Page 33 of The Retreat
Imogen’s hand had ended up against the inside of Talia’s arm, palm splayed over bare skin where her sleeve had ridden up. Talia’s fingers were pressing firmly into her lower back, just above her hip.
It was a lot more than a handhold.
Imogen righted herself quickly, and they both let go at once, stepping back and averting their eyes. Talia’s jaw shifted like she was about to say something, but didn’t.
‘Well,’ Imogen said. Her voice came out lower than she meant it to. She cleared her throat. ‘Graceful as ever.’
Talia smiled politely. But Imogen couldn’t help but notice that her ears had gone a bit pink.
‘I need a drink,’ Talia said and walked briskly over to the water table.
Imogen followed her, thinking,What the hell was that?
Twenty-One
The course was behind them, and everyone was scattered in post-assault course clumps, making their way back to the lodge.
Talia stopped to brush dirt from her knees when she noticed the faint tremble in her hands. Barely there. Nothing anyone else would spot. Certainly not Imogen. Unless she was looking closely. And why would she be?
The important thing was that the course had turned out better than Talia had expected. Better than she probably deserved. She’d been swearing under her breath the whole way back to help Imogen, already annoyed at herself for risking the loss. But she’d gone anyway. Not to prove anything, not to be noble. Just because she’d thought Imogen might be hurt. And she’d felt… what? Concern?
She wouldn’t have credited herself with that, not when it came to Imogen. But maybe it wasn’t for her. Maybe it was for ‘Alex.’ Maybe Talia was just committing harder than she’d realised.
This meant Talia’s instinct to grab Imogen before she could fall was logical and not weird at all. She was just leaning in. And the heat in her ears? That didn’t mean anything.
Still, Celeste’s words stuck. ‘Real couple.’ It was the real win of the day. Celeste’s approval. This was working. They were really doing it. Talia felt something like gratitude to Imogen.
Then she remembered the wine. Flora’s wine. Flora. Flora and Imogen in that bed…
Talia muttered something about going to change and didn’t wait for Imogen’s reply, just turned and walked, trying to remember how her legs were supposed to move naturally.
She got back to the lodge before Imogen and sat on the edge of the bed and bent forward, elbows on knees, forehead in hands.
There was a knock on the cabin door, two quick taps.
‘It’s me,’ came the voice.
Talia considered not answering. Just for a minute. Letting her stew out there. And then she stood and opened the door.
Imogen stepped in, already unzipping her coat. ‘You OK?’
‘You slowed me down on that course,’ she said finally.
Imogen paused. ‘I thought you were happy—’
‘You didn’t know it would work out in my favour.’
‘I didn’t ask you to come back for me like an action hero, did I?’ Imogen snapped.
They were silent for a moment.
Imogen took her coat off, finally. ‘Look, I’m doing my best. I really am.’
Talia looked over. Imogen had a smudge of dirt on her cheekbone and grass in her hair.
‘You should clean up,’ Talia said, turning away. ‘There’s a nature walk before dinner. Try not to fall over again.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ Imogen said, her tone clipped.
