Page 68 of The Secret Christmas Bookshop
Sophie pulled off her boot, hovering on one foot so she didn’t put her sock on the damp sand, then pulled that off too. Even the sand was cold, and she grimaced. ‘We could justsaywe’ve done it.’
‘Nope.’ Harry was adamant. ‘Come here.’ He held out his hands again, and Sophie caught her breath. He was so commanding, standing in the shadows, with the black gulf of the sea behind him. He was Poseidon luring her into the waves, and the problem was, she would go gladly.
She took her other boot off, pushed the sock inside it then tiptoed towards him, her eyes on the lapping water.
‘Here, Soph.’ Harry took her hands. His skin was warm and, a second later, her feet were ice. She sucked in a breath at the contrast. ‘OK?’ he asked.
Sophie met his gaze. ‘It’s not as bad as your stupid lake,’ she said.
Harry laughed, the sound loud on the empty beach, then he pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her, letting her nestle against his chest. She could feel her feet turning blue, perhaps preparing to drop off, but as for the rest of her – well, she didn’t really want to move at all.
‘What’s your score again?’
The paddling hadn’t lasted long, despite Sophie’s reluctance to leave Harry’s arms, and they had soon pulled their socks back onto damp feet, relaced their boots and left the dark beach behind.
Now they were back in Penny For Them, Sophie relishing the warmth even though the doors remained open, andthey were standing next to Whack-A-Crab, Harry hefting the foam hammer like he was about to knock in several hundred fence posts.
‘Thirty-six,’ she said. ‘You think you can beat it, even though all our extremities have been numbed by the North Sea?’
He laughed. ‘It’s my toes that I can’t feel, not my fingers. Ready?’
‘Oh, I amsoready.’ Sophie folded her arms as Harry put a pound coin in the slot and pressed the Start button. A cartoon soundtrack burst into life and, a moment later, one of the beady-eyed crabs popped its plastic head out of its hole, and Harry brought the hammer down with awhack. Sophie grinned and settled in to watch.
He was, upsettingly, really good, and nothing like the furious attack dog she’d expected. He was calm and methodical, wielding the toy hammer with precision rather than force. She was tempted to distract him, considered sliding her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, but she wanted a fair fight. The music soon came to an end, and his score flashed up on the display: 33.
‘You beat your top score,’ Sophie said, as he tipped his head back and groaned.
‘I haven’t beatenyou,though. Three behind, still.’ He held out the hammer. ‘Go on. See if you can do even more damage.’
‘I’m a little rusty,’ she said, wrapping her fingers around the handle.
‘Starting with the excuses already.’ His voice was silky, and when she met his gaze, her stomach flipped.
‘Don’t distract me.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ He made a big show of stepping back.
But it was too late. As he put in another coin and the music started up again, all she could think about was his low voice and how safe she’d felt tucked up against him on the beach; the moment she’d realized, as he had stood in front of her, chest bared in his bedroom, that he was going to kiss her; the taste of his lips against hers, and how she’d felt the liquid heat of it everywhere. The crabs popped up and she went for them, often a fraction too late, sometimes swinging wide so she didn’t get that satisfying squeak as she hit one squarely on the head.
All too soon the music came to an end, and her paltry score flashed up: 18.
‘What happened?’ Harry sounded mystified rather than smug.
Sophie let the hammer drop. ‘You distracted me.’
‘I didn’t.’ He held his hands up.
‘You’re always distracting me,’ she admitted. ‘You’re a very distracting person, Harry Anderly.’
‘Hey.’ He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, so they were only inches apart. ‘You’re not exactly forgettable, yourself.’ Then he was kissing her, his fingers lightly grazing her jawline, setting off a tingle that sparked through her entire body. He tasted of vinegar, his skin smelled like the dark, unknowable sea, and in this garish place with its flashing lights and victory noises, Sophie lost herself in him.
She trailed her fingers through his hair, feeling how soft the strands were. He anchored her to him with a hand against her lower back, and Sophie almost moaned at the feel of their hips pressed together, how he managed to be firm and gentleall at once. A sound penetrated through her fog of desire, the door banging hard against the wall and then flapping closed, and Harry broke away and looked towards it.
‘The wind’s getting up.’
‘Maybe it’s time to call it a night.’
‘I’ll walk you back to yours.’ He took her hand and led her to the exit.
