‘You can’t leave him at home,’ I objected, casting a fond look at the pup. ‘He’s obviously still bonding with you and you’ll ruin all of your hard work to date.’
‘Seriously, is it me you agreed to date or the dog?’ he chuckled.
‘You come as a package, Weston. Him I’ve sussed, you I need a bit more time with. I don’t feel like I know much about you at all,’ I smiled, gazing up at him through my lashes.
‘Well, he has excellent taste. He clicked with you immediately.’ Weston lifted his right hand and slowly slid it behind my neck, his fingers weaving into my hair and his thumb gently brushing my jaw as he stepped closer, making my breath hitch. I lifted my chin up to hold his needy gaze, feeling the heat from his hard, muscular body pressing against mine. I licked my dry lower lip as he lowered his mouth towards mine, and it took a concerted effort not to sag against him as he lay a soft, delicate kiss on my lips that had stars explode behind my closed eyes. Before I had a chance to grip his biceps for support and kiss him back the way I was desperate to, he’d stepped away and was opening his car door.
I shook my head to rid myself of the giddiness I was feeling as he wrestled an excited Bertie out of pole position, then I reached up and touched my lips. My skin was humming with need for more of him as he shut his car door quickly when Bertie tried to make a bid for freedom. My limited experience with men told me a gentle first kiss like that wasn’t normal. Once they started, they usually didn’t want to stop. What had gone wrong? Had I given off such a badly scarred vibe he was terrified of pushing me too hard? I cursed myself for allowing Greg’s shattering of my self-worth to still be getting to me. I was going to have to make it clear tomorrow that as long as he didn’t propose or move his things in straight away, I was strong enough to keep this moving along at a normal pace. Which would include plenty of kissing. I quickly dropped my hand from my kiss-starved lips as he looked my way after starting the engine and eased his window down a fraction.
‘I had a really good time, Georgie,’ he said. ‘See you tomorrow.’
‘See you tomorrow,’ I agreed, reassured at the sincerity in his tone and his gaze.
He slowly reversed out of my drive and into the lane, then flashed me one of those sexy-as-hell grins and winked as he saluted me, making me blush and giggle. I waved as he made his way up the bumpy track past Daphne and Abbie’s cottages and disappeared around the corner.
‘Well, Georgie Bassett, it seems like you finally have a boyfriend again,’ I breathed, then hugged myself with excitement, thrilled to feel that sensation instead of panic or dread, and ran back inside. I wanted to sit with my unfinished glass of wine and dissect every moment of the afternoon and evening in minute detail.
Chapter Five
Confessions
The Next Day – Sunday
‘OPEN THE BUBBLY,’ ABBIE called as I heard the back door open. ‘And get four glasses, I have Daphne and Charlie with me.’
‘Bubbly? Oh my God, what happened? What are we celebrating?’ I exclaimed, setting down Charlie’s book. I eased myself out of my comfy sofa, where I’d spent the morning desperately trying to finish her latest book before getting ready for my lunch date.
‘Ermmm, hello? Charlie went to get some bread and milk this morning and found out you only went and got engaged to one of the most famous chefs in the world, Bobbie!’ Abbie grinned as she stuck her head around the door, and I started laughing.
‘Honestly, that Sheila Vickers is a liability.’
‘But so entertaining. She’s told everyone in the village you’re marrying him and arguing that Heston does nuclear astronomy. When she finally accepted that it was molecular gastronomy, she asked if he cooked primarily with moles and that was why her slug porridge had tasted so awful. He’ll be suing her for libel if word spreads. So, Daphne’s already got the kettle on, I’ve brought some freshly baked cookies, and we can’t wait to hear all about your night with Weston.’
‘Is nothing in this lane a secret?’ I asked, astonished at the speed gossip spread.
‘Not with the three of us spying on your every move through our curtains yesterday. We’d have been amazing in the last world war, with our system of feeding information about invaders to the area. And we saw that he drives a BMW, he’s obviously not short of a bob or two.’
‘Well, you know me, I’m so shallow I’d only agree to a date if he drives a certain type of car,’ I scoffed, shaking my head at her as we headed across the hall. My parents were that shallow, though. Sometimes their sweeping social statements made me cringe.
‘We just want someone who can take care of you, Georgie. Greg treated you appallingly and it’s about time you had a gentleman who will treat you the way any woman deserves to be treated,’ stated Daphne, as Charlie ordered her to go and sit at the table while she took over the coffee making.
‘Hmmm, we all want a sexy, ripped alpha-male who’ll throw us facedown over the kitchen table and roger us senseless,’ she winked.
‘Charlie, really?’ scolded Daphne, while Abbie and I laughed and nodded our agreement. ‘It’s not all about sex. You spend too much time with your head in your laptop writing those saucy books and living in fantasy land.’
‘Dr. Fitton and I have the perfect relationship in my dreams, whereas in reality he thinks I’m a hypochondriac with suicidal tendencies,’ she replied as she carried over the coffee and we all settled at my dining table. ‘I say there’s nothing wrong with a little fantasising.’
‘Until you confuse fiction with reality,’ Daphne reminded her, reaching for one of Abbie’s gooey cookies. ‘I keep telling you girls that no man is perfect, but do you listen?’
‘I think Lord Kirkland is,’ I chipped in. ‘Now he’s the ultimate package. He’s good-looking and has an amazing body, not that I’ve seen him naked, but those tight jeans and riding boots are enough to send my pulse fluttering. He’s kind to animals, generous with his money, and helps the needy, let alone lives in a gorgeous house like Dilbury Manor and has the title of Lord. What woman wouldn’t want him?’
‘Me, for starters. He’s been brought up with a silver spoon in his mouth. I bet he doesn’t wash his own underpants, or even know how to,’ Abbie mumbled with a mouthful of cookie. ‘Miller knew how the washing machine worked when we met.’
‘I bet Dr. Fitton does too,’ Charlie nodded with a dreamy sigh. ‘I’ve imagined him stripping out of his dirty scrubs so many times, then taking me on the vibrating washing machine.’
‘Nice,’ Abbie grinned, giving her a high five while Daphne just shook her head, a faint look of amusement on her face.
‘No updates on the hot doctor front, then?’ I asked. Charlie had been smitten with him since he’d first treated her for a suspected fractured wrist, and she had even become the local transport and assistant for all the Dilbury pensioners’ hospital appointments in the hopes that the more she saw of this supposed sex God, the more she’d rub off on him.
‘No,’ she replied with a heavy sigh. ‘But why are we talking about other men? We came here for the dirt on Weston’s surprise visit. Got to say, from what I saw of him, you totally downplayed how hot he is.’
‘Yes, come on Georgie, and don’t be as stingy with the details as Abbie’s been with the cookies this morning,’ complained Daphne as she reached for another to find the plate empty.
‘I do have a demanding full-time job, you know. Why do I always have to do the baking?’ she objected, giving me an eye roll.
‘You shouldn’t make such good ones,’ I agreed as I licked some crumbs off my lips, then sucked my finger where some of the melted white chocolate was smeared. ‘So, you want to hear all about my afternoon and evening with Weston, do you?’
‘Yes,’ everyone chorused as they leaned in, like I was about to read them a fantastical story.
‘Well, it all started with an adorable French bulldog puppy called Bertie,’ I began.
An hour and a half later, I had to virtually push them all out of the door so that
I could go and get ready for our lunch date. Hearing them all so excited for me had just added to my own enthusiasm about seeing him again. Daphne, as ever, had reassured me that men in general weren’t very good at small talk, and I shouldn’t read too much into the fact that I felt like Weston already knew my life story and I knew very little about him. “Actions speak louder than words, Georgie,” she’d said with a gentle squeeze of my hand. His actions certainly implied he was into me.
I decided to wear my black jeans, brown riding boots, and a white shirt topped off with a black blazer. My large brown shoulder bag contained my black leather gloves and a warm black scarf, and my long copper hair was swept into a low ponytail in case it was breezy on our walk later.
Less than half an hour later, I pulled up in the car park, closed my eyes, and took a few deep, calming breaths. In through the nose and out through the mouth, just like Weston had told me to do on our first date. I was not going to make a fool of myself like I had with Dai Owens, or even Weston himself in Mexico.
‘You’ve got this, Georgie. There’ll be no rambling or off-tangent discussions, you’ll maintain your focus, and you won’t let your eyes move south of the border, no matter how tempting it may be to sneak a peek. Yes, he’s super hot, but it’s not all about a buff body and handsome face. Remember that you’re a strong, confident woman who knows what she wants and just has to go for it.’
‘Does that mean that you’re getting out of the car anytime soon, then?’ Weston called, making me squeak as I jumped in my seat and opened my eyes.
‘How much of that did you hear?’ I groaned, feeling my chest and cheeks flush with embarrassment as he grinned at me through the window.
‘Enough to know that you’ll only be looking north of the border.’
‘Can I go home now?’ I moaned, covering my heated face with my hands.
‘No, I didn’t come all this way for you to go home,’ he replied. ‘Besides, it’s a great ego boost for a guy to know he visually pleases his girl.’
‘I’m your girl?’ I dropped my hands and let my eyes meet his.
‘You said yes and wore the ring last night to prove it. You don’t have senile dementia like Mrs. Vickers, do you?’
‘No,’ I laughed.
‘So, are you getting out?’
I smiled and reached for my bag. As I opened the door, he grabbed it and swung it wide open for me, offering me his hand. I shivered as his fingers wrapped around mine, sparks of physical need radiating through my body as he helped me up, then leaned in to place a soft kiss on my cheek. I breathed him in and shivered again.
‘Are you cold?’ he asked as he let go of my hand and shut the car door.
‘No, I’m great, thanks. How are you?’
‘I’m great too,’ he nodded. I blushed and locked my car, and he placed his hand in the small of my back to guide me across the car park to the side entrance of the pub. I went ahead as he swept the door open for me, and stepped into the long room with a bar running down the right-hand side and a warm, welcome fire crackling away to my left, giving an appealing smoked-wood scent to the room. The noise of chatter and laughter filled the air, and Weston gave me a smile and a nod, which I assumed was his seal of approval. ‘Does the whole no-looking-south-of-the-border thing apply to me too? As your bottom is looking very sexy in those tight jeans.’
‘Sssshhhh,’ I laughed, swatting his bicep.
‘You forget I’ve seen you in a bikini.’
‘Not from behind,’ I reminded him.
‘My loss,’ he grinned.
‘Where’s Bertie?’ I asked.
‘Safe in the car, which is in the shade with the windows cracked open, and he has a bowl of water.’
‘Well, it’s not a hot day, so he should be fine while we eat. I can’t wait to see him again.’
‘And again I ask, is it me you agreed to date or the dog?’ he laughed.
‘You, but he was definitely the swing vote,’ I teased.
‘What would you like to drink?’ he asked as he rubbed his thumb up and down my spine, making me shiver again despite the heat radiating from the fire.
We were shown to our table once our drinks had been served and Weston beat the host to hold my chair out for me, then took his seat opposite. I liked the fact that he had good manners. We studied the menu and placed our orders straightaway, both rejecting a starter and opting for just a main course. After all, we were really here to talk and take Bertie for a walk.
‘So,’ I said, moving my cutlery unnecessarily and then straightening it again to give me something to focus on instead of staring at his gorgeous face. Those blue eyes were hypnotic and made me forget about anything but staring into them. ‘You pretty much got my life story on our first date. Tell me yours.’
‘What do you want to know?’ he replied, picking up his sparkling water.
‘Anything, everything. You didn’t give much away last night, or in Mexico.’
‘I’m a pretty private person, Georgie. You already know what I do for a living.’
‘Telling me you’re a personal trainer doesn’t really tell me much about you.’ I risked a glance at him to see that his happy, lopsided smile from earlier was fading and his relaxed posture had started to stiffen.
‘I left school at eighteen and applied to join the Army. I was accepted to their officer training course at Sandhurst, which took nearly a year and was pretty intense. I spent eleven years with them, rising up to the position of captain. When I left, I became a personal trainer.’
‘Why did you leave?’ I watched as his fingers tightened around his glass, the tips of them turning white.
‘It was time. I’m not sure if you recall, but my time in the forces isn’t really a topic I’m open to discussing.’ He set his drink down and ran a hand through his dark chocolate-coloured hair.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I’m just interested in getting to know you a bit better. I don’t even know why you were in Mexico on your own.’ I sipped my glass of wine and saw a flicker of a grimace cross his face before he rubbed his hand over his mouth, then clasped both on the table in front of him.
‘Who says I was on my own?’
‘Please. You were jogging, sorry running, most of the day alone and took me out on a date.’
‘I could have been with an overweight male friend who didn’t share my love of keeping fit.’
‘I have a feeling you’d coax any overweight friends into fitness,’ I laughed.
‘Touché,’ he nodded. ‘Ok, you want me to be honest? Well, I hope this doesn’t make you reconsider our relationship.’ He took a deep breath, and I raised my eyebrows as I sipped my wine, wondering what on earth he was about to say. ‘I was on my honeymoon.’
My lips pursed as a fine mist of wine sprayed from my mouth all over the table, narrowly missing his face. I started to choke, and he shot up from his chair and came to rub my back as he offered me a sip of his water.
‘Honeymoon?’ I coughed, as he continued to rub and soothe, but no amount of soothing was about to calm me down. He wore no wedding ring, there had been no telltale dent or tan line on his finger, and he’d been less than impressed when the staff had called me Mrs., or Mieces, Carter. What was this, double standards? Had I really read him so wrong?
‘Are you ok?’
‘No, not really,’ I coughed, dabbing my lips with my napkin as he took his seat again. He rested his elbows on the table, his hands clasped as his thumb rubbed over those tempting full lips of his. Cheating lips!
‘I was alone, Georgie. I told you that I have a strong moral compass and I wasn’t lying. I’d never cheat on a woman.’
‘You just told me you were on your honeymoon,’ I reminded him, ignoring my “a lady only sips” upbringing and chugging back the whole glass of wine. I’d nearly drained it when Weston leaned over and gently took it off me, setting it back down on the table.
‘I started dating Bella when I was eighteen, not long before I went to Sandhurst. My career meant th
at we didn’t get to spend much time together at all, despite dating for over twelve years. When I left the Army, I wasn’t in a good place.’ He stopped and knocked back his water, his eyes flitting around the dining room before he gestured for a waiter to come over so he could order a bottle of sparkling water for himself and another glass of wine for me. He let his eyes meet mine for a moment, and I could tell he was struggling to vocalise whatever he was thinking.
‘You weren’t in a good place?’ I gently coaxed. He bit his lower lip and shook his head as his hands moved back up to grip each other tightly in front of his mouth.
‘Post-traumatic stress disorder. The diagnosis no one in the forces ever wants, but too many get,’ he shrugged, making out like it wasn’t a big deal, while his demeanour told me he felt the opposite.
‘Weston, I’m so sorry.’ I reached over and lightly touched his fingers as I held his gaze. He quickly captured my hand before I had a chance to take it away and held on as he dropped his to the table, stroking his thumb over my knuckles.
‘I’m luckier than most. I have no battle scars, no loss of limbs, but emotionally I’m not the same. I made a mistake. Well two, as I proposed to Bella thinking some stability would help heal me. It made things worse. She moved in and refused to accept that I didn’t want to talk to her about the things I’d experienced, the things that kept me up at night. She continued to push me for answers, and the closer it got to our wedding date, the worse it got, to the point where we were arguing all of the time and I was regressing.’ His grip on my hand tightened and he took a deep breath, then swallowed hard.
‘She pushed you away.’
‘I can’t lay all of the blame on her, it was my choice to pull away. I broke off the engagement and wedding, broke her heart in the process, and admitted myself for intensive therapy. Talking to a stranger, someone I didn’t have to face in real life, was … easier.’
‘It doesn’t sound easy to me. I have so much respect for you, Weston. Admitting you need help is one of the strongest things a person can do.’
The Great Escape (Dilbury Village #2) Page 10