulls away, leaving me with a heavy throbbing ache. My eyes latch on to his which are dark with desire.
He tips me back onto the sofa, standing to the side of my head.
I find myself ripping at the buttons on his jeans. He undoes his belt and prises his shirt over his head.
Into the Light Page 11