Page 58 of Just Like That

‘Why would we do that?’ I give him a quizzical look.

He looks at me as if my fall has made me delusional. ‘Because you’re hurt and bleeding. You should probably take it easy. I’m not even sure you should be driving home alone.’

‘Hey, I’m fine. A few scratches and bruises aren’t going to send me home to bed.’

‘Are you sure?’ His expression is a mix of hope and concern.

‘I’m sure. Let’s go back to the park and change so we don’t turn up to the restaurant soaked and manky. I have my work clothes there and you must have a clean set of overalls at least.’

‘I have better than that. I keep a few changes of clothes there for when I’m doing overnighters.’

‘You do overnighters?’ I’m surprised by this piece of information that’s been casually dropped in.

‘Only when we have orphan animals that need regular feeding. If they’re not able to come home with me for one reason or another.’

‘Oh, wow. I had no idea.’

‘Why would you? Anyway, clean clothes aren’t necessarily my only concern…’ He hesitates and looks awkward.

‘You’re worried people will think you did this to me.’ I touch the gashes on my bruised, swollen face and he nods almost imperceptibly. ‘OK, you don’t need to worry about that at all. I’ll be sure to share my war story – and the fact that it’s our first date – very publicly.’

We arrive at the restaurant half an hour late for our booking, with Nick having phoned ahead to apologise and explain about my accident. They’re very understanding and even have a bag of ice wrapped in a towel ready to help with the swelling. I make a point of talking and laughing about our adventure at Yellowcraig beach with the with staff member who takes us to our table, as I promised Nick I would. And it’s just as well I do, because all eyes are on my injured face as we take our seats at our table.

We chat about everything and nothing while we order our food and eat our respective and delicious starters of seared scallops wrapped in pancetta and burrata with sticky roasted tomatoes. I may have a face like Shrek that’s throbbing and burning, but I feel better and more alive than I’ve felt in ages. Nick is interested and attentive and everything I could hope for in a date. And that’s before factoring in the chemistry that’s crackling away between us.

Every time our fingers touch, I feel an insane level of desire coursing through me. Part of me wants to recklessly abandon the meal and tell Nick to take me to his place, but I’ve made a conscious decision not to succumb too quickly. Call it my professional conscience or whatever, but I do feel a moral obligation to resist a bit longer – just so I’m 110 per cent sure this is going somewhere before I sleep with my client’s head keeper. It almost sounds sordid when I put it that way, but I know that if I do things in what I consider to be the right way, I’ll have nothing to be ashamed of. It’ll also make me feel better if I can look Craig in the face when I tell him about us, knowing I haven’t yet done the nasty with Nick.

‘Can I ask you something?’ I sip at my alcohol-free beer while we wait for our mains to be served.

‘You can ask me anything,’ says Nick.

‘It’s kind of personal.’

‘Ah. Well, I have no secrets, so shoot. I think I might know what this is about anyway.’

‘You do?’

He pauses before answering as we’re served two dishes of steaming hot pasta that smell absolutely divine.

‘You want to know what happened with my wife.’

I feel the uninjured side of my face colour. ‘It was that obvious?’

He bobs his head in a non-committal way. ‘Let’s say I know what my workmates are like. There was no way you wouldn’t have heard something through the park jungle drums. And then, of course, Gwen made that comment the other day about me being… what was it she called me?’

‘A miserable bugger.’ I giggle at the put-upon look of resignation on Nick’s face, but beneath it, I can see the same slightly wounded expression he had that day.

‘Aww, don’t take it personally.’ I reach across and take his hand in mine. ‘I don’t think you’re a miserable bugger.’

‘Not anymore. But you did, didn’t you?’

‘Only for a really short period. Maybe a month or so.’

‘So, most of the time you’ve known me. Great.’ He picks up his fork and spears a piece of tortelloni glumly.

‘I think the most important thing to keep in mind is that this has clearly been a temporary state for you. Somewhat elongated, perhaps, but temporary nonetheless. It’s not who you really are.’

‘That is true. Please know that that’s true.’ He puts his fork down suddenly and holds my gaze.

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