With a tenderness that touched her deeply, Mr Stone wiped her nose, dabbed at her cheeks with more concern than finesse then tucked the dirty hanky back into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, a shiny round grey pebble tumbled out and fell to the sand.
Bending to pick it up, Beth stared in wonder at the stone. A miniature boat had been painted on one side of it. There was a delicacy to the brush strokes which spoke to the artist’s talent. She couldn’t begin to fathom the patience and concentration it would take to render something so small in such detail. ‘This is great, who gave it to you?’
Libby’s dad shrugged, as though embarrassed. ‘I made it, Beth. It gives me something to do in the evenings.’
Tears forgotten, the beginnings of an idea formed in her mind. Nurturing local talent was one of the things she most wanted to do with the emporium, and who better fit that than the gentle, kind man in front of her? ‘This is brilliant, you’re really talented. You should think about selling them.’
Mr Stone scoffed. ‘It’s a bit of something and nothing. Who’d buy it?’
‘I would. In fact, I’ll sell them via the emporium if you’re interested.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that…’He scrubbed a hand over the short stubble covering his scalp.
Beth smiled. ‘Well, why don’t you think about it?’ She offered him back the pebble, but he shook his head.
‘No. You keep it. It’s made you smile, and that’s enough payment for me.’
Her hand closed over the smooth stone. ‘It certainly has. Thank you, Mr Stone.’
‘You better go back inside before you catch a cold.’ He ambled off with a wave.
As though breaking a spell, his words drew her attention to the thinness of her T-shirt and goose pimples ran up the length of her bare arms. Shivering, toes full of gritty sand, she began to slop her way back up the beach.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw her friends were waiting for her at the top. They’d at least had the sense to put on proper outerwear. Eliza’s expression was one of pure concern as she held out her hand. ‘Come back inside and we’ll make you a cup of tea.’
Gripping the pebble like a talisman, Beth hurried up the steps. Running away didn’t solve anything, and she needed these two more than ever. ‘I’m sorry. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.’
Libby hooked an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. ‘Come on. Gosh, B, you’re freezing! That git isn’t worth catching pneumonia over, you’re well shot of Charlie. I almost feel sorry for the poor cow who’s getting lumbered with him.’
They were halfway up the stairs when it hit her like a freight train. Charlie was getting married. Beth collapsed to her knees, sobs wrenching from her chest so hard the pain burned like a brand. ‘He…oh, God…he…married.’ She choked on the words.
Eliza sank down beside her, enveloping her in a familiar sweet-smelling hug. ‘It’s all right. Shh, it’s all right.’ Beth turned her head into the thick curls of Eliza’s hair and cried like the world was ending.
A hand settled on her back, rubbing in circles just the way her mum had done when she’d been sad or unwell as a child. ‘Oh, B, I’m so sorry for upsetting you. It’s just me and my big mouth, ignore me.’
The edge of one of the treads dug uncomfortably under her ribcage, and her eyes were starting to sting from the salty tears, but it didn’t matter because her friends were there, as always. She cried herself numb, until there was nothing left inside but a dull ache, and they let her. Legs shaking like a newborn colt, she allowed the other two to help her up the stairs and onto the sofa. Libby disappeared for a few moments, returning with a soft blanket which she settled over Beth.
Eliza slipped out to make a cup of tea for them all and Libby assumed her perch on the arm of a nearby chair. ‘How are you feeling?’
Beth stared down at where her hands were knotted together in her lap. ‘I don’t know. I thought I was over him, but I can’t be, can I, if I’m this upset?’
Libby shrugged. ‘It’s bound to be a shock. You guys only broke up a few months ago and now he’s getting hitched? Something seems a bit off about the whole thing.’
She knew Libby was trying to be supportive, but there was no getting around it—she must still be in love with Charlie, and that meant only one thing. She had no place thinking about Sam as anything other than a friend.
Chapter Fourteen
She was avoiding him. He tried to tell himself otherwise when he was summoned by Eliza to help shift the furniture back into Beth’s bedroom and she was nowhere to be found. The changes they’d wrought in less than forty-eight hours blew him away, and there was no mistaking the space for anything other than Beth’s room now. The muted lilac and mauve walls were complimented by new curtains and a large rug in silvery-grey tones. He hung around for a few moments, watching his sister place a couple of pewter vases on the previously cluttered dressing table and a group of pillar candles on one of the bedside cabinets.
While his sister hung a new shade to replace the old-fashioned glass fixture, he crossed the room to where Libby was smoothing a dark grey fitted sheet over the mattress. ‘Where’s Beth?’
Libby handed him two corners of a pale silver duvet cover with a thick band of pewter scroll work decorating the top and muttered something about them running out of milk and an emergency trip to the corner shop for a pint.
Holding still while she fed the duvet inside the cover, Sam did his best to keep his tone nonchalant as he said, ‘We’ve got tons of milk next door, you should have asked me to fetch some.’
Libby plumped the pillows before placing them at the head of the bed. ‘Look, she got a bit of bad news yesterday. Her ex is getting married, and she took it hard, so we’re giving her a bit of space whilst she sorts things out in her head.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see.’ Well that put a kibosh on things. He’d been hoping to catch Beth alone for a few minutes, see if she fancied joining him for a run in the morning. Nice and casual, just two friends hanging out. If he played his cards right, he might have been able to coax her into a kiss or two along the way. So much for best laid plans.
His disappointment must have showed, because Eliza crossed the room to slip an arm around his waist. ‘Hey, what’s with the face?’
Giving himself a mental shake, Sam gave his sister a quick squeeze before letting her go. ‘It’s just my face, Eliza, nothing much I can do about it.’ He crossed his eyes, and pulled his jaw off to one side, knowing it would make her giggle.
‘Silly sod.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘That’s me. Are you planning to see Mum and Dad before you go in the morning?’
‘My train’s not until ten, so I’ll come over first thing. Will you be around?’
‘I’ll make sure I am. See you later.’ He ruffled her hair, then jumped out the way of the elbow she aimed at his ribs. ‘Vicious! I’ll see you later, Libs. Tell Beth I hope she feels better soon.’
Instead of going home, Sam wandered down the steps at the edge of the promenade and out onto the pale sand. Not thinking about where he was going, his feet took him towards the far end of the beach where the rocks spilled out into the water in a haphazard jumble. Climbing up to his favourite spot, he stripped off his jacket and folded it into a makeshift cushion. How many hours had he spent exploring the pools lurking in and around these rocks? His bedroom window sill held a collection of pebbles, shells, odds and ends of driftwood, orange string and other detritus which had been fascinating to his eight-year-old self.
The sand beside the rocks had been the best for building. Some kids waited for the tide to go out, so they could draw pictures in the wet sand with sticks, others turned cartwheels and practised elaborate tumbles, heads filled with dreams of joining the circus that passed through the bay every year. He’d always been a builder, though.
He’d tried every location up and down the front, but had always gravitated back to this exact spot with his trusty bucket and spade to sculpt myr
iad castles, forts and fancy palaces. They’d stood proud and strong all day until the evening tide swept in and wiped them away. It had never stopped him though. When he’d woken up the next morning, he’d been excited to get back down to the beach to build something bigger, something better and even more beautiful than the day before.
His initial disappointment over Beth was wearing off. She’d been with Charlie for a couple of years, so it was bound to come as a shock to her if he was getting hitched so soon after they’d spilt up. Thinking back over the past few weeks, she’d never struck him as someone pining for a lost love. Her grief had all been for Eleanor, and though she’d still not decided for certain whether she’d keep the emporium in the long term, there had been no indication her plans hinged on the possibility of getting back together with Charlie. When they’d been looking for excuses as to why the two of them should remain just friends, he’d never come up.
As far as Sam could see it, he had two choices. Either forget about the burgeoning feelings he had for her, or try to persuade her to give them a chance. It didn’t need to be anything serious, a spring fling, maybe leading to a summer romance if they were both so inclined. They could focus on their separate businesses without guilt or expectation, and what free time they managed to eke out could be spent getting to know each other better. If it didn’t work out, they’d part as friends, and if it did…well, there was plenty of time to think about that later.
He was a builder. Time to lay the foundations of what might be a promising future.
‘All right, all right, I’m coming.’ The bell above the door jangled as Beth yanked it open.
Her face was pale, her eyes bruised and puffy. She looked like hell and for a moment the idea he’d come up with whilst staring at the sea seemed at best foolish, at worst like he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state. Or maybe he was just scared of finding out her heart was still taken. He needed to act before he chickened out. ‘Here. These are for you.’ He thrust the huge bouquet of roses in shades of cream, lilac and pink at her.
She stared at the flowers. ‘What are these for?’
‘Read the card.’ He pressed the stems against her fingers until she took them.
Balancing them in the crook of her arm, she tugged the little card from the envelope. Her eyebrows rose, and she stared up at him. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’
Sam leaned one shoulder against the doorway. ‘Nope. I mean every single word.’
Colour spotted her cheeks. ‘Let’s have a spring fling?’
A strand of hair had escaped her ponytail and he reached out to tuck it behind her ear. Unable to resist the softness of her skin, he traced the delicate shell of her ear with the tip of his finger. ‘We don’t have to call it that. How do you feel about a little March hare-madness, followed by some April fool-about? I know we said we should stick to just being friends, but I can’t stop thinking about you, Beth. We could have a great time together.’
Her arms tightened around the bouquet and her eyes narrowed. ‘Your timing’s lousy.’
She opened a metaphorical door with that comment, and Sam decided to shoulder his way through. ‘Eliza told me about Charlie. Don’t sulk, it’s unbecoming.’
‘Don’t sulk? Who the hell do you think you are? The man I loved, the man I planned on spending the rest of my life with is getting married, and you have the nerve to tell me not to sulk about it?’ She slammed the flowers against his chest. ‘Get lost, I never want to see you again.’
He straightened the crumpled cellophane around the flowers before handing them back to her. ‘You don’t mean that, you’re just pissed off because you failed.’
Her jaw dropped, and he decided to take the roses back before she beat him around the head with them. They’d cost a bomb, even with Emma, the florist, giving him mate’s rates.
A sharp scowl distorted Beth’s features. ‘I hate you.’
‘Nah, you don’t, not really.’ He set the flowers down on the wide window sill of the emporium then cupped her shoulders. ‘To be clear, I don’t think you’ve failed, but I’m betting that’s what you’re thinking. I bet you lay in your bed all night soaking tissue after tissue in bitter tears, telling yourself your heart’s broken and wracking your brains trying to figure out what you did wrong, why he wants to marry someone else and not you.’
She would’ve twisted away had he let her, but he tightened his grip on her arms, so she resorted to turning her face to the side to hide her tears. ‘Stop it, stop it.’
Doubts wracked him and he questioned the wisdom of playing bad cop, but he’d come too far to stop now. Every tear that trickled down her cheek stabbed him in the gut, and it would be so easy to gather her close and let her cry on his shoulder.
No. No way. If he did that, she’d park him so far in the friend zone, he’d never get back out again. Beth needed someone who would stand up to her, as well as stand up for her. He gave her a gentle shake. ‘Your pride is hurting, and that’s understandable, but you haven’t been acting like a woman with a broken heart for the past few weeks. You’ve been acting like a woman who’s excited about making a fresh start. A woman who’s open to new opportunities in both her professional and her private life. When we kiss, it doesn’t feel like you’re thinking about someone else.’
Releasing one shoulder to cup her cheek, he urged her to turn back and face him. ‘When we kiss, it feels like you are one hundred per cent in the moment. That the butterflies dancing in my belly are fluttering around in yours too.’
Her lashes shuttered down, and he knew she wasn’t thinking about Charlie any more. ‘And it would be just a fling? Nothing serious.’
He ducked low to whisper against her lips. ‘Nothing serious, just two friends exploring an attraction. Nobody’s business but ours. If you need someone to rebound into, why not me?’ Turning his face to the left, he kissed his way across her cheek, seeking the tender skin beneath her ear.
‘Oh, Sam.’ She melted against him, the tension in her body easing until she fit perfectly against him. Her hands stole around his waist to grip his back. ‘What if we’re making a big mistake?’ She didn’t let him go though.
Sliding a hand up to stroke her nape beneath the length of her ponytail, he cuddled closer. ‘We’re going into this with our eyes wide open. We can lay down some ground rules if you like.’
Her shoulders hitched with a little laugh. ‘You’ve been thinking about this a lot, haven’t you?’
‘Every day since we were in your stock room.’ He kissed her temple. ‘Speaking of which, I’d be quite amenable if you wanted to lure me back there.’
Her lips brushed the underside of his jaw. ‘Can I have my flowers back?’
Releasing his hold, he gathered the slightly sorry-looking roses from the window sill and held them out. Beth took them in her arms and lowered her head to breathe in the scent. ‘They’re really beautiful.’
Feeling like he could take a decent breath for the first time since she’d opened the door, he relaxed his shoulders. ‘I thought they’d look good in one of those pewter vases in your bedroom.’
She shot him a glance through her lashes that set his heart racing faster. ‘I know what else would look good in my bedroom.’
‘Oh, really?’
Beth gave one of those one shoulder shrugs that every man knew spelled trouble. ‘I saw this gorgeous antique mirror in one of the shops in the arcade yesterday. I could do with a hand to carry it.’ She buried her nose back in the flowers, but couldn’t disguise the amusement shaking in her shoulders.
He supposed he deserved it after accusing her of sulking, but raising a man’s hopes—and other things—was just plain mean. ‘Low blow, sweetheart.’
She flashed him a smile that showed not one ounce of repentance. ‘Well, I’ve got a busy day ahead. Thanks for the flowers, and your very kind offer. I’ll take it under consideration.’ Stepping back inside, she closed the door in his face, the happy jangle of the bell adding insult to injury.
He knocked on the glass to catch her attention before she walked away. ‘I’ll meet you by your back gate at eight tomorrow morning. We can go for a run and work out some of those ground rules.’
She shook her head, but her eyes were bright with amusement. Taking that as acceptance, he tucked his hands in his pockets and sauntered off. Sam couldn’t fight the grin spreading over his face. He was a builder and the foundations had been laid.
‘I haven’t been up here for ages,’ Beth said when they paused at the top of the hill to catch their breath.
He shaded his eyes and followed her gaze out across the higgledy-piggledy warren of streets laid out below them. Like a lot of places which had started from a reliance on the sea, the town had grown outwards from the main beach area with no plan. Houses had been added as required, their mismatched styles reflecting whatever the trend had been at the time, or more often, whatever the budget of the new owner could afford.
Unhooking the small backpack he carried, he fished out his water bottle and went to take a drink then offered it to Beth first. Her cheeks were rosy, from a combination of exertion and the chilly breeze. Sweat-dampened tendrils of hair clung to her forehead and curled around her neck where they’d escaped from the high ponytail. Having taken a good drink, she offered the bottle back to him and he took a swig before stowing it away once more.
‘Have you had enough, or do you want to carry on?’ He could manage another couple of miles easily, but he was conscious she might not be used to the same pace.
‘I’m not in a hurry to get back, but maybe we could walk for a bit?’
That was more than fine with him. ‘We could carry on over the rise and make our way towards the lavender farm.’ There wouldn’t be much to see this time of year, but the bridle path would be quiet, and they’d be protected from the worst of the wind once they got down the hill a bit. He held out his hand, and she stared at it for a few moments before slipping her fingers in between his.
Spring at Lavender Bay Page 15