Page 71 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
His eyes widened. ‘I can have one later on tomorrow, after the grouting’s set.’
‘You can have one at mine, if you like. And I’ll take Scooter with me now too, if that would help?’
‘OK. Thank you.’
He stood and held out his hand, and Thea let him pull her to her feet, their eyes locking.
‘I’ll see you in a bit,’ she said, the last word catching in her throat.
She hurried down the stairs, where an expectant Scooter was waiting for her, and, before she had a chance to think too much about Ben being naked in the brightly tiled bathroom at Sunfish Cottage, she called to the dog and stepped outside.
The wind was stronger, and the sky was filled with a giant inkblot of dark cloud, blocking out the sun. It was dramatic enough on its own, but the sea below was a riot of white horses, flecked and frothing, tumultuous and angry. She could hear waves crashing brazenly against the rocks, and though it wasn’t raining yet, she could tell it wasn’t far off. She turned to check Scooter was following, then hurried to her cosy cottage.
Ben knocked on the door almost an hour later. Thea’s gaze went straight to the pile of clothes, fresh towel and wash bag he was holding.
‘Sure this is OK?’ he asked.
She stepped back to let him in, feeling the wind whip around him and reach out to her with its cool fingers. ‘Of course. Upstairs, the door at the end of the corridor. Help yourself to shampoo and whatever else you need.’
‘Thanks.’ His attention went to Scooter, who was lying on the kitchen floor. ‘Making yourself at home, I see.’ The dog raised his head and barked, and Ben laughed. ‘Of course you are.’
‘Red or white wine, or beer?’ Thea asked. This, she realised, felt like a proper date. Hikes, abandoned lighthouses and tiling – even though one of those had included some epic kissing – were not traditional dates. Cooking a home-made meal, producing wine, sharing them in the elegant living room of her holiday home: there was no escaping what this meant.
‘I’m happy with wine, if you’re having it,’ Ben said. ‘Whatever you fancy.’
‘OK. Red will go with the food, so I’ll open that.’
‘Great. Shall I?’ He gestured to the stairs.
‘Go for it.’
Thea prepared a salad to go with the lasagne, opened the wine and poured herself a small glass, leaving the rest to breathe. As she kept herself busy, Scooter followed her every movement with his pale gaze. She tried not to listen to the creak of the floor as Ben moved about above her, the slight squeal of the pipes as he switched the water on, the gush as it came out of the rainfall shower head. She would not think about him standing there naked, all muscles and tanned skin, the water dripping off the planes of his body, his glossy eyelashes. She wouldnot.
‘I’m not thinking about him,’ she told Scooter, and the dog tipped his head on one side, in the ultimateI do not believe yougesture. She slumped onto a stool. ‘I’mnot.’
She took a sip of wine, let out a long, calming breath, and was plunged into darkness.
