Page 67 of Coming Home to Wishington Bay
‘Yeah. It’s still a bit chilly in there though. Definitely woke up the senses.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘I sort of thought about asking if you wanted to come … but I didn’t know if it was really your sort of thing. I’m guessing it’s not from what Carrie said.’
‘Lounging in bed and eating cake isn’t my normal sort of thing either, I’ll have you know. Jeez, thanks, Carrie. I sound like a right lazy slob now!’
‘I didn’t think that.’
I gave him a look from under my lashes that suggested I disagreed with his statement. Grinning, he reached over and scratched the little dog’s head. Bryan was still nestled in my arms and I suddenly realised how relaxed I was. Even though I probably didn’t look all that hot, had an only mildly receding hangover, and I couldn’t actually remember brushing my hair. Or cleaning my teeth. Oh crap.
‘I just need to do something for a minute.’
‘Oh! Yeah, sure. I’ll get out of your way.’
‘No, you’re not in my way, really. I just, well, Carrie kind of startled me awake this morning and I got dressed in a hurry. I just need to tidy myself up a bit.’
‘You look perfectly tidy to me.’
The words drifted back from last night.Perfect as you are.I gave myself a mental shake. He hadn’t meant it like that. As he’d gone on to explain, Gabe had just been referring to women, especially, having less self-belief in their bodies than they should. That we didn’t all need some form of surgical enhancement to make us thinner, bustier, have a smaller or – increasingly often now, thanks to the Kardashians – bigger bum. That’s what he’d meant. I was perfect in my own way. Not in his own eyes.
‘Back in a sec.’
A few minutes later, I was feeling somewhat refreshed and far less gross. But Gabe and Bryan had both gone. Just how disappointed I was took the last of the wind that had been in my sails. That wasn’t good. I really shouldn’t be that bothered. Even if I was his fake girlfriend – the key word in that sentence being fake. And when they both popped back from around the corner, the smile that bounced onto my face seemed to back it all up.
But I couldn’t help it. And how bad could it be? It wasn’t like I was falling for him or anything. I was just helping out a friend. Yes, said friend was tall, broad and easily the most good-looking man I had ever met in my entire life, but that was neither here nor there. But I was enormously glad he was now here.
‘You look happy.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes. Especially for someone with a hangover.’
‘Actually that’s almost gone now. How’s yours?’
‘Still lingering. Maybe I need to try your cure next time.’
‘Somehow I doubt there are many times you have to cope with one.’
‘Well, that makes me sound either very sensible, or very dull. Possibly both.’
‘No. It makes you sound very responsible. Which is what I think you are. Aside from the mad fact you let my grandmother rope you into using me as a fake girlfriend, but then we all have off days.’
‘I guess responsible is all right. Maybe.’
‘Of course, it is. You’re a doctor. People already put those two hand in hand anyway. Oh, he’s a doctor. Very responsible chap.’ I did the last bit in a posh, Old Etonian type voice – I have no idea why.
‘You’re hilarious.’
I tilted my head at him. ‘The way you say that, I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.’
‘It’s good. Believe me.’
‘OK.’
‘By the way, these are for you.’ Leaning down to the side of his chair, Gabe produced a stunning, hand-tied bouquet of flowers.
‘Me?’ I asked, taking them from him and holding them closer to take in the delicious fragrance. ‘Whatever for?’
