Page 27 of Rescuing Rosie
Madison’s face clouded, but Dale sat down and turned to Guy, on his other side. ‘I’m Dale,’ he said. ‘I sorted Madison’s booties today. And Rosie’s,’ he added, and under the table, his hand rested briefly on her thigh. The flesh beneath it melted.
‘And I’m on the shoot tomorrow,’ he continued, ‘mostly to make sure Madison doesn’t fall off a rock.’
Madison’s expression darkened further. Her pout had turned sulky, and her eyes, as they moved from Dale to Rosie, narrowed.
On the next table over, Ashley stood up and tapped a spoon against a wineglass. Jono took up position with his camera. Ashley welcomed the guests then introduced the weekend’s celebrity host, and it was as if someone turned a key in Madison’s back. She rose to her feet, flicked back her ponytail, flashed a megawatt smile at Jono – held it – then at the guests. Her speech was clever and funny, and probably written by Guy or Lucas.
Afterwards there was a rush to the buffet. ‘Trout for the trouts,’ whispered Dale in Rosie’s ear, as they queued up behind Madison and the wellness ladies.
Rose sniggered, then said, ‘Don’t be mean,’ as Madison headed back to their table, throwing an icy glance in Dale and Rosie’s direction.
The chef served Rosie a trout scattered with toasted almonds, and she piled on the vegetables, aware that she needed to eat. But her stomach was tied in knots.
There was an empty chair next to hers – Madison had decamped to Ashley’s table. Veronica shifted so she was next to Rosie, and after pouring them both a glass of wine, began talking through her goals for the weekend.
Rosie tried to concentrate but was distracted by Dale’s warm leg touching hers. Every now and again he pressed it gently, then harder, against her thigh, sending hot pulses of electricity through her body. His hands remained above the table, and that was probably just as well, given Rosie’s hair-trigger state of arousal. The wine wasn’t helping her focus, either. Her mind drifted off as Veronica gave a detailed answer to her questionabout the properties of the puffer, and she wondered for a moment what she was doing. Hurtling towards a one-night stand with the tastiest bloke in Cumbria, it would seem. Was this in fact wise, given she was most certainly on the rebound, and therefore not in the best place mentally when it came to matters of the heart?
Hell yeah!said her frivolous side.Why wouldn’t you? And who said anything about the heart?
Sensible side spoke up:But is this mostly a ‘fuck you’ to Reuben?Will you feel amazing afterwards, or in fact a bit ick?
Her inner battle was interrupted by the ringtone of her phone, tucked into the pocket of the puffer hanging off her chair.
She fished it out.Reuben. It was as if her sensible side had summoned him. She rejected the call and put the phone down on the table, and it beeped to let her know there was a message. Whatever he had to say, she didn’t want to hear it.
Her face wasn’t great at keeping secrets. ‘Boyfriend?’ said Dale.
‘Ex-boyfriend.’
‘Poor bugger,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘He’s so dead to me.’
But then, out of nowhere, she was walloped by a wave of emotion, overwhelmed yet again by her recent heartbreak – Reuben’s abrupt abandonment, her trashed book dreams. Tears threatened, and she scraped back her chair and grabbed the pink puffer, saying, ‘Excuse me, I need some air,’ before making her way, rather unsteadily, across the room, then out through the bar and onto the terrace.
As she shut the door behind her, she was cocooned in silence. The sun had gone down and the sky was a deep, burnt orange, fading quickly, the fells silhouetted against it. In the valley, Grasmere was a pool of reflected gold. The wind had dropped completely; everything was still.
Rosie pulled on the puffer and leaned on the stone balustrade, taking deep breaths of the cool mountain air, gazing out at the view as it blurred in the dusk. She exhaled a deep sigh. The burst of panic began to dissipate, and her breathing slowed.
Focus on the now.
She was here to forget, to do something creative, to be pampered. To climb a mountain!For once I can make things all about me. She resolved not to listen to Reuben’s message tonight. Or even to think about him.
The bar door opened behind her, casting yellow light onto the flagstones, and a low voice called, ‘Rosie?’
Dale joined her, leaning his elbows on the balustrade. He looked across at her, his face shadowy in the twilight. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh, I’m fine. Just … a bit tired and emotional. It’s the cocktails and the wine, I guess.’
‘Not the trout? Veronica, I mean, not the one on your plate. Though both are dead-eyed cold fish.’
Rosie smiled.
‘That one’s got a mouth like a cat’s arse,’ he went on. ‘I haven’t seen her crack a smile all day. What are these women like, Rosie? Veronica can’t smile, Madison can’t move the top ’alf of her face –’
Rosie was now spluttering with laughter.
‘Present company excepted, of course. You’re ridiculously cute.’ He shifted closer and slipped an arm around her waist.
