Page 27 of Knots About You
Trevor took two deliberate steps towards me. A feather-coated nightmare. I side-eyed Owen, who looked torn between laughing and defending me.
‘You’re popular this morning,’ he said.
‘I’m not sure I’m his focus.’ I pointed my croissant at Trevor. ‘Back off.’
Trevor made his move with a sudden burst of speed. Wings. Beak. Chaos. I yelped and stepped back, losing my croissant to the flying devil. Before I could gather my bearings, my foot slipped behind me into a well of nothingness.
A hole, likely dug and forgotten by a child or dog, sent me arse over tit. I went down in a flurry of limbs and sticks, squealing in surprise. Scruff barked as I lay on the sand, half inside the hole, and wholly burning with embarrassment.
Above, Trevor circled with my food in his beak, mocking me.Little fucker.
For a second, I just lay there. Contemplating how I go from looking like an idiot to getting the hot Scot to ravish me. The more time we spent together, the more I seemed to recede into my past self. Like the sea air was stripping back the version of me I’d so carefully constructed and replacing it with, well, my sand-coated self.
Owen knelt beside me, his face etched with concern. ‘You all right?’
‘Internally or externally?’ I couldn’t exactly pretend I hadn’t just been publicly mugged by a bird. I struggled to sit, my hands sinking into the sand. ‘Externally, yes, I think so. Internally, I might die of shame.’
He offered a hand and I took it, trying to ignore the jolt of electricity that zipped through me at his touch. Sand fell around me as if I were a shaken snow globe.
‘You’re covered.’ All of a sudden, his large hands brushed the sand off my coat sleeve, my jeans,the back of my thighs. The swipes of his hand were all business, no pleasure. Like he was brushing off a dirty horse. Even so, it brought a rush of heat shooting through me.
I remembered his rules.
He stared intently like he remembered them, too.
‘Thank you,’ I said, gathering up Scruff’s sticks. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, that crater attempted to kill me.’
‘I noticed.’ God, he was so serious. What would it take to crack through that hard shell of his?
‘It’ll probably be on the noticeboard by noon.’ I rubbed my cold backside with one hand.’Stupid English woman maims local beach with her clumsy arse. Bet Trevor wouldn’t even be blamed.’
His mouth twitched. The tiniest amount.
‘You might make the paper, if you’re unlucky.’
Scruff nosed my knee and sat by a stick I’d missed. The dog was relentless.
‘Absolutely not,’ I told him. ‘I’m out of stick-carrying capabilities. Maximum load had been reached.’
Scruff tipped his head.
Owen came closer, his hands touching mine where I gripped Scruff’s horde. For a second, I felt a rush of adrenaline and thought he might kiss me. Stupid, really, how just being this close made my chest ache. Leaning forward and capturing his lips would be so easy. Just one little movement.
His rules stilled me. Obeying them frustrated me; as a grown woman, I hated it. But deep down, the anticipation filled me with a sweet ache.
I could suffer for a smidgen longer.
‘The sticks,’ he said at last, taking them from my frozen fingers.Oh. I’d misread his intentions. I dumped them in his arms, feeling like an idiot. ’Let’s go see how you’re getting on with the cottage before you start a war with the wildlife.’
‘They started it,’ I muttered, tucking my sand-dusted hair behind my ear.
We fell into step while Scruff bobbed along at our feet. The path up from the beach stole my breath, but when the cottage roofs peeped over the hedge, my heart did that thing where it warms as you approach home.
I hadn’t felt that in a very long time.
My flat with Maddie was a stopgap. And my sole drawer at Marty’s hardly made it feel like I belonged there.
‘So, ceilings first? Then we can figure out what colour you want the walls to be, let me guess, a variety of beige? Porridge or mushroom?’
