by Sofia Grey
Her thick, blonde hair was pulled back into a braid, and she wore a plain black sweater and skirt. On someone older, it would have looked severe, but her honey-colored skin glowed in contrast. Her brown eyes danced with amusement as I gaped. I spoke quickly to cover my surprise.
“You look different every time I see you.”
“I can’t really turn up for my day job in jodhpurs.”
Was she teasing me? Or flirting? I was used to that. I cast my mind back to our brief conversation at the stables.
“How did you get on at the show?”
She pulled a face. “Not brilliantly this time. Sam was full of beans and not paying attention. He’s still young though, and not very experienced.”
Like his owner.
Anita had an innocence, an inexperienced freshness that felt like a balm to my jaded soul.
She smiled, and I remembered how she’d reacted when I shook her hand “So”—she gave me a friendly look—”can I help you find anything?”
A sense of being young and carefree again?
“It’s my mum’s birthday. She’s into gardening, and I wondered if there were any books you could recommend?”
“That’s easy.” She led me to a display of stacked books, selected one, and passed it across to me. Our fingers brushed together for a brief moment, and a surge of excitement rippled through me. Her eyebrows flickered in surprise, but she recovered quickly.
“This is new, so I doubt she’ll already have it. It’s all about famous gardens open to the public, so it might give her ideas about places to visit. It’s a popular choice.”
I flicked through it, barely aware of the content. I wasn’t even sure if I held it the right way up. “It’s fine, I’ll take it.”
She beamed. “Would you like it gift-wrapped?”
I’d like you gift-wrapped.
My mind shot off on a tangent, while my voice struggled to stay under control. What on earth was the matter with me? I’d sworn off women for the moment. Even delicious young women.
It wouldn’t hurt to chat for a few minutes, and it wasn’t as though I had anything else to do.
I said yes to gift-wrapping, and then tried to keep her attention by asking about local history books, something I’d been meaning to look at for a while.
“We normally have more, but we’re making space for our Back to School display. If there’s anything in particular you’re looking for, I could look in the stockroom for you.”
She gazed up at me, and I felt an overwhelming desire to run my fingers through her hair. Taking a quick breath, I tried to speak casually. “I’m not really sure what I want. I’m doing some research on a racetrack that used to be round here somewhere, and it’s proving elusive to find any references to it.”
“Oh, I know the one.” Her face lit up. “It was on the road to Manchester, but I think there’s a housing estate there now. I remember my dad talking about it. He’s really interested in local history.”
I chatted with her about Cumberley for a couple of minutes, an excellent distraction to an otherwise dull day. I really didn’t feel like going home yet. “I wouldn’t mind picking your brains a bit more. I don’t suppose you’d have lunch with me? Go to a pub or something?”
If I thought her face had been alight earlier, she now positively glowed. Then, a wariness flashed across her features, and she stepped back a fraction. Damn, she was almost certainly going to say no. Pride nudged me to turn on the charm. “Hey, it’s no biggie. We could just have a coffee if that would be easier, I’d really like to hear what you know about the old town.”
She smiled shyly at me. “I can do lunch, as long as it’s quick.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I get a break in thirty minutes, should I meet you somewhere?”
We agreed on the pub down the street, and I walked away. I wondered what the hell I was doing. If I just wanted to get laid, she was the complete opposite of what I’d go for. I’d been with enough women to recognize when they wanted a quick fuck as opposed to something more, and Anita screamed relationship material.
After the way Susie had fucked me over, I needed my head examined if I even thought about getting involved again.
2.2 Anita
Having plucked up the courage to say yes, I wanted to hug myself. After Rob, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to trust a guy again, but I couldn’t be afraid forever. Colette thought I was just shy, and kept mentioning boys I might like. I envied her confidence. I should think of lunch with Jon as baby steps. It wouldn’t go any further, I mean, how could it?
For the next half hour, I argued with myself about whether or not I should go. It wasn’t fair to stand him up, and it wasn’t a date. He wanted to know the local history. I’d tell him all I knew, where to go for more, and that would be the end of it. A wistful part of me longed for something else, but I squashed those thoughts right down. I’d tried that with Rob. Never again.
Colette came back from lunch and caught me applying a fresh coat of lip-gloss. “It’s pouring down outside,” she said. “Are you going far?”
I debated whether to tell her or not. Decided not to. After all, Jon might get bored after five minutes, so I didn’t want to make a big thing about it. “Just a few errands to run.”
I glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Colette was one of life’s beauties. She was tiny, yet perfectly formed, and as Irish as they came, with a dark—almost black—urchin haircut, green eyes, and a pale, unblemished complexion. Even though she had men falling over themselves to be with her, she stayed ruthless about not getting involved. To her, life was one long party, and I loved her enthusiasm.
The Fox & Grapes pub was not far up the street, and I had my hooded raincoat to keep me dry. I’d underestimated the weather, though. The rain hammered down and even with the hood up, my face got wet. I hurtled into the busy pub feeling like a drowned rat.
Jon stood by the window, probably watching my progress down the street. At least he was here. Part of me wondered if he’d suddenly find something better to do than meet me. I gave him a beaming smile as I slipped out of my coat, and wondered what to do with it, as it dripped steadily onto the floor.
He grinned back at me, took the wet garment, and carefully draped it over a stool in front of the blazing fire.
“It’s August, and they’ve lit the fire already.” I was surprised, but then again, it had been a wet and miserable summer so far.
I noticed him gazing at me intently, and I put a hand to my face. “What’s wrong? Do I have a smudge on my nose or something?”
“No.” His lips tugged upward, and then evened out as though he was repressing a smile. “It’s a little rude to ask, but I just wondered how old you are? I mean, are you old enough to have a drink in the pub?”
I laughed, completely disarmed. “I’m actually twenty-two, so yes. I’m well old enough to have a drink if I feel inclined.”
“That’s a relief; I don’t want to get into trouble.” He nodded toward my coat, gently steaming in the heat. “You look like a teenager in that thing.” He hitched his stool closer to mine as someone tried to squeeze past us. “What do you fancy for lunch? The toasted sandwiches look good.”
They were the pub specialty, and my usual choice. “They are. I’ll have a cheese and ham, please, with a fresh orange juice.” I dug into my pocket for some money, but he waved it away.
“It’s okay, I’ll get them.” He disappeared to the bar, while I tried to tidy my hair in the window reflection. Even with my braid, I still looked disheveled. Oh lord, he’d thought I was still a child. If I’d wanted confirmation he didn’t see me as a date, that would have been it. I should have been relieved, but part of me was disappointed.
He soon returned with our drinks and I thanked him. “That was quick. Normally it takes ages to get served in here.”
“Do you come here often?”
I giggled over my juice. “If you don’t mind my saying, that’s a bit of a corny line.”
He smiled back
. God, if I’d thought him to be good looking before, he was devastating now.
“I’ve been working abroad for the past few years. I’m out of practice.”
“The girls on the yard were wildly envious of me. They tell me you’re a race car driver.”
He quirked his eyebrows at me. “What else did they say?”
“Not much. They were staggered I didn’t recognize you. I don’t know anything about motor racing I’m afraid. Apparently, you’re famous?”
Was it my imagination, or did he look relieved? He shrugged. “Fame can be overrated. I’ve been in the States for the last five years, but I’ve come back to Britain for this season. I’ve been lucky, that’s all. I’m doing an exciting job and one I always dreamed of.”
We swapped stories. I told him about my parents, now happily running a Bed & Breakfast in Anglesey following Dad’s early retirement. Jon told me about his father, how he’d set up a chain of garages importing American cars, and now owned a company that developed race engines. They were the main sponsors of Jon’s racing career, and when he wasn’t on the track, he worked for his dad as an engineer. He talked about the travel back and forth to the Houston plant, which was building their newest engine, and how transatlantic travel lost its appeal after the first few trips.
Jon told me how he aimed for the Formula 1 Grand Prix before he got too old. His age, twenty-nine, qualified for middle-aged in car racing terms. He was so easy to talk to, with a quick sense of humor, and didn’t take himself seriously.
We clicked with the ease of people who’d known each other much longer, but all too soon, my lunch break was over. I realized the rain had cleared and the sun now crept back out. I’d been so absorbed with Jon I hadn’t paid any attention to the world around us. A bomb could have exploded outside and I wouldn’t have heard it.
I tried to memorize every detail about him, storing it up to recount to Colette later. His dark hair, with glints of gold as though he’d been out in the sun. The long, dark eyelashes and thick eyebrows. His teeth were white and even, and he had a tiny nick on his chin where he must have cut himself shaving. As before, he wore skin-hugging faded denims and a cotton shirt. Our seats were so close together I could smell his aftershave, a woody, musky fragrance. A smile constantly hovered over his face. Maybe it was the novelty of meeting someone who’d never heard of him before.
As I picked up my almost-dry coat and thanked him for lunch, he stood up beside me. “It was nice talking to you,” he said. “Would you like to have dinner one night? If you’re free?”
Oh. Dinner? Half of me wanted to say yes please before Jon changed his mind, but the other half immediately took fright. Lunch was one thing, but dinner implied something else completely. Baby steps, I reminded myself.
I stared at him, helpless and torn by indecision.
As I hesitated, he shrugged and gave a rueful grin. “Boyfriend, huh? Never mind.”
Jon waited again for me to reply. I felt like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. I looked into his eyes and let my emotions tumble around some more.
“No boyfriend,” I said. Rob had been a long time ago.
Jon raised his eyebrows a fraction, a hopeful expression on his face.
“I’m not looking to get involved with anyone.” I decided to be honest.
“I only asked about dinner. No strings.” There was that devastating smile again.
God, I was sorely tempted. Anyone else would have jumped at the chance, so why couldn’t I? I was scared to dip my toes into the dating pool, but maybe it was time to get my feet wet. Lunch had been wonderful.
“Okay,” I said, before I could change my mind. “When were you thinking of?”
Relief twinkled in his eyes. “I’m free on Friday. How would that be for you?”
Friday? Two days away? My head whirled. What would I wear? I didn’t have anything remotely fancy in my wardrobe, and Colette was a midget in comparison, so I couldn’t borrow from her.
I tried to be cool, as though handsome racing stars asked me out every day. “Friday’s good, thanks.”
My mobile phone was unreliable, so I gave him my home number and my address. It was hard to tear myself away. “I really need to get back to work. Thanks again for lunch.” I realized with some amusement, he hadn’t asked me once about local history.
“My pleasure.” Jon helped me into my coat, before stepping to the side, to allow me to pass.
My heart fluttered at his good manners and I hurried back to work, feeling as though I walked on air.
2.3 Anita
It wasn’t until breakfast the next day that I saw Colette and finally shared my news with her. She’d been excited enough I had a dinner date, but to find out it was with sporting celebrity Jon Craigowan… Her toast halted on its way to her mouth.
“You’re winding me up. How on earth did you meet him? He’s gorgeous! Can I come too?”
“No.” I laughed, delighted she was envious of me, for once. “I met him out riding, and he came into the shop yesterday. I’m surprised you never spotted him.”
“Hey, Danny,” Colette called out as he walked past the kitchen on his way to the front door. “You’ll never guess who Anita is having dinner with on Friday.”
Danny popped his head into the kitchen doorway. “Good morning to you, too, Colette.” He gazed thoughtfully at me. “Would it be Graham? The doctor who booked a second lesson with you?”
“You always only think of your bloody horses,” said Colette, her exasperation clear. “Have you heard of Jon Craigowan? He drives cars rather than horses, so maybe not.”
Danny frowned. “He was talking to you on Sunday.”
I nodded, and crunched my toast.
“And you’re having dinner with him?”
I nodded again, fighting to hold back my grin. Would Danny be excited too?
“You’ve got to be kidding. Tell me you’re just messing around.” His voice was sharp.
“I’m having dinner with him on Friday. He came into the shop yesterday, we had lunch, and he invited me—”
“Jesus, Anita.” He interrupted, his face darkening. “He’s a fucking playboy. You can’t seriously be thinking of going out with him.”
Colette and I both stopped chewing and stared at him.
“You’re an innocent. He’ll eat you up and spit out the remains, then move on to the next willing body. Is that what you want? To be just another notch on his already well-scarred headboard? I didn’t think you were like that.”
I’m not.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and the toast crumbs threatened to lodge in my throat. I swallowed them down, and sought my composure. “It’s only dinner.”
“Yeah, only dinner. Then he pounces. What if you’re so flattered you can’t refuse? He’s a complete fuckwit, mark my words.”
“But Danny, you said—only the other day—you wanted to meet him. What’s changed?”
He rolled his eyes and stomped into the kitchen, arms crossed. “I’d like to meet him, as one bloke to another. I don’t want you to get involved with him. He’ll fucking destroy you.”
I sat there, unable to say anything. I’d known Danny all my life, and he’d never behaved like this before.
He tugged angrily at his tufty, ginger hair, and sat down next to me at the table. “Anita.” His voice was gentle. “He shags women and moves on. His wife divorced him because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. He dates models and actresses, not nice young girls who work in bookshops. He’s bad news. Please don’t go out with him. You’re not that type of girl.”
It felt as though Danny had smacked me in the face. His words rang through my head. Could he be right? After getting tangled with Rob, I stayed well clear of anyone that could be labeled bad news. But the Jon I’d had lunch with was nothing like the monster Danny was talking about.
Was this going to be another huge mistake? The only way to find out would be to have dinner with him, and pray my instincts served me better now.
****
Colette dragged me to the shop computer, where she’d Googled Jon’s name.
I stared at the pictures of him with an endless stream of women on his arm. Thousands of hits.
She sighed. “He’s not so bad, Anita. He’s just had a lot of publicity over the past year.”
I eventually found my voice. “What was all that about his wife?”
“According to the papers he’s getting divorced from Susie Brooks.”
I’d no idea he was even married.
Colette pulled up a picture taken at some event or another. Jon looked gorgeous, dressed in black tie, with an undeniably glamorous woman hanging on his arm. Her ash blonde hair swished around a heart-shaped face as she gazed into his eyes, a small smile playing on the edges of her lips. It felt ridiculous to suggest they could be anything other than madly in love.
“Susie Brooks? And she is?”
“Actress. This was taken at one of her premieres. She starred opposite Will Ralph, in that sci-fi thriller last year.”
How could I be thinking about going to dinner with someone who went to Hollywood premieres? I wanted to laugh at the idea.
“Look, Anita, he’s asked you to dinner. That’s all. He’s not dragging you off to some Hollywood cave somewhere, or asking you back to his playboy penthouse. According to the papers, he lives with his parents at the moment. Not very shag-fest is it? And so he’s had a few girlfriends. Well, what of it?”
“But Danny was so fierce.” I still felt shaken by his violent reaction, completely at odds with his normal behavior toward me. I trusted Danny. He’d always been in my corner, and without him, I’d be a mess. His support and affection had nursed me through the dark days after Rob, and I’d no reason to doubt him.
All the same. I was drawn to Jon in a way I couldn’t explain.
Colette looked at me as though considering her words carefully. “I think he’s a touch put out. Jealous if you like.”