Yes, he’s going to love her, all right.
I climb back into the plane to get the luggage as I hear Dad introduce himself.
‘Peter Livingston—at your service.’
She laughs a little more. ‘Coco Lauren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
She climbs down, with his aid, and I meet them a few moments later, plane locked up and bags in hand. He’s telling her about the other plane in the hangar—his Cessna, the one I learned to fly in.
‘She’s old, but perfectly adequate, and she’ll give that flash Cirrus a flight for its money.’ He jerks his thumb at my Cirrus and laughs. ‘It’s all fur coat and no knickers, that one.’
‘Dad!’
Coco is in giggles, and I swear I’m blushing. Bloody hell.
‘You can’t say that.’
‘You can’t say anything these days... It’s a wonder we’re not all mute!’
She actually snorts now, and I’m about to bollock him and demand he shut it entirely, but my eyes land on her and I’m rooted. She’s glowing. Radiant. Everything I wanted her to be by taking her away, and we’ve only been here five minutes.
Dad catches my eye and smiles. There’s so much to read in his expression. Approval is high up there and it swells within me too, to the point that I have to clear my throat to speak.
‘Can we at least get to the house before you scare her off for good?’
His smile simply grows. ‘Sure can—the Land Rover’s just outside. Not afraid of dogs are you, Ms Lauren?’
‘Coco, please—and, no, I love dogs.’
‘They’re going to love you.’
Dad moves off. Coco gives me a glowing smile and follows in his footsteps, and I’m still rooted, staring after them. It feels so right, having her here. All I need now is my brother, Jake, to turn up and the family circle will be complete.
The thought brings with it such warmth, such contentment. I know what it is because I’ve felt it before. There was the time before we lost Mum, and there was the time with Jess, but this is different—more profound, more real. And if it’s this strong, then surely she feels it too? Surely it can survive the truth?
Surely we can survive it?
* * *
My God, his father looks like him...or rather Ash looks like his father.
And they’re cracking me up. They’re like a double act, with Ash the unwilling participant, and it’s priceless.
Peter is whizzing us cross-country in his Land Rover, which looks older than me and smells fresh of wet Border collie. And he’s using the trip to point out several of Ash’s firsts. That’s where he did his first stand-up wee; that’s where he learned to ride a bike; that’s where he face-planted in a cowpat... It’s a brilliant tour, steeped in Livingston history. And made all the more entertaining by the colour creeping so high in Ash’s cheeks that he looks sunburned.
I smile at him, sitting there in the front passenger seat, while I grip the grab handle for dear life and take a face licking from Dotty, the youngest and most boisterous of three collies.
‘You okay back there with them?’ Ash asks, stroking the head of Dolly, the eldest collie, deemed sensible enough to sit upfront.
‘Absolutely.’
My jeans have taken a beating, muddy paw prints galore, but my raincoat has protected my baby pink cashmere jumper from the worst. Not that I’d care if it hadn’t. This is fun. Real fun. Even with his father’s daredevil driving.
‘How far is the house?’ I ask, feeling in part to blame for Ash’s heightened colour and thinking it might spare him any further embarrassing commentary if we discuss something else.
I look at those endearing streaks in his cheeks and my stomach flips, failing to land right when we’re propelled over a mini swell in the rugged terrain.
‘Just over the crest of this hill,’ his father pipes up.
I lean forward to gaze through the windscreen at the sharp incline ahead and laugh. ‘You call this a hill?’
Both men grin as they look at one another.
Clearly what constitutes a hill in Scotland is not the same as for London. But, seriously, it’s essentially a mountain—and naturally beautiful with it. All green and rocky crags, with the occasional track carved out.
‘Have you been to the Highlands before?’ his father asks.
‘No.’ It’s a squeak, and my grip is tightening even more as we hit a particularly bumpy patch. I fear being catapulted to the other side of the Land Rover, regardless of the seat harness.
‘Ah, then you’re in for a treat. You should come back in the summer, when the heather is in bloom and it’s a blanket of purple out there.’
‘She’s not even stayed once yet, Pop.’
Ash’s eyes flit to me, and the hope in his eyes chimes with my own.
‘I can imagine I’d like that a lot.’
‘My mother was from up here, and although she married an Englishman, her heart never left,’ his father says, his voice unaffected by the rattling around us, although my insides feel like they’re about to clamber up and out of my body. ‘She would bring us here holidaying when I was a boy, and I bought this place not long before Ash was born. It was a bargain back then.’
We reach the crest as he says it, the car finally hitting an actual road and going quiet, smooth. I relax—only to have my lips part in surprise at the enchanting view ahead.
‘It was our country retreat until I’d had enough of the city life altogether. Then it became my home.’
‘But is it...? Is it meant to look like a castle?’ My words are almost a whisper, as if speaking any louder will break the spell of what I can see.
‘I think the wealthy trader who built it in the nineteenth century fancied himself a bit royal...’ His father gives a hearty chuckle. ‘And, considering the moat he fashioned around it, I’d say he was none too popular either.’
He turns to look at me briefly.
‘Just don’t expect much on the inside, though. It’s only me and the dogs now, so I stick to the west wing. Easier to keep clean that way.’
‘West wing—got it.’
Ash raises his brow at me. ‘He’s not kidding either, the place needs a lot of work in parts, so don’t expect anything too grand.’
I nod, beaming. Truth is I’m already in love with the place.
Even as we get closer and I can make out the crumbling walls, the odd piece of scaffolding and the greenery growing where windows should be, it’s still majestic. Still gorgeous in its own unique way—from the little stone bridge that crosses the water to the imposing structure itself, with its four pointed fairy-tale turrets.
‘I love it.’
Ash looks at me as I say it and smiles. I’m so grateful to him for doing this. For realising I need this. I hold his gaze, spilling my all into that one look as the car slows to pass over the bridge, and the moment shatters in the bouncing excitement of my four-legged companions, who are now clambering up. Dotty chins me in the process. I laugh as I tickle her, and we look out of the window together.
The colours are beautiful. The sun is starting to set, and the water is rippling with the golden hues of the sky and the rolling hillsides.
I can almost imagine London away altogether. Is that why his father came here?
I think back to what Ash told me about his family past, the reason for his father’s early retirement, and I have my answer.
His father pulls the car up and cuts the engine. ‘Home sweet home.’
We all pile out and the dogs scurry off to investigate. ‘Mary has made up your usual room, son. Do you want to take Coco on up and then come find me when you’re done?’
‘Sure, Pop.’
‘Thank you,’ I say.
His father beams at me and then walks off in the same direction as the dogs.
I turn to Ash. Mary? I mouth.
He smiles. ‘Housekeeper—of sorts. She lives in the neighbouring village and comes to sort Dad out every once in a while. Her husband farms the land here.’
‘It’s good he has some company.’
‘I think he’s quite happy in his own, truth be told.’
We both watch him playing with the dogs and I wonder if we’re thinking the same: Does he ever get lonely?
‘Come on,’ Ash pipes up. ‘Let’s get in before we freeze.’
I’m surprised to find tears pricking once more, and I blink them back before he can catch them. I don’t want him doubting his decision to bring me here. Not when I’m so happy to be here with him in his family home.
‘Lead the way.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
WE ENTER THE house through the kitchen and I show Coco the lived-in areas of the ground floor: the living room, the dining room, the library—Dad’s favourite room.
As we enter the entrance hall, her gasp is audible. ‘This isn’t grand?’
She raises her brow at me and twirls on the spot, captivated by the high-ceilinged room, with its imperial staircase, ornate features and parquet floor. But I’m one hundred percent hooked on her and her obvious pleasure.
‘I feel decidedly underdressed.’
She laughs as she says it, but my head is already undressing her, wrapped up in her free and easy presence. ‘That can be arranged.’
She stills and looks at me, and the very second our eyes collide, I know she’s wanting the same.
‘But your father...?’
‘Is busy.’
I drop the bags to my feet and close the distance between us, pulling her in for a kiss that’s all the deeper for the interrupted one in the cockpit. She curves into me, her soft sigh telling me she’s as keen as I am.
‘You ready to see my bedroom?’
She lifts her lashes, her cheeks colouring. ‘It feels kind of weird. I’ve never stayed under the same roof as my... Well, you know... A boyfriend’s parent.’
She blushes further as she puts a label to me—hell, my whole insides are blushing over it, loving it and wanting more.
‘I promise you, this house is big enough that he won’t hear a peep—unless, of course, I make you scream.’
She bites into her lip as she eyes me. ‘Now, there’s a thought.’
Heat surges south and I turn away to grab the bags before I drop her to the parquet and say to hell with any potential audience.
‘This way...’
She starts after me and then stops. ‘Wait—my shoes...’
‘Keep them on. This place can get chilly. If it makes you feel better, you can leave them outside the bedroom; it’ll save me the job of taking them off you when we get there.’
She laughs. ‘Thank you, Ash.’
I frown at her. ‘For what?’
‘For bringing me here. It truly is perfect.’
Her voice is so soft, her eyes are the same, and there’s so much emotion clouding her gaze. I curse the fact that my hands are full of baggage instead of her.
‘You’re welcome.’
She does take her shoes off outside the door, and I do the same, gesturing for her to go in.
She turns the knob on the door and pushes it open.
‘The light pull is just to your left.’
She pulls on it and her face lights up with the glow from a central chandelier. ‘Wow!’
‘You like it?’
‘What’s not to like?’
She pads in, tracing her fingers over the antique furnishings, the window seat with its full-height drapes and then the four-poster bed.
She curls her fingers around a bottom post and smiles at me, all coy. ‘This could be fun.’
The heat pulses in my groin.
Fuck.
I release the bags and kick the door closed. She straightens as I stride towards her, her smile growing, and then my arms are around her and I keep moving, walking her to the bed, onto her back, my mouth on hers, hard, urgent. My saving grace is that she’s right with me, her mouth just as hungry, her hands just as fierce.
There are too many layers—our coats, our sweaters—but they’re coming off. Our hands are ripping them away from each other. Our jeans are next, and our underwear, and then she shivers.
‘Are you cold?’ I manage to ask.
‘No.’ She shakes her head, her mouth finding mine and kissing away any doubt. ‘I want you.’
She wraps her legs around me. I feel my cock probing at her hot, slick warmth and I pull back, pinning my hands on either side of her head as I stare down into pools of green, dilated with desire.
She has her hands on my neck, her fingers brushing over the hairs at my nape. She wets her lips, suddenly hesitant. ‘What is it?’ she asks.
‘You,’ I say.
A delightful little crease forms between her brows.
‘I’m losing myself in you.’
Her lashes flutter, her eyes glisten. ‘I feel the same.’
I hope so.
I feel the alien prick of tears and kiss her until the sensation passes, until the burn subsides.
‘Now, Ash, please.’ She moves against me, pulling herself close, submerging the head of my cock in her alluring, tight heat.
‘Look at me, baby.’
I need her with me—need her to see everything she has come to mean as I sink inside her.
She opens her eyes, stares up at me.
‘Thank you for letting me take you away.’ Slowly I enter her, savouring the feel of her surrounding me, the way her skin colours, her pleasure radiating out. ‘Thank you for letting me give you this.’
She shakes her head, hooking her hands around my neck. ‘I’m the one thanking you.’
She stays with me, her eyes on mine, even as I fill her completely and her head threatens to rock back. She stays locked on my gaze, clenching me tightly. The pulsing heat is calling to me, and my eyes are trying to close as pleasure overtakes my body, my mind. I force them open. I need this. The connection. The security of it. I need it to get through what is to come. To have faith that it will all come good.
‘Tell me you’re mine,’ I urge.
She nods her head, her eyes flashing with sincerity.
‘Tell me. I need the words...’
‘I’m yours, Ash.’
My chest swells with the bittersweet happiness of knowing what I have now and what I risk losing. I squeeze my eyes shut against the pang, scared that she will see, and when I open them again she’s there...
‘Always, Ash.’
Always. Always. Always.
I focus on that, rocking into her with every echo, claiming her as mine, wishing away all else. I drop to kiss her and together we rock, kiss, devour, our eyes locked together, sharing it all.
And when we come it’s in harmony. Everything’s perfect, exactly how it should be.
No truth can take this away. It can’t...
* * *
I’m shaking. The truth of my words is tearing through me as my limbs soften around him and the waves of pleasure fade.
I love him.
I love Ash.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve only known him weeks, that we agreed there could be no future. I have fallen for him.
And if what I read in his face, in his demands, is true, he loves me too.
I grip him tighter to me. Uncertainty is creeping in. It was he who said there could be no future. He who put his job before us. Will he still?
His head lifts, and his eyes scan my face as he strokes back my hair.
‘I have a few things to do. Why don’t you freshen up and meet me downstairs in a bit?’
I offer him a small smile, my brain a confused rambling. Just tell him. No, let him tell you first. Don’t make a fool of yourself
. You’re getting high on his kindness.
And then he’s pressing himself up and off me, and heading to what I assume is the bathroom, and I’m no closer to working out where to begin this conversation because I don’t want to lose what we have now.
But what if he can’t give me more?
I hope a shower will clear my head, make me think straight, but I’m just as confused as I make my way downstairs an hour later. I follow the sounds of movement and the delicious scent of spices, but when I get to the kitchen it’s only his father I see.
‘Ah, Coco—excellent timing.’ He looks up from the pan he’s stirring, an apron tied around his waist, his cheeks flushed from the billowing steam.
‘How so?’
I grin. I like him—a lot. I can’t for the life of me imagine him in a boardroom, though; he seems far too chilled and exuberant.
‘I could do with a little helper. Ash has had to disappear to make some calls, but he shouldn’t be too long. I hope you like curry.’
I breathe in the spicy aroma and nod. ‘Smells delicious!’
‘Good. Good...’ He pops on a pan lid and stirs another two pans simultaneously. ‘Ever made naan bread before?’
I laugh as I edge closer and see what he has cooking. ‘No, I’ve never even baked—unless you count the cooking I did at school...and let’s just say my home economics teacher thought I was beyond help.’
‘Nonsense. Everyone can bake so long as they have the right teacher.’
It’s Ash. He’s back.
I turn to him. My smile is instantaneous and giddy. I’m so happy to see him again it’s ridiculous. He comes straight to me and wraps his arms around my waist, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I hear the dogs patter in behind him.
‘Enough of that, son. Those naans aren’t going to roll themselves. Dotty—down!’
He pushes the young collie back as Ash pats my behind with a grin and slips his hand in mine to lead me to a counter dusted with flour.
‘You know how to do this?’ I say.
He positions me in front of him, his warmth radiating down my back as he takes up the dough and starts to break it into smaller balls.
‘What have I said to you about my ego?’
Getting Dirty Page 14